This was a very fuunnn story!

How perfectly clever of you. Crystal clear, yet subtle. Nicely done!

Paint is an endearing character and I enjoy getting his perspective on things. Thank you for adding so much of him to this.

This is a very fun little quest and I'm so glad you paused the journey of Julian and Paint to grace us with it. I very much look forward to any interaction between Julian and Ancotar.

The fun of invisible monsters... and without detect life. I like the realism with which you introduced Aleswell, it's a good bit of fun but I'd never thought of what effect invisible people (and sheep) might have on a horse.


I love that line.

What a great (lack of a) visual! If I were Ancotar I would be hiding too!


And this made me laugh out loud!

This was a great way to introduce Zero Visibility. Once again, I like the way that you seamlessly incorporated the in-game dialogue. Paint's reactions are vivid and perfectly rendered. After playing at the spy-game in Bruma and the time spent with the Blades at Cloud Ruler it is nice to see Julian back in the role for which she is best suited. Hero.

Melbourne is heaps colder than Bruma. If I was living there I wouldn't feel the cold. What with the Skyrim ale and two Nord women reclining to each side that is.


My mum joined the Australian Air Force after leaving school and learnt a lot about rules and regulations. Trust me when I say that you did not answer back to her. Julian has many of her characteristics.

A delightful chapter. Paint certainly has a habit of stealing the show. That horse leaves us for dead when it comes to common sense. And style, and class! More!!

QFT


I also thought for a second it said "Sarethi" but then read it properly hehe. Damn Dunmer names.... all look the same *grumbles*

Got to agree with Remko there. Y'see, my cousin brought MW and played the House Redoran quests, while at the same time I was talking to our dear friend Ancotar.

Said cousin suddenly yelled 'God! Athyn Sarethi, honorable Councilor of the honorable House Redoran, just got mutilated by drunk Assassins! I (censored) you not, cousin!'

Of course, I didn't knew who Athyn was at that time, so I just shrugged it off and talked to Diram.

"Hey, Roman. I think this guy's his descendant. Look at the name; Diram Sarethi!"

"Really, Niko? Lemme see.." needless to say, he gloated, laughed teased me relentlessly until he found 'the novelty worn off'.

Such cruel irony placed upon my shoulder by fate! And to think that the word he said to me, was similar to that of Dr. Serethi!!

BUT> I didn't came here to tell a backstory (of sorts) on this quest. This chapter made me laugh several times! Good work, Hauty!!

I eagerly await the next update!

@SubRosa: Aye, ales well that ends well, and it will - eventually! I have to admit, I had the same problem with the Sarethi/Serethi name, when I replayed the quest after having been reading a certain Morrowind memoir! As for quieten, I meant it as a verb, i.e. to quieten a nervous horse.

@Acadian: Thanks, I had a lot of fun writing the conversation. I kept whispering to myself: I see invisible people. I hope you are not disappointed by Ancotar.

@Olen: I hated playing this quest without detect life! But when I played it with Julian, I was even more a newbie about it than she was, and didn’t even know about such a thing! I’m glad you've enjoyed it so far.

@Destri: I think Julian was the only one not laughing during that entire conversation with Diram Serethi. Though he may be invisible (and perhaps better looking that way), he was a fun and enjoyable character in the game, and I wanted to keep that aspect of his personality.

@Wolf: I’m honored that my white-haired Redguard pilus is being compared to your mother. I hope Julian measures up to her!

@Remko: Ain’t it the truth about Dunmer names?

@All Paint’s fans: I’m glad you enjoyed his attitude and perspective on all things invisible. He had a lot of fun in this chapter segment, and appreciates all your apples and carrots!

Now Julian meets the source of Aleswell’s troubles. As a science major myself, I actually enjoyed the in-game conversation, but I’m afraid Julian didn’t understand as much of it as I did!

******************
Chapter 11.4 Ancotar

The path Serethi pointed out to me dived down the cliff face and switchbacked toward Lake Rumare. Halfway down the steep slope, it led me to a ruined fort perched on a narrow shoulder of the bluff. A light breeze cooled the last rays of the westering sun as I limped east, my katana snugged into my palm. Though I saw nothing, I could feel eyes on me, not all of them friendly.

A few paces away from the fort entrance, I heard a snuffling sound coming from the tall grass just below the path. Something struck the metal disc as I spun to present my shield toward the sound. Shoving back against it came automatically, as did the swing of the katana into the space before me. The blade swished through air, not connecting with anything more solid than sunlight.

A rat-shaped shadow moved on the ground to my left, shaking its head and crouching to leap again. I took a step right to place that telltale more to my front. This time I was braced for its leap, and quicker with my blade. The brown form shimmered into visibility as the keen katana sliced through its soft underbelly, trailing blood after it. The force of my strike flipped the body away, over the edge of the path and down the steep slope.

I searched the ground for more shadows, seeing only those cast by trees and the heights to my right, where the village sat. The fort entrance sat near that immense darkness, hiding those cast by possible enemies.

A low growl gave away the presence of another creature, this time emanating from my left when I reached the keep entrance. Moving backwards drew him into the light after me, and I recognized the shadow of a wolf stalking me. Invisible monsters, huh? Just woodland creatures. Maybe worse inside the ruins. Bringing my own Kvatch Wolf in front of me, I crouched down, balancing on the balls of my feet. So you think I can’t see you, wolf? Attack me, and I will kill you. Walk away, and you live.

After a moment, the shadow turned and floated away, back into the shade of the bluffs above. I rose slowly to my full height, considering what had just happened. Did he hear me? I hated killing animals, unless they threatened me or mine. Must not have been hungry enough to go against my katana.

At the fort, I paused within its shadows to study the ruin. Most of the walkways around the walls of the keep were intact. Already much of it lay in shadow, making it hard for me to spot invisible creatures and other living beings.

“Hello?” I called, taking the risk of calling unwanted attention to myself. Above, footsteps sounded on the stones.

“Go away!” came the shout. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying!”

“I’m not selling anything, sir!” I returned, heading for the staircase leading upwards. “My name is Julian, from Anvil. I seek someone!”

“If you’ve come to proselytize, I’m not interested!” Now the voice sounded closer to the stairs I ascended.

“I’m not seeking to convert anyone, either, sir!” I paused on the landing, hearing footfalls approach me swiftly. Quickly, I sheathed my katana, but kept the Kvatch Wolf up before me. The footfalls stopped in front of me. Oh great, is everyone invisible here?

“Oblivion blast you!” the voice sounded in my face. I could feel the breath on my cheeks, smell the tobacco wafting my way. I took a step back. “What do you want from me?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I made my tone meek. “I’m looking for Ancotar. I’m told he is a great wizard.”

“I am he,” the voice said haughtily. “I am in the middle of a very sensitive research experiment. I have very little time for idle chit-chat.”

“I saw the effects of your invisibility spell, sir,” I responded. “Quite impressive.”

“Ah, yes,” satisfaction crept into his voice. “I have been working on a new invisibility spell. You have seen that it works very well.”

“So well, in fact, sir,” I commented, lowering my shield to my side, “it has made everyone in Aleswell invisible.”

“Oh, really?” Ancotar’s voice turned startled, then pleased again. “Everyone in town?” He inhaled slowly, loudly. “That must have been what all the shouting was about a few weeks ago,” he remarked nonchalantly. “I was too engrossed in an experiment that required my full attention.”

Again I had a mental image of threatening farming implements floating into the ruins. “Your research must be very effective, sir,” I said quietly.

“Ah, yes,” now a little excitement crept into Ancotar’s voice. “You see, in order to increase the efficiency of the spell, the radius was likely to approach the - ah, never mind, I must be boring you.” The excitement faded away.

“Oh no, sir, not at all,” I assured him, though I had no idea what he had just said. “Tell me more, please.”

“Ah, a fellow mage!” Ancotar’s voice warmed. “Please excuse my rudeness earlier. Most people are tedious, completely ignorant of the arcane.” He sighed. “I came here to get some privacy for my research. Instead, the local peasantry has been constantly bothering me!”

His voice took on an aggrieved whining. “‘The explosions are scaring the sheep’ or ‘a plague of rats ate all our crops.’ Every day another complaint!” Again a sigh. “No understanding whatsoever of the pitfalls of experimental magic! I finally decided that permanent invisibility was the only way to get some peace and quiet.”

“Permanent, sir?” I repeated, incredulous. Is there any hope for Aleswell?

“I know!” Ancotar’s voice turned chagrined. “You’re about to quote Vanto’s Third Law - don’t worry!” I heard fabric swishing, possibly due to some arm-waving. “I have not actually found a way to violate the Conservation of Perception! The invisibility is not actually permanent. You can tell the peasants not to worry, it’ll wear off - eventually.” That last word came out just slightly uncertain.

“Eventually, sir?” I asked warily.

“Well, in a year or two, maybe a bit more.” Ancotar admitted. “There’s no way to be absolutely sure. That’s the exciting thing about basic research!”

“Are you certain you want to put up with disruptions for another year, sir?” I asked. “Wouldn’t that interfere with your research?”

“Hmm, well,” Ancotar grew thoughtful. “The peasants have been unusually bothersome lately. Sometimes I can hear them coming, but other times -” his voice trailed off.

“Perhaps if you restored their visibility, sir,” I spoke carefully, “and then took precautions with subsequent experiments, especially with their area of effect -”

“Are you saying they might bother me less?” Ancotar inquired. “Hmm, that is reasonable. Problem is, can those peasants be reasonable?”

I’m certain they entertain the same doubts about you. I kept my thought to myself. “If their normal routine is not disrupted, I doubt they’ll bother you any more, sir.”

“Well, if you think so, fine.” Fabric rustled again, then a different crackling rustling followed. “Here,” he placed something into my hand. “Take this,” he said, as a scroll shimmered into visibility in my hand. “Just stand in the center of the village, to make sure you get everyone. Oh, and make sure - oh, never mind. Should be fine,” he muttered the last few words to himself.

My eyes narrowed at him. “What is this, sir?” I asked.

“That’s my reverse invisibility spell,” he answered. “Just read it in the middle of the village. It should work, although -” again his voice trailed off.

“Should work, sir?” I repeated, even more wary than before. Again, Ancotar pressed something into my hand, or rather onto my right ring finger.

“Just in case, it might be best to wear this ring while you cast the spell,” he said as I looked down to see a plain metal band. A script I didn’t recognize encircled it. “I make them myself,” he continued, matter-of-fact. “Very useful for this kind of research. Not that I think anything will go wrong. Serious side effects are highly unlikely.”

“Thank you, sir,” I turned for the archway. “Good night.”

“Good night, Julian,” Ancotar said. My feet stopped on the stairs as I glanced back over my shoulder. “Yes, I have heard the rumors, too. I’m not completely isolated here, you know.” I heard him chuckle softly. “Being invisible does have its advantages, you know.”

“Yes, sir,” I kept myself from shaking my head. As I limped toward the dirt path, I considered my impressions of Ancotar. Is that what all mages are like? My feet found the road back to Aleswell in the gathering dusk and I continued on. Incompetent like Jeanne Frasoric? Foolish jokesters like J’skar and Volanaro? Pompous kiesters like Ancotar? Thoughts of my visit to the Arcane University passed through my mind as I began to question my decision to enter the Mages Guild. But Raminus Polus and Tar-Meena were very nice to me. So was Selena Orania. Well, the Legion is no different, and I survived that for twenty years.

Masser and Secunda greeted me as I reached the top of the bluff, my limp more pronounced after the hike. Finding the community garden empty of gardening implements, I made my way carefully around the plants to the center. My back to the moons, I unrolled the scroll and squinted at the strange script.

Once I made certain the ring Ancotar had given me was still on my ring finger, I muttered the strange words aloud, “Epai-onny Nai-kym-ai-toi-my-ys!” A faint purple light cascaded around me, shimmered into darkness. Looking around me, I saw only Paint watching me patiently.

It’s dinner time, I realized. Better head to the inn and see if Serethi can be seen. Suiting actions to my thoughts, I weaved my way through the crops out of the garden. With a pause to rub Paint’s neck, I entered the inn.

Ahh, the invisible animals. Julian is lucky she is doing this at low level. Invisible mountain lions are murder when you do not have detect life! I also see the wolf thought better of attacking Julian. That is the second time a wolf has done so, and Julian has wondered if it heard her thoughts. Hmm, is this foreshadowing perhaps?

Ancotar was well portrayed. Now that he is invisible, I suppose he does not have to worry about things like shaving, or combing his hair. Julian's very diplomatic way of talking him into lifting the invisibility was well done. She shows the tact that she doubtlessly learned from decades of dealing with officers in the legion.

Another very fun installment.

I'm with SubRosa on the wolves. I wonder if they don't care for staring down the mighty image of the Kvatch wolf that Julian offers them. Regardless, nice touch.

I loved how Julian dealt with Ancotar. Her wisdom, borne of experience really shone here, despite being a touch befuddled by Ancotar's arcane doublespeak. Once again, you have taken a fun quest and 'filled in the gaps' so it makes wonderful sense and progresses in a perfectly logical manner.

I also like the way you routinely present interesting ways of filling in the environmental backdrop. Like this:

Julian's intimate first person perspective, combined with her ability to 'Julianize' familiar and well-loved aspects of Oblivion make her journey a joy to read!

I really enjoyed this, one of my favourite quests in the game. Yippee!


Or perhaps those Boots of Kynareth that Julian has tucked away somewhere.


Very smooth Julian. Always appeal to a mage's ego!!

@SubRosa: That was exactly how I wanted to portray the interaction between Ancotar and Julian: as an experienced sergeant “handling” a less-than-ideal officer. As for the encounter with the wolf, let’s just say that Julian has learned a thing or two during her years in the Legion.

@Acadian: I’m not sure how much the wolves recognize themselves on the Kvatch shield. In this case, as in the previous encounter, it has more to do with Julian’s body language than anything else. There is actually a level of communication that goes on between predator and prey, where the predator will assess the prey’s response to its presence and act accordingly. Thus, a lion is unlikely to attack an adult elephant or wildebeest that stands its ground and faces it (though in rare cases starvation has driven them to it). Instead, they choose to go after a prey that turns away and runs, or a prey that avoids eye contact. I’m glad you too enjoyed Julian’s interaction with Ancotar.

@Wolf: Appealing to a superior’s ego is the best way to manipulate things your way. Sometimes it makes me wonder who is really the superior there!

Now we get to enjoy the aftermath of Julian’s successful quest. In the morning (the next post), we’ll be back to serious stuff.

****************
Chapter 11.5 Haunted No More

A brown-haired Dunmer greeted me happily. “Julian! You did it! You made us visible again! Thank you!” Serethi, recognizable by his voice, clapped me on the shoulder, rocking me on my feet. “Come in, come in!” Turning toward the patrons gathered around the hearth, he hailed the two Dunmer women. “Adosi, Urnsi! Food and ale for our savior Julian!”

The two scowled at me, but one headed for the bar, and the other bent over the kettle at the fire. “Umm, I should take care of Paint, first, ser,” I remarked, turning to Serethi.

“Of coursse,” an Argonian approached us. “You will want to take care of your horsse, get him ssettled for the night.” He bowed slightly out of respect to me. “I am Ssakeepa, the ssheepherder. He can sstay with my ssheep tonight.”

“Thanks, I’m sure he won’t mind the company, sir,” I responded as the Argonian stepped past me to the door. With a nod at Serethi, I followed Sakeepa out into the night. He waited while I moved to Paint and collected his rein, then led me past the community garden to the sheepfold.

“We do not have grain,” Sakeepa turned his head to speak over his shoulder at me. “But the hay is nutritiouss, and your horsse is welcome to hiss sshare.”

As we approached the sheepfold, a great white dog rose from his position at the gate, his black eyes on Sakeepa, his feathered tail waving happily. “Thiss iss Drift,” the sheepherder said, dropping one hand onto the dog’s broad skull. “He guardss the ssheep againsst wolvess and other creaturess.”

Regarding the dog, I paused as the big animal walked over to me, his tail waving slowly behind him. He came nearly to my waist, and I knew he could easily tower over me if he stood on his hind limbs. Beside me, Paint dropped his nose to Drift and blew softly. The dog nudged Paint’s head with his nose, then returned to the pen.

As Sakeepa opened the gate, Drift floated through and moved among the sheep, gliding around them as they bunched into a far corner away from the entrance. He worked silently, gently shouldering the fluffy creatures in the direction he wanted them to go.

At Sakeepa’s gesture, I led Paint into the pen, and unbridled him. The headstall over one shoulder, I picked up the pack and slung it over my other shoulder. The gelding stood quietly as I unfastened the girth and slid the saddle off his back.

Sakeepa had filled a bucket with water and attached it to a clip set in the low stone wall of the sheepfold. He pointed at the manger, heaped high with hay, its sweet aroma tickling at my nose. By the way Paint’s nostrils fluttered at it, I knew he liked the idea of eating it.

Sakeepa took the saddle and bridle from me, and carried them into a small room set in the side of the fold. He placed the saddle on a round hay bale, hanging the bridle neatly from the pommel. “I’ll take care of it later, after we eat,” he said to me, waving me back toward the gate.

The sheep swarmed around us as we left Paint. Sakeepa glanced back at me. “Do you have any appless or grapess in your pack?” he asked.

“Apples, sir,” I answered. “For Paint.”

“The ssheep ssmell them. They love appless.” Sakeepa nodded at the woolly beasts surrounding us. “Drift,” he spoke to the dog, who started shouldering a path through the flock for us. As we reached the gate, the big canine again drove the sheep back, giving us space to leave the pen unmolested.

“Now, friend,” Sakeepa clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Come back to the inn, have ssome dinner. It’ss on me.”

“Oh, I can pay for -” Sakeepa held up his hand and stopped my protest.

“No, if I don’t pay for it,” his teeth shimmered in a toothy grin, “ssomeone elsse will. Let’ss go, I’m hungry.”

Back inside the inn, he led me to a table where a big Orc was already seated. “Hello, Julian,” he greeted me as I sat down across from him. “Dinner’s on me, ma’am.”

“No -” Sakeepa protested, but gro-Bumph shook his finger threateningly at the Argonian.

“You take care of the horse, Diram’s got the room covered, I take care of the food and drink!” He glanced sidelong at me. “That everything you need, ma’am?”

“Uh, yes, as a matter of fact, it is, sir,” I answered, smiling. “I appreciate your generosity, all of you.”

Serethi grinned at me. “I can’t tell you how great is is to see myself again!” he exclaimed. “Although I wouldn’t mind if my sisters,” he rolled his eyes at the two women I had noticed earlier, “had stayed invisible!” He dissolved into laughter, drowned out by gro-Bumph’s guffaws.

One of the women came up, dropping a stew-laden plate in front of me with a clatter. “You really enjoy this whole hero thing, don’t you?” she said sarcastically. “Everybody fawning over you like this? Forget it, I’m not like that.”

“You would prefer we fawn over Ancotar, Urnsi?” gro-Bumph growled. The scowling woman scoffed.

“If he’s smart, he’ll stay out of my way!” she snapped back. “High Elf and a mage to boot, the worst kind of arrogance!” she tossed her yellow locks back over her shoulder.

“I have to agree with you, muthsera,” I said quietly. “But not all Altmer are like that.” I remembered some of the battlemages I had worked with in the Legion. Some were like Ancotar, haughty and distant, others were more friendly and down-to-earth. Race didn’t seem to matter, either. One of the most approachable battlemages I knew was himself an Altmer.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” the other woman joined her sister, setting a mug of ale in front of me. “He’s a typical Altmer, thinks the whole world is created just for his convenience.” Her frown deepened when I moved the mug to gro-Bumph’s elbow. “If I had my way,” she continued, “we’d go down there and burn him out! Let him find someplace else for his little ‘experiments!’”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, muthsera,” I advised. “As arrogant as he is, he’s liable to cast another invisibility spell on you and leave you ghosts for the rest of your lives.”

Adosi scoffed wordlessly and huffed back to the bar. Urnsi regarded me sulkily. “What’s the matter, our ale not good enough for you?” she gestured at the mug I had passed along to gro-Bumph.

“I don’t drink ale, or wine, muthsera,” I answered, meeting her gaze squarely. “Not anymore. Klah, or water, if you have it, is fine.”

Urnsi scoffed again, but gro-Bumph shushed her. “Get the Redguard some water, Urnsi,” he growled. “And shut up!” Regarding me thoughtfully, he took a huge swallow of the ale. “Sorry about those two,” he said quietly. Why?

“That’s all right, sir,” I answered. “They’re not your responsibility. Don’t ever apologize for them.” I glanced over at Serethi, his gaze on the floor. “Nor you, Diram. They chose to be the way they are, they’ll just have to accept the consequences of their behavior.” I smiled to relieve the tension the two Dunmeri had left behind. “After all, they’re adults.”

The Orsimer guffawed, clapping me hard on my shoulder and almost knocking the fork out of my hand. Sakeepa and Serethi joined in heartily, then the Dunmer innkeeper left the table momentarily. He returned a few moments later with a tumbler of cold water. “I’m glad you don’t take their words to heart,” he said to me, more seriously. “They don’t like any one but each other.”

“That’s fine, ser,” I answered. “Ancotar doesn’t like any one but himself, either.” I looked around at their faces. “He is focused on his research, which requires concentration, hard thinking, and yes, experimentation. He resents disruptions.”

“Sso do we!” Sakeepa exclaimed, the other two men nodding in affirmation. “Explossionss loud enough to sscare the ssheep soo badly they won’t eat or leave the fold? An invassion of ratss that ate all our cropss? Funny lightss at night that keep all of uss awake? Invissible monssterss?”

“One thing I’ve learned over the years,” I remarked, keeping my voice down, “in order to get what you want, you have to give a little, as well. Both you and Ancotar want peace and quiet. Both of you will have to respect that of each other.” I met Sakeepa’s gaze calmly. “Yes, scaring the sheep and losing the crops are terrible things, but the sheep looked happy today, didn’t they, sir?” Sakeepa nodded grudgingly. “And your garden, sir,” I looked at gro-Bumph, “looks like it is thriving, is it not?”

“Yes, it is,” the Orc admitted, just as grudgingly. “But how did you get what you needed from him?”

“I asked about the research he was doing,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. “Honestly I have no idea what he was talking about, but I listened anyway. He gave me the reverse invisibility scroll after we chatted a bit.” And the ring. I still don’t know what it does. Maybe Polus will help me.

Pushing my empty plate away, I leaned back in the chair. “As I understand it, research involves trying something and recording what happens. He will find the results interesting, and may continue that line of research. I would hope that he will show more consideration of the effect of the results.”

“Hmmph,” Serethi scoffed. “I find it difficult to believe that he would do so.”

“I actually think he’s a bit lonely,” I commented.

Sakeepa spluttered onto the table, while gro-Bumph stared at me incredulously. “Lonely?” he roared. “Lonely?” he scoffed. “Balderdash!”

I smiled behind my tumbler. “It’s true, he is arrogant towards those who show no interest in magic or his research.”

“Well,” Sakeepa said after a few moments of silence, “I say live and let live. It was an unfortunate accident, and as you say, Julian, he did help make it right.”

“Exactly,” I answered, tipping my half-empty tumbler towards the Argonian in acknowledgement. Finishing the water, I set it down with a soft click. “It feels late, and it’s been a long day for me,” I glanced at Serethi. “Do you have a bed I can rent, ser?”

“No!” Serethi exclaimed. “The first room upstairs, on the left, is yours for free, as long as you want it!”

After a moment’s consideration, I nodded my gratitude at him. Reaching down for the pack, I smiled at the others. “Thanks for your hospitality, and the company,” I said, making certain to include the Serethi sisters. “It was a pleasure to break bread with all of you.”

11.4 (got ninja'd there)

That was a fun part, Ancotar's personality was spot on - I've met pleanty who aren't so different (though in general the effects of magic research are more fun than those in RL).

You have me intreuged with the wolves, the first piqued my interest but I'd more or less discarded as a throw away comment, now this... I can't imagine what it is though.

Your point on there being suspiciously few normal mages made me chuckle

11.5:

Nicely resolved, you show another side of Julian having her attempt to broker peace between the villagers and the mage and in the limited space they recieved you managed to give them a fairly diverse range of personalities. Great stuff.


'twenty-one' jarred a little for me as I very much doubt that in a quasi-medieval society like that in Cyrodiil the age of being adult is anything like that. Perhaps 'adult' or even just neglecting it would be better?

And now back to serious things and finding daedric artefacts... I can't wait

I am with Olen here. Julian's efforts to mediate a peaceful coexistence between Ancotar and the Aleswellians was well done. She shows more of those diplomatic skillz that she undoubtedly learned as an nco.

Likewise with the depth and life you gave the villagers, and their animals (who once again shine through - trust a vet to write animals so well). Again you seamlessly worked in the game dialogue with new ones, making the two sisters behaviour make more sense as well.

I was not bothered by the mention of age. In ancient Greece and Rome people took on specific responsibilities and gain rights based upon their age. In Athens at 16 a boy had his hair ritually cut during the Apatouria festival, and was reintroduced to his phratry (a fraternal kinship group based on genetic ties). This was essentially his first step towards citizenship. Then at 18 he attained legal majority and was required to serve in the military for two years. Finally at 20 he reentered society as a full citizen.

Nicely done, Rider.

Julian's people skills were fully on display.

This is a fun little quest and you really brought it to life.

To this day I am still wondering what the hell the guys in Beth were thinking when they called the town Ale-Swell

Lovely chapter. It's details like this that make a story come to live and you ace'd it

@Olen: Your remark about the “free, citizens and twenty-one” is a good one. I’ll have to think about it - after all Tamriel has several intelligent races, all of which have different life spans and different “ages of majority.” I’m glad you enjoyed Julian’s brief visit in Aleswell.

@SubRosa: I’m glad you enjoyed the animals as much as I enjoyed writing them. Sheep are pretty stupid, and lack a sense of self-preservation (hence the essential need for a herding dog like Drift, who is actually modeled after a RL herding Great Pyrenees I know). I hope Julian will see more of Sakeepa and Drift when she’s on the north side of the Red Ring Road. I always liked his invitation to come sit awhile.

@Acadian: Thanks!

@Remko: I think they meant Ales - well! As in Ales well that ends well! Thanks for enjoying this little side quest.

Julian seeks out our Bosmer friend today, and gains new respect for him.

*******************
Chapter 11.6 An Education from Gwinas

The Watchman standing outside the Talos Plaza Gate greeted me as I limped up the hill in the misting rain. “You’re moving better, ma’am,” he said to me. Surprised, I glanced at him. He’s right.

“It’s hurting less, thanks,” I said. Those healing spells every night are working. “Of course, then I go and do something stupid like run from a mace-wielding assassin because I left my weapons at the smith’s.”

His grin flashed beneath his helm at my wry tone. “We’ve all been in that situation, ma’am,” he commented. “Don’t forget your backup weapons next time!”

With a chuckle, I entered the City. Just within the entrance, I watched the changing of the Watch and realized it was now noon. Remembering what Gwinas had said, I decided to head to the Tiber Septim Hotel. Even though I was out of my class there, I had to find out if he was still staying there.

The imposing facade and double bronze doors gave me pause, but I drew up my courage and entered. Within, a grand hall made of two wings at right angles to each other nearly tumbled my confidence. At the far end of each wing, a fire crackled merrily in marble hearths, bringing warmth to the cold stone floor and walls.

A blond Imperial woman standing next to a carved inn counter watched me with an assessing glance. Taking a deep breath to bolster my tattered nerve, I limped to her. “Hello,” I greeted her, self-conscious of my plain clothes, my dust-stained pack. “I’m looking for Gwinas, ma’am.”

She eyed me warily. “Yes, I remember you, you helped Gwinas,” she said finally. “I’m Augusta Calidia. Welcome to the Tiber Septim Hotel. He’s at lunch, upstairs,” she pointed to the stairs at the far end of the right hand wing.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said. I turned and headed for the stairs. An old man, dressed in a white mages’ robe, descended the stairs as I reached the bottom.

“Good day, ma’am,” he greeted me affably. “Ontus Vanin, retired. Sleep late, read trashy books,” he grinned at me mischievously. “I don’t keep up with Mages Guild affairs anymore.”

I regarded him for a moment. Maybe mages do know something useful. “I’m Julian, from Anvil, sir,” I said. “Do you know of any Daedric shrines around here?”

“I know of three,” his eyes grew distant. “Hircine, is south of the Imperial City, northeast of Bravil, between the upper Niben and the Green Road.” He paused, thinking. “Then there’s the Meridia Shrine, northeast of the junction of the Silver Road and the Red Ring Road.”

“By Roxey Inn, sir?” I asked. He nodded.

“Up in the mountains above Roxey Inn,” he confirmed. “And I’ve heard the Vaermina Shrine is at the headwaters of the Reed River, though I’ve never been there myself.”

“Thanks,” I said. “And you said you’re retired, sir? From the Mages Guild?”

“I spent forty years at the Arcane University,” Vanin answered. “Good years. But I don’t miss it. Now I’m completely useless, and I’m proud of it.”

Forty years? And I thought twenty-five in the Legion was a long time! I smiled at him. “I hate being useless, sir,” I commented, “so I’m looking for some other purpose.”

“Ah,” Vanin returned my smile. “But you’re young yet,” he assured me. “You’ll find your purpose for - oh - another twenty years or so.”

“Maybe by then I’ll be ready to retire and enjoy being useless, sir,” I responded. He chuckled and walked past me. I turned back to the stairs and headed up.

Entering the dining hall, I spotted Gwinas’s yellow topknot at one of the tables. He looked up at my entrance, and nearly dropped his spoon into his soup in surprise. I crossed the room and paused opposite the table from him, gesturing at the chair next to me. “May I join you, Gwinas?” I asked.

He nodded uneasily. I set my gear down on the floor and took the chair, noting his nervousness. Goodness, I really scared him pretty badly back there in the Market District. How to put him at ease now?

“Hello,” I spoke quietly to the Dunmer serving-woman approaching our table. “What do you recommend for lunch? I’ve traveled far.”

“W- well,” ducking his head nervously, Gwinas pointed at his bowl with the spoon, “the slaughterfish soup is qu- quite delicious, especially with today’s nut bread.” It does smell delicious. Perfect with this fall weather.

“Then I’ll have some of that,” I said to the server. “And some water with it, too please.” As she moved to the sideboard, I turned back to the Bosmer. “And I never got to thank you for your help with the Mythic Dawn,” I was anxious to put him at ease.

“M- my help?” he stammered. Rewarded by the slight relaxation in his face, I nodded. “How was I helpful?”

The server returned with the soup, a chunk of bread, and a tumbler of water. As she set the meal before me, I crooked a finger at her. She leaned closer. “I’ll pay for his meal, too,” I murmured, pointing at Gwinas.

“Yes, ma’am,” she bobbed a curtsy at me. “The wine, too?” she indicated the tall green bottle near Gwinas’s elbow. Surilie Brothers.

“Of course,” I said, trying not to wince at the thought of the cost. If he can help me locate a Daedric artifact, it will be worth it, I tried to convince myself. The Dunmer named a price that caused my heart to stutter, but I reached into my purse and counted out the drakes.

As the wiry Dunmer withdrew, I turned back to Gwinas, who hid the surprise in his expression. “Thank you, but there’s no need -” he began. He stopped when I shook my head at him, anxiety rising again in his eyes.

“You helped me before, with the book you gave me,” I kept my voice quiet, “and the note from the Sponsor,” I watched as his eyes gleamed at the recollection. “They gave me the information I needed to complete my mission.”

“Your mission was successful, I h- hope?” Gwinas asked querulously.

“In a way, yes,” I answered, thinking of the Mysterium Xarxes, and of Jeelius. I should look him up in the Temple of the One. I did promise him.

“Well, then, I’m glad to be of assistance,” Gwinas waved his spoon over his bowl. “But to pay for this, and the wine -” his voice trailed off.

“I can use some more assistance from you,” holding his gaze, I took a sip of the soup. Yummy. “This is quite delicious, Gwinas,” I commented when I had swallowed my mouthful. The anxiety in his expression increased in spite of my words. “No, it does not involve danger to you, sir,” I added. “Rather, it is your knowledge I seek.”

His brows shot up. “M- my knowledge?” he repeated, interested in spite of his unease. “Of what?”

“I’m to find a Daedric shrine,” I answered. “I remember you mentioned a couple -” looking at the ornate ceiling above me, I remembered his words, “- ah, Sheogorath, I think, and Hermaeus Mora.”

“Ah, yes,” Gwinas nodded. “Mehrunes Dagon’s shrine was to be my last one.” He failed to suppress a shudder. “Thank you for keeping me out of that one. What I’ve heard of the Mythic Dawn -” his voice trailed off.

“I don’t think you would have been happy to find his shrine,” I assured him. “Believe me, I wasn’t. They were about to sacrifice a priest from the Temple of the One when I found it.”

The Bosmer’s eyes widened in horror. “Blood sacrifice?” he shuddered again. Taking a deep breath, he grew calm again. “But you wanted to learn about other Daedric shrines?”

“Yes,” I answered. “I need to find a Daedric artifact, and I honestly have no idea how to go about it.” Taking a bite of the food, I swallowed before continuing, “I just spoke to Ontus Vanin, and he mentioned Hircine, Meridia, and Vaermina.”

“And there’s Azura,” Gwinas added. I nodded.

“I read Modern Heretics,” I offered. “But I don’t want to tangle with will-o-wisps, thank you very much.”

Gwinas nodded in agreement. “I bought some glow dust, myself, for that one. Those things scare me plenty!” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. I started to see the dedicated scholar come to the fore. “Hermaeus Mora you can find only by invitation,” he said. “I was invited there after I visited all the other shrines, except, of course, Mehrunes Dagon’s. I don’t think you want to bother with that one.” He sat back in his chair, regarding me thoughtfully. “How are you at traveling?”

“All right, I guess,” I shrugged. “I’ve got a sturdy horse, weapons, and supplies. Why?”

“Quite a few of these Shrines are some distance away in the wilderness,” Gwinas said. “Take Peryite, for example . . .”

We spent the next hour hunched over the table, Gwinas marking the locations of the various shrines on my map, and explaining what each one required. He also told me the quirks of each of the Daedric Princes, which I found invaluable - I didn’t want to perform a task that went against my grain as a Legion soldier.

Finally, we sat back in our respective chairs regarding each other. “I think you have earned your lunch,” I remarked, “and that bottle of wine.”

“I hope so,” Gwinas responded. He seemed at ease with me now.

“I’m told you’re from Valenwood,” I said. “I served there several years ago, when I was in the Legion. It was my first posting after recruit training.”

His eyes brightened at me. “Which part of Valenwood?” he asked.

“Arenthia,” I answered. “The city was okay, but I really liked being in the forest.”

“Did you?” Gwinas seemed pleased. “Why?”

“It was beautiful,” I answered simply.

Gwinas nodded. “The forest is mostly unchanged since the Merethic Era,” he said happily. “Imagine when the Ayleids and beastfolk roamed Cyrodiil, before Man came from the North, when the Aldmeri wizards ruled from their towers -” his voice faded away as he became aware of whom he was speaking to.

“That’s all right, Gwinas,” I said quietly, trying to reassure him. “I don’t deny that the Mer were here first.” I smiled at him. “Some of my best friends in the Legion were Mer, and it was an Altmer battlemage that saved my life.” I leaned my chin on my hand, my elbow on the table. “Tell me about the trees - I always wondered about them. Are they really intelligent?”

We passed the next few hours, sharing memories of this province that still seemed so alien to me. Gwinas told me about the walking city of Falinesti, which had recently stopped walking, for reasons that remained unknown, even to the Bosmer which dwelled in its branches.

Finally, we stopped when the Dunmer woman announced dinner. “I think we had better stop,” I said, turning away from her.

“I’ve enjoyed passing this time with you, Julian,” Gwinas replied, smiling. “It was good to talk about Valenwood with someone who has been there, if only in a small part of it.”

“I enjoyed it, too,” I rose to my feet. “But now I need to see another friend.”

“Shall I see you again?” Gwinas asked me wistfully. I glanced at him as I gathered up my gear. I could see the loneliness in his gaze.

“Probably,” I said. “I’ll be traveling a lot in the foreseeable future, but as long as you’re staying here, I’ll look you up when I’m in the City.”

“I would love to hear of your travels!” Gwinas exclaimed. I raised my eyebrows at him.

“You’re pretty well-traveled yourself, Gwinas,” I commented. “I learned a lot from you this afternoon.” I straightened up, the pack and shield over my shoulder. “Thanks again for your time, and your knowledge.”

“It was my pleasure,” Gwinas rose a little unsteadily, from all the wine, I thought to myself. “Farewell Julian, until we meet again.”

Ahh Gwinas again. My favorite Bosmer Daedric cultist. A good segment describing Julian's intelligence-gathering before setting out upon her actual mission. I notice you did not tell us exactly which shrine she decided to go after though. Not a problem, I understand that you want to wait to reveal that until she gets there. We know that she has at least a stop in the Temple of the One next segment, and who knows what might happen on her way to the shrine. So it could be a while before she even gets there.

The Watchman standing outside the Talos Plaza Gate
So was that Nite Owl I or II? Ozymandias? Or one of the other Watchmen?

Within, a grand hall made of two wings at right angles to each other nearly tumbled my confidence.
I liked the turn of phrase at the end, which eloquently shows how ostentatious displays of wealth can be overawing to people not accustomed to it. I personally always feel distinctly uncomfortable in places like that.

“I hate being useless, sir,” I commented, “so I’m looking for some other purpose.”
This really describes Julian to a tee. It is why she joined the Legion, why she fell so hard on skooma and self-loathing, and why she is so dedicated to her new position as a Blade. Just living is not enough for her.

before Man came from the North
So when did Woman come?

I really liked several things about this.

- You devoted much of this to conversation with Gwinas. That allowed you the 'room' to fully develop things and lavish so much delicious detail. Wonderful dialogue and descriptions and Julian's internal thoughts all very skillfully woven together. Oh, and the soup and wine were tasty as well.

- Oh my! How wonderful that Julian found someone who could fill her in so fully on Daedric Shrines, even answering questions about them. I really liked that!

- I see you also have researched the home of the Bosmer. And who better to tell Julian of the beauty and mystery of the forests of Valenwood than a Bosmer. Like you, I am fascinated by what cities like Arenthia must look like, and moving trees that reach up to the very clouds. Buffy so longs to visit the land of her ancesters south of the Strid River.

Yep, just a joy to read!

I like Gwinas, the way you portray him is refreshing and interesting. He's well rounded now and a bit of an enigma given that he seems fundementally ok but equally must have performed favours for the likes of Molag Bal and Mephala and seems not to regret much. His motives for doing it interest me too, I'm sure they're there but you didn't let enough slip for me to be sure.

And a nice bit of intellignce gathering, it really adds to each event having it preceeded and followed (if the content of the next part is as I suspect) but planning and reaction.

As for which daedric shrine... Azura seems possible with bought glow dust but seeing as she hasn't already I think it might be Meridia. Or less likely Peryite depending on what Gwinas thought of him. I await with interest.

How fantastic that you have gone into a research of the most noble of all the lands of Tamriel.
Ahh, Valenwood, you have brought a tear to the eye of this old war dog.... Thanks!

@SubRosa: You will have the answer to your question sooner than you expect!

@Acadian: My trip to the Pacific Northwest (Olympic National Park) a year ago is still fresh in my mind. Though I spent most of my day in the subalpine region, the drive through the rain forest on Highway 101 stands as one of the most scenic drives I had ever undertaken. I used that for my mental vision of Valenwood, as well as the magnificent oak trees around my childhood home. When I’m not in the mountains, I love to be in the woods. I’m not surprised that Valenwood stands as Julian’s favorite legion posting.

@Olen: Ah, the contradiction that is the quintessential scholar! The constant search for knowledge, when untempered by ethics, can lead in very scary directions. You will soon find out if any of your guesses is correct!

@Wolf: I’m glad you enjoyed Julian’s reminiscences of Valenwood.

Julian starts preparing for her expedition, and falls victim to an impulse purchase. Oh, and Acadian, your perennial question gets laid to rest today. Get ready to count on your fingers (and toes, and your wife’s . . .)!

*****************
Chapter 11.7 Preparations

Outside, in the grey rain of late afternoon, I turned and headed for Green Emperor Way. I wanted to see a merchant about a soul gem. I had decided, during our discussion, that I would visit Sheogorath’s Shrine, north of Leyawiin.

Gwinas had mentioned that the Daedric Prince of Madness would accept an offering of lettuce, yarn, and a lesser soul gem. I had only petty gems, and wasn’t sure I would find a lesser soul gem before I reached Sheogorath’s Shrine. The lettuce and yarn should be easier to find. I can probably pick some up in Bravil on my way south.

As I walked toward the tall gates that opened into Green Emperor Way, I heard a familiar shout behind me - “For Lord Dagon!” and that swooshing sound of summoned armor. Not again! I turned around to see a male Dunmer disappear into bound armor, turn and run towards me. My shield was at my back, just out of easy reach, but I could draw my katana, and I did.

I backed up slowly, hearing booted footfalls as the City Watch at the gates - both the outer gates and the ones leading to the interior of the city, ran towards the Dunmer, shouting to each other. They called for bows, and I sidestepped quickly, seeking cover from the building to my right and trying to stay out of the line of fire. I didn’t want to get arrested again, and fighting under the wrong circumstances was certain to land me back in the Prison.

Fortunately, the Watchmen were competent, and the Dunmer fell without getting close to me. I quickly sheathed my katana as the legionaries scanned the area. They returned to their posts, the one who had passed me stopping to look me up and down. “Are you all right, ma’am?” he asked. I nodded wordlessly. “Good, then.” He knuckled his helm at me. “If you run into trouble, come find me.”

“Thank you, sir,” I answered. “Do you have any news?”

“It’s true what they’re saying,” the Watchman’s gaze turned grim. “Kvatch is lost - the daedra swarmed in. The town guard never had a chance.”

I shook my head. “But they cleared the daedra out later, and took the town back. Of course, it’s destroyed, but they plan to rebuild.”

“It will be difficult,” the Watchman responded. “With the Emperor dead, it’s all the Elder Council can do to hold things together during this Crisis.”

“They’ll send support, won’t they?” I asked. The Watchman shrugged.

“It’s hard to say,” he said. “Now with new Gates opening all across Tamriel, things are getting a little stretched on the ground here and in the provinces.”

“I see,” I glanced back at the body of the Dunmer. “Thanks again, for helping me out.”

“It’s our job,” he said, taking up his post. I nodded and walked past, limping up the stairs to the gates. I entered the Green Emperor Way and turned deosil, toward the Market District.

Entering the Market District, I walked through it, searching for a particular store. I found it, tucked in a corner of one of the smaller plazas along the outer wall. Mystic Emporium. I remembered hearing rumors about the place as being a good source of magical equipment.

A tall Altmer with red hair swept back from a widow’s peak in a leonine mane, greeted me. “Welcome to the Mystic Emporium. Calindil is here, with all your needs, under one roof. Look, and buy. Nothing could be easier.”

“Do you have any soul gems?” I asked him. He nodded and led me to a display case. I asked him the differences in prices.

“These are petty soul gems,” he pointed at the set of three small stones in the case. Now he moved his finger to indicate four stones that were slightly larger. “These are lesser soul gems.”

“I’ll take one of those, please,” I said, pointing to the lesser soul gems.

“That’s a septim and forty-four drakes,” he said. One hundred and forty-four drakes! I shook my head.

“One septim and twenty-six drakes,” I countered. He echoed my refusal.

“One and thirty-two. Final offer.” He said, his voice firm. I sighed and counted out the coins. He handed me the soul gem. “Thank you for your business,” he said, smiling at me. I smiled back, slipping the gem into my pack.

“You’re welcome, Calindil.” I responded as I headed for the door. “Good day.”

“Farewell, and come back!” he called after me. I thought to myself, Not until I can haggle better than that.

I turned and spotted a sign at the other end of the plaza: Office of Imperial Commerce. I regarded it curiously. What is an Office of Imperial Commerce? Would they tell me which merchants sell what goods? Only one way to find out.

I wandered across the plaza and entered the small building. Inside the cluttered office, I spotted an thin, careworn woman seated at a desk. She looked up at me, irritated, as I drew near. “Hello,” she said curtly.

“Hello,” I answered. “I’m Julian. I’m wondering what is it you do here?”

“Vinicia Melissaeia, Office of Imperial Commerce,” she replied shortly. “You got complaints? Of course you got complaints. Who doesn’t?” I looked at her, confused. She sighed huffily. “You have complaints against merchants here? You file complaints with me. I fill out lots of forms, which go to a lot of people who ignore them,” she explained. “So what else did you expect? Justice? Go to the Chapel. Talk to Zenithar. He’ll take care of everything.” Her sarcastic tone implied that she didn’t believe it.

“I have no complaints,” I said. “Not against any of the merchants here.”

“Well, then, what did you come here for? To buy a house?”

“I can buy a house?” I asked. “You sell houses here in the City?”

“Well, yes, of course,” Melissaeia exclaimed, exasperated. “What did you think, that you could go to the Chancellor himself and haggle with him like a fishwife?”

I stifled a laugh at the image her words conjured up. “Actually, no,” I answered. “I’ve never bought a house before, so this is new to me.”

“Well, if you want to buy a house, I can take your information and find something that’s available.”

“Really?” I asked, startled. Do I want to buy a house? I recalled the weight of my wallet. It would deplete my savings, but a house where I could keep my gear, store things I could sell, and practice my alchemy, appealed to me. “How do we start?”

“I’ll need your name first.”

“It’s Julian,” I answered. “From Anvil.”

“Age?” she asked, scribbling on the parchment. She looked up at me when I paused. “How many Julians d’you think are out there?”

“Not many from Anvil, I doubt,” I answered. “It’s uncommon enough there. Okay, I was born on 12 Evening Star, in the year 386,” I said reluctantly. Melissaeia scribbled some more.

“Occupation?” she asked me. I blanked. What?

“Um, mage apprentice, does that count?”

Melissaeia did not respond, only scribbled further. “Your parents’ names and races, please.”

“My mother was a Redguard, Zahira,” I answered. “My father, I don’t know - he disappeared before I was born, and my mother never spoke of him.”

“Next of kin?” she asked. I shook my head against the long-forgotten grief.

“None,” I said quietly. Melissaeia looked up at me, her expression a little kinder.

“Were you born in Anvil, Julian?” she murmured.

“Yes, and I served in the Legion for twenty-five years, until four years ago,” I answered.

“Were you honorably discharged?” she asked me.

“Yes, for medical reasons,” I replied.

“Your highest rank in the Legion?”

“Pilus Prior, Nonus, in Legio Six,” I anticipated her next question. She nodded to herself as she scribbled madly. She finally put her quill down and surveyed the document. She turned to the cubbyholes behind her and pulled out a pouch. Opening it, she set it on the table and pulled out a stack of parchment.

“I’m sorry to say the only place available is a hovel on the Waterfront District,” she said, flipping through the sheaf of documents. “Twenty septims.”

Two thousand drakes? Isn’t that a lot? But I’ve managed to save more than that. “It’s a deal,” I said, opening my purse. Melissaeia stared at me in surprise as I counted out two thousand drakes in various denominations.

“Really?” she exclaimed. “Then you’ve just become a homeowner.” She drew out a folded parchment from a drawer in her desk and handed me an iron key. “Here is your house key.”

“Well,” she said, satisfied. “That’s that.” She flickered her fingers over the parchment, and it rustled in the faint green glow that appeared at her fingertips, becoming two pieces. She kept the bottom piece and handed me the top piece. “There you go, your copy of the deed. Please check it and make sure all the information is correct.”

I studied the parchment, and nodded. “Everything is correct,” I answered. Melissaeia handed me the quill.

“Good, then, sign right here,” she indicated a blank line on the parchment on the desk. I signed my name, my left hand cramping as I struggled to hold the quill steady.

“There, all set,” Melissaeia’s voice took on a note of satisfaction. “You’ll find it in the Waterfront District, at the north end of the street. It’s not much to look at. You may want to spruce it up a bit. Talk to Sergius Verus at Three Brothers, here in the Market District.”

I slipped the key into my pocket and the deed into my pack. “How do I get to the Waterfront District?” I asked her.

“Through the Temple District,” she answered. “Across from the Temple of the One, you’ll find the gate to the tunnel that runs down to the Waterfront.”

“Thanks, ma’am,” I said, turning for the door. Leaving the office, I looked around. Across the street, I saw a store marked Edgar’s Discount Spells. Hmm, I thought to myself. Detect Life, maybe?

In the store, I was greeted by the shopkeeper. “Edgar Vautrine,” he introduced himself. “You don’t want the very best. You want cheap. And I got cheap.”

“What do you have?” I listened as Edgar ran through his list of spells, and purchased a few, making my purse even lighter. He taught me how to summon a bound dagger, call up a skeleton, and how to detect life within twenty meters for thirty seconds. Once I practiced them a few times, I felt I had a grasp of them, and thanked Edgar.

“Anytime, ma’am,” he said, pleased with the transaction.

Leaving his store, I considered heading to the Three Brothers, but decided that I should look at my house first and see what I needed to get. And stop by the Temple, see Jeelius.

Wonderful, again.

I was hoping Julian would decide to visit Sheo's shrine - excellent choice for several reasons.

You call forth wonderful images of the game throughout this, even including the dialogue that we know and love.

My goodness, I was very close on Julian's age - within a couple years. I'm sure she would slap me if I told you in which direction.

I think it is neat that the guards took down that Mythic Dawn creep for Julian.

I'm glad to see that Julian got herself a backup weapon with that bound dagger. Nice to see her perhaps getting a little more comfortable with magic. I know, I know, old habits and new tricks and all.

Her own house! Great view of the lake, nice and cozy, lovely warm fireplace. Congrats, Julian!

Another attack by the Mythic Dawn I see! I wonder which makes Julian more uncomfortable, being praised as the Hero of Kvatch, or being attacked for it!

I see a bit of world-building on your part as well. A septim is worth a hundred drakes. I like that, I will probably use that too.

I loved how you described Vinicia as being a world-weary, cynical civil servant. She was lots of fun to read.
“What did you think, that you could go to the Chancellor himself and haggle with him like a fishwife?”
This line of hers was precious!

And now we finally learn Julian's birthdate! She is a little older than I imagined although only slightly. That means her birthsign is the Thief. She was born in the same month as Teresa, albeit a few weeks earlier (and a few decades... ).

So Julian is now a proud homeowner too. I suspect the proud part will disappear once she sees her new hovel. Still, it is a good place to throw your junk, and thankfully with Oblivion being a game none of the thieves that the Waterfront is packed with will ever break in and steal it all. It is too bad you play on a console. There are several decent mods that add houses to the IC. My favorite adds a simple one room apartment to the Market District, which makes it very easy to RP a character from the Imperial City.

No next of kin I see. Poor Julian. We might suppose that her mother reached the standard three score and ten years and died naturally. Her brother Cieran on the other hand...

nits:
Gwinas had mentioned that {the?} Daedric Prince of Madness would accept an offering of lettuce
I think you wanted a the where I inserted it above.

I entered the Green Emperor Way and turned clockwise
I only bring it up because in the past you have mentioned that you did not like using the term clockwise in a setting without clocks. Perhaps you might use sunwise or deosil as you have in the past?

I like you making a Septim a hundred drakes, it works well in setting and builds a bit more world. I too might steal that (with some alterations...)

Sheogorath... Hmm I don't hink she knows what she's let herself in for, though equally after her handling of J'Skar and Volenaro I'm not sure Sheogorath knows whats coming either . I can't wait to see how you portray his quest, or for the moment where Julian discovers the effect of his item

And her age, actually a bit younger than I'd guessed... She joined the Legion young then.

I too liked Vincia, she was hilarious to read, spot on for that sort of job.

And now a homeowner, I think she'll stay proud though seeing as she's never owned a home and now does. I've certainly stayed in worse places than that 'hovel'.

twenty meters - not really a nit but IMO imperial measures fit a fantasy setting better, the game uses feet. Meters makes me think of short Frenchmen trying to be different and inadvertantly producing a flawed but almost ok system while they were at it (they're also nominally based on the size of the Earth).

Julian is 47 years old? My guess would have been around 50.

Ha! I'm 53 this year. Hey, Julian, young kid, come here and listen to the master....

@Acadian: I agree with you on the house. Sure, it’s a hovel, but the location is so gorgeous! Sunset on the lake is worth more than 2K! It’s one of my favorite places - small (easy to keep clean), plenty of storage, a fireplace that’s always going, and waterfront footage. What more could a lake-girl ask for?

@SubRosa: It’s these kinds of chapters that really make world-building possible for me. It’s nice to sit back and really think about what day to day life is like. Don’t worry, Julian is used to worse (camp tents and cold barracks), this little shack will seem like a palace to her. As for her kin, you’ll find out later rather than sooner whether you’re right or not. That one clockwise ticked right past me! Thanks for catching it.

@Olen: Thanks, I had fun writing Vincia - she has some of the quirkiest dialog in the game. When I first started writing this story over two years ago, I went back and forth between the English/Imperial and metric system. I finally decided to go with metric because it’s easier for me to visualize distances with it; also as a veterinarian, I use metric weights and volumes all the time.

@Remko: Heh heh. Julian doesn’t take offense at your guess. After all, what’s a couple of years at that point in life?

@D.Foxy: Flatterer!

Julian meets another old friend, then gets a look at her new neighborhood.

**************
Chapter 11.8 Homecoming

Within the Temple, I was taken aback by the beauty of the simple structure. A round colonnade marked the Dragonfires in the center, now dark. Light cascaded from small round apertures set just beneath the dome around the structure. Tall narrow windows between the columns in the outer wall added more light to the interior.

“Julian!” that familiar hissing voice called to me. I looked to see Jeelius, clad now in the grey robe of Akatosh, crossing the floor towards me, his sharp teeth bared in a grin. “How good to ssee you!”

I stepped down to the floor, putting my hands in his outstretched fingers and clasping them. “I promised that I would see you the next time I visited the Imperial City,” I said. “I’m here to keep that promise. How have you been?”

“Good,” Jeelius said. “The nightmaress are getting better now. I’m jusst happy to be back.” He clasped my right shoulder. “It iss good to ssee you again. You rissked your life to ssave me, a sstranger. You are truly among the blesssed of Arkay’ss children.”

“Oh, I’m not sure about that, Jeelius,” I said, embarrassed by his praise. “It was the right thing to do at the time. I still feel that way, and I’m very glad to see you safe back home.”

Jeelius smiled at me. “Do you have a little time?” he asked me. I nodded. “Allow me to show a small token of my gratitude, and let me share some of my ssmall sstore of knowledge of the healing spellss with you.” He promptly demonstrated to me how to cast a stronger healing spell on myself, and helped me cast one at a nearby target.

After about an hour of coaching I felt drained, but I could now cast a stronger self-healing spell. The practice reduced the constant ache in my right knee to a mere twinge, and completely eliminated the ache in my left side. Even better, I could now throw a decent Convalescence spell.

Once I caught my breath, I thanked Jeelius for his coaching. A tall Altmer woman approached us. “You must be Julian,” she greeted me. “I’m Tandilwe. Jeelius has told us of your bravery and courage in saving his life. We are grateful to you for returning our brother to us.”

“Well, I couldn’t leave him there,” I answered. “They were about to sacrifice him, and I didn’t like that idea.” I nodded at the Argonian. “He was very brave, too. He didn’t panic, and he kept me alive in there.” I shook my head. “It was Jeelius who saved me, not the other way around.”

Tandilwe smiled down at me. “That’s not what Jeelius says,” she countered. “Be as it may, you are welcome here anytime, Julian.”

“I may stop in more often,” I said, meeting Jeelius’s gaze. “I just bought a house in the Waterfront, so now I’m a resident of the City.”

“How wonderful!” Jeelius exclaimed. “Yess, you musst sstop in often.”

“It was my pleasure meeting you, Tandilwe,” I said to the Altmer. “And Jeelius, it was good to see you looking so well. I must leave now, so good night to you both.”

At the entrance to the tunnel leading down to the waterfront, I shifted the pack on my shoulder and started limping along the dark passage. Unlike the working-class Elven Gardens, and the upper-class Talos Plaza and Temple districts, the people here were more shabbily dressed, with run-down postures and varying signs of illness.

The air in the tunnel was dank and malodorous with mold, rot, and sweat. Voices rebounded off the dripping stone walls and swirled along the mud-caked pavement. My left foot slipped a little on a particularly damp spot, and a foul odor rose to my nose. This is more than just mud, I thought with distaste. Here and there dark shadows huddled or lay slumped against the walls, giving me a hint of the true nature of the slick material coating the paving stones.

I was once one of them, I mused. Until Emperor Uriel Septim stepped into my cell, and my life. How many unfortunate souls have not been so lucky as I?

Finally I reached the end of the tunnel and stepped out into a cool, clean, evening. The rain had faded back to a misty drizzle, and the temperature had fallen enough that I could just see my breath in the damp air. Ahead of me, a lighthouse rose from a rocky outcrop, an echo of White Gold Tower. The road led down from the tunnel to the small spire, where steep stairs gave pedestrians access to the base of the structure.

Porters, some bearing heavy packs and others dragging laden carts, passed me on their way to the tunnel leading into the City. The air rang with shouts, commands, and curses. Typical end-of-the-day rush. Everyone wants to get their jobs done and go home.

As I mounted the lighthouse base, I spotted several ships moored along the crescent harbor. To the left, at the eastern end, a wide-beamed caravelle floated placidly, barely moving with the mild waves. Its cantilevered top deck attracted my curiosity. How does that thing even avoid capsizing at sea? It’s so top-heavy! Smaller craft lined the harbor between the caravelle and the bridge connecting the lighthouse to the waterfront.

Once on the stone span, I looked to my right and spotted fewer boats docked, mostly near the bridge. By itself at the far end, a sleek galleon rode at anchor. I recognized the beautiful, fast and deadly craft favored by pirates.

On the broad paved avenue running along the harbor-front, I paused to look around. Tall buildings lined the outer curve of the avenue, towering over the workers and residents. High bronze doors led into shadowed interiors, several with the distinctive dragon-shaped signs indicating the Imperial warehouses. More than a few signs above other doors indicated brothels and taverns. The numbers of sailors and off-duty Legion soldiers moving in and out of these entries suggested they did good business.

Several people stared at me, nudging each other as they passed. Their eyes flickered from my white hair to the Kvatch Wolf on my left arm. Beneath the commotion typical of harbor-fronts everywhere, I could hear snatches of whispers - Hero of Kvatch - closed the Oblivion Gate - tall for a Redguard woman -

The whispers faded away at the clanking of armor. I turned to see one of the Watchmen approaching me, his plate catching the glow of torch light. “Hello, ma’am,” he greeted me. “You’re new here.”

Chagrined, I nodded. “Yes, sir, I just bought a house, but I have no idea where it is.”

His brows lifted beneath his helm. “You bought a house?” he remarked in mild surprise. “Here in the Waterfront?”

“It was all Melissaeia had, sir,” I responded. “I just want to have a place to stay when I’m in the Imperial City.”

“Do you have the deed?” the Watchman asked. Digging it out of my belt pouch, I showed it to him. He peered at it, tilting it to the torches without taking it out of my hand. “On Well Street. That’s old Tormund’s house.” He turned from me and pointed out a flight of stairs piercing the wall of buildings directly opposite the bridge. “Go through there, and down to Dareloth Way. Turn right, and follow it to the end. The house is on Well Street, right where Dareloth ends.” He eyed me thoughtfully, his gaze taking in the Kvatch Wolf and the katana riding my left hip. “Just be careful, it’s not a genteel neighborhood.”

His words brought a crooked smile to my mouth. “I doubt I’d fit in a genteel neighborhood, sir,” I responded. “I don’t suppose you can recommend a good, cheap place to eat?”

“Certainly,” the Watchman nodded. He pointed out the modified caravelle I had spotted earlier. “That’s the Bloated Float. It’s an inn, believe it or not.”

“It’s -” I regarded it thoughtfully, “- bloated, all right.”

The Watchman chuckled. “Aye, it is. But it’s warm, the food is simple but hearty, and the company quite entertaining.” He nodded at me before passing on, continuing his rounds.

I thanked Jeelius again for his recent coaching as I limped up the stairs and paused at the summit. More stairs led down to a cobblestone street, lined by rough-looking wooden houses and brothels. Fewer people walked along the street here, most of them quite shabbily dressed. Every now and then, I caught a whiff of skooma, a scent of drink. Fortunately, the familiar smells did not trigger the old cravings I used to have, and I was able to hobble past them.

A cobblestoned avenue crossed the street I moved down. A faded sign identifying the wider road as Dareloth Way. With a right turn, I found myself walking down what passed for the main road in the slums. Crooked buildings made of weathered boards, roofed with warped and cracked shingles, lined both sides of the avenue. In the damp weather, the uneven cobblestones harbored puddles scattered across the way. Moss filled in the spaces between the individual stones.

Here and there, people lounged on tilted stoops, some slumped in their own drugged fog, others watching the traffic. Some of the latter met my gaze with thinly veiled distrust, though most were careful to avoid outright hostility. Children in muddy, ragged clothes, some of them barefoot, ran past me. However, when I glanced back over my shoulder, I discovered that some of them had circled back and were following me. They kept their distance, their eyes wide on my Kvatch Wolf. Even they have heard the rumors of the old woman who went into that damned Oblivion Gate.

As the Watchman had said, Dareloth ended at another narrow street, and a small shack stood at the opposite side of the cross road. It looked as rundown as the other buildings. What have I gotten myself into? What if the roof leaks? What if it’s drafty? I found the door locked, and tried the key.

The lock turned stiffly, and the door creaked open to reveal a dark, dusty interior. Leaving the door open to let in the feeble torchlight from outside, I stepped inside. Home.

A nice, relaxing chapter where Julian reaps the rewards of her actions at Lake Arrius (the two times I have done the MQ, I have never thought to stop by the temple afterward to talk to Jeelius). Some good world-building of her new home, making the Waterfront come alive in all its dingy glory. Julian's Anvillian knowledge of ships shows through it with her observations about the ships.

Do I see a diversion at the Bloated Float soon? Hopefully Methredhel will not pick Julian's pocket and rob her blind while she is in there.

This is more than just mud, I thought with distaste.
Ewwww! You tell us volumes about the Waterfront with just that one passage!

Wonderful rich description of the approach to and the Waterfront itself. It seemed natural that circumstances in the Waterfront would remind Julian of the lower points in her own life. I expect she will not spend too much time in the Waterfront, but based on your comments, it seems she is one to appreciate the beauty (lake, sunrises, cozy fireplace) that the area offers - of course, once you look beyond the. . . mud.

Julian's wonderful observations of the shipping leads me to wonder if she has ship experience from Anvil or indeed, is part of it that famous Redguard seafaring blood?

I'm so pleased to see her restoration abilities continuing to improve.

I very much like how Julian perceives and deals with being called the hero of Kvatch. Much to her chagrin I'm sure, the title certainly suits her, and her awkward modesty about it endears it to her even more.

Chapter 11.4 Ancotar

If Vanto’s Third Law is about the rigid inviolable nature of the Conservation of Perception, what are the first two? I’m sure one of them must be about tampering with scrolls of Icarian Flight (ah, Tarhiel)!

I always wait until after I join the Mages Guild before I do this quest simply because I like how obsequious Ancotar gets when he finds out you are a ‘fellow mage’. You deviated from the in-game dialogue at just the right time and in just the right way to give the impression that Julian persuaded him to help the people of Aleswell. Now at least Paint will see the hand that feeds him.

And, like ‘Rosa, I am intrigued by the question of why wolves are choosing not to attack Julian. Maybe it’s foreshadowing or maybe you’ve just chosen not to portray your wolves as the foaming psychopaths that the game presents us.

Chapter 11.5 Haunted No More

So let me get this straight, Volanaro and J’Skar get threats and a firm dressing down while the two ungrateful, obnoxious sisters get an ‘oh that’s all right, they’re free, citizens and twenty-one!’ I know technically the two sisters were not engaged in a prank against their superior, but still. If Julian is going to be condescending and preachy to the boys than fairness dictates that she be equally so to the girls!

You did an excellent job of bringing the people of Aleswell to life in this chapter. I pity Diram; maybe he can get Ancotar to create a wide area silence (not the kind that prevents spellcasting) spell. Come to think of it, I could use one of those myself!

Chapter 11.6 An Education from Gwinas

At first I thought the conversation with Ontus Vanin was a little forced:

Now I know that Vanin’s dialogue is lifted from the game, but Julian’s response seemed a little abrupt to me. I realize that the whole purpose of her coming to the Imperial City was to get more information on Daedric Shrines, but is that really something that you would ask the first guy you meet on the street? I suspect that in Tamriel conversations concerning the Daedra usually occur amongst those you trust, especially considering the inordinate amount of hoops that one must jump through just to get an opinion about the city out of some people (ahem, Modryn Oreyn, ahem).

I said at first because the entire conversation with Gwinas made me completely forget whatever small issue I might have had with the beginning of the chapter. The discussion of the different Shrines is almost as intriguing as the speculation on Julian’s love interest. I especially loved the impromptu history lesson (not surprising). After reading this I want to tackle the Main Quest if for no other reason than to meet Gwinas!

Chapter 11.7 Preparations

A mystery finally solved! Julian’s age revealed! It’s a wonder she has lived this long. 12th Evening Star means she was born under the sign of the Thief (just like me!). Those born under that sign have increased luck, but they are also prone to recklessness and rarely live to a ripe old age.

Someone should have told Julian that by the time she is able to get everything that Sergius offers for her new house she could have gotten a slightly haunted, run-down manor house in her home town on the cheap!

This is an awkwardly worded sentence. Your writing is good enough that I don’t think you should worry about beginning sentences with the word ‘I’.





Chapter 11.8 Homecoming

It appears that Julian is indeed becoming more comfortable with magic. I am glad that she has finally moved beyond the Heal Minor Wounds on self spell. Now she will be able to heal Paint when those pesky Timber Wolves, Mountain Lions, and Trolls that can’t be outrun sashay right past Julian's naked blade to attack Paint!

I simply loved your description of the waterfront. You made the squalor something that we can see, touch and, oh yes, smell! I disagree with Sage Acadian in one respect. I think that, knowing Julian, she will take it upon herself to try and ‘redeem’ the Waterfront. Don’t look now Carwen, Hillod, Isleif, and Puny . . . I think you’ve just found another protector.

A nice bit of world-building and reaction with seeing Jeelius again. Good stuff and a good feel of relaxation and change of pace for this chapter. Thinking of it the pace changes in the piece are very good and flow so well with the action that it's seemless.

And the waterfront... that brought it alive. The tunnel in particular was brilliant, it had never crossed my mind how foul that would be. Underground sections are always vile so on going to a bad area would be quite special, and you shows it just that way. I'm interested to read more of her exploits in the waterfront. But for all you showed it to be a dirty, poor and somewhat cliquey area that last word, "Home", fits perfectly. No matter how bad a place is if it's home it's ok, very pragmatic/stoic of her.


A thought I had many times stepping out of my flat last year on sunday morning...

@SubRosa: I’m glad you enjoyed Julian’s first impression of the Waterfront. I admit to a certain fondness for the place - yes, it’s seedy and disreputable, but what you see is what you get, and I like that sort of honesty. As for a diversion at the Bloated Float, while Julian will enjoy her meals there, I’m not sure that she’ll get involved with the Blackwater Bandits, though it would be right up her alley, wouldn’t it? When I was visualizing the tunnel to the Waterfront, memories of manure pit barns I visited during vet school (in February, in Minnesota - cold, frozen, and just miserable!) were prominent! Eww! That was exactly the response I was going for!

@Acadian: Julian picked a lot up visiting the waterfront of her childhood - Anvil. She has also traveled considerably via ship from posting to posting (i.e. to Valenwood, then from VW to High Rock, then HR to Skyrim . . .). Mud is mud, and washes off with a good swim in the lake, as Julian well knows!

@Destri: My, what a wealth of comments! As for the wolves, we’ll see - I have a glimmer of an idea there, but I haven’t yet decided whether to use it or not. As for Chapter 11.5, the reason Julian didn’t dress down the obnoxious sisters in the inn is because they’re not part of the same cadre she is. She’s like me - very strict about the behavior of my staff in the clinic, but far more lenient about the behavior of citizens behaving badly outside work (though I don’t tolerate so much from clients in the clinic, either). Don’t worry, any female slackers in the Mages Guild will find themselves on the pointed end of her tongue as well. A certain Altmer lady comes to mind. Anyway, I have changed the dialogue a little bit there. Also I added a bit of Julian’s thinking to the conversation with Vanin in 11.6. I’m glad you still enjoyed the visit with Gwinas. That scene is not in the MQ - it is completely original. Thanks for the sentence help in Chapter 11.7. As for the recklessness typical of the Thief sign, that got trained out of Julian in the Legion. And yes, in the last segment of chapter 11, she is becoming more comfortable with magic. We will see her using it more and more during combat, as she discovers what an invaluable resource it can be for the solitary adventurer.

@Olen: I see you have had your share of experiences about “more than just mud!” I don’t think you’re far off yourself!

Julian makes herself at home, and discovers, to her surprise, that her sensuality hasn’t permanently gone AWOL.

****************
Chapter 12.1 On the Waterfront

Groping my way to the barely-visible fireplace at the rear of the small hut, I set my pack down. While I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dimness, I looked around. My house consisted of a single room, with the fireplace against the back wall. A rickety looking table with two chairs at the left side of the room, and a lumpy bed set against the right wall were the only furnishings.

Torchlight appeared in the doorway. My hand dropped to my hilt, but I did not draw my katana.

“Hello?” a male voice reached me. “I see I have a new neighbor.” He remained outside, on the stoop. “Welcome to the Waterfront.”

“Thanks, I think,” I responded, limping toward the door. I needed to get a fire started in the fireplace to start drying out the place. It would be good to have some light. And food.

“I’m Armand Christophe,” he said, stepping back to let me out. A Redguard like myself, he stood a little taller than me. Short-trimmed black hair was slicked back from a high forehead, above black eyes and a short, upturned nose. His gaze was not quite friendly, but not quite hostile, either. He wore a weathered leather cuirass, much like mine, and carried a steel mace at his left hip.

“I’m Julian, from Anvil,” I responded, unslinging the Kvatch Wolf from my left arm and setting it just inside the doorway. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“You’ll need to start a fire,” he said quietly. “The woodcutter’s closed until tomorrow morning, so you can borrow some from my woodpile,” he pointed at the neatly stacked timber tucked beneath the wide eaves of his home, just north of my shack. “Just replace what you take in the morning.”

“Where is the woodcutter’s?” I asked him. In answer, he pointed toward the tall buildings fronting the harbor. I could see another set of stairs piercing that wall of stained marble at this end of the barrier.

“Through that archway,” he said, “first door on the left.” He turned and gestured for me to follow him. As I limped after him, he shot me a glance over his shoulder. “One word of advice,” he added, “People who ask a lot of questions around here tend not to be very popular.”

His words gave me pause. Do I trust him? From what I’ve seen here, there’s a lot of criminal activity here, same as in any slum. Is he part of it? “That’s fine,” I answered finally, stopping before the woodpile. He started handing me the cordwood with one hand, holding the torch high with the other. At least people won’t be asking me too many questions. I hope. “Thanks for the tip.”

When my arms were filled, he accompanied me back to my house, but again remained in the doorway when I entered. At least he’s polite to my face. He was considerate enough to let the torchlight fall into the house so I could see to stack the wood in my hearth. With my flint and dagger I was able to get a fire going. At least I haven’t forgotten that from my Legion days. “Thanks for your help,” I turned back to the empty doorway. Hmm. Apparently he only stayed to give me some light until I could get my own. Rising to my feet, I limped to the door in time to see his broad back disappear into the fog on Dareloth Way.

With the door closed against the damp night, I returned to the fire and adjusted the burning logs so it would burn low and slow. Once the chimney damper was open to allow the smoke out, I felt comfortable with leaving it. I placed my pack on the table, the Kvatch shield against the wall, my bow and quiver in the adjacent corner, and Daedra Slayer on the mantle above the fireplace.

Quickly I changed from my leathers into the green shirt and tan skirt. After I slipped my feet into the cowhide shoes, I replaced the katana at my hip. Time to head to the Bloated Float and see about that supper.

Back out in the mist, I turned left and headed for the stairs Christophe had shown me earlier, limping up the stone steps. At the top, I found myself looking down on that beautiful galleon. The harbor looked quiet now, all the stevedores and porters gone home, but there were a few dangerous-looking men gathered near the ship’s gangplank, all carrying cutlasses. They called to each other in joking voices. I doubted they lacked the skill, or the inclination, to use those deadly blades.

A handsome young Redguard, his muscular chest bare in the cool night air, darted from the group to stop in front of me. Thin black braids tipped with brass beads cascaded over one wide shoulder as he bowed to me. “Ho, hey, sweet lady of Wayrest!” he sang, his black eyes mocking in the torchlight as I limped to my right to avoid him. “Ho, hey, sweet lady of mine!” I felt my cheeks burn as his teeth flashed white in a sardonic grin. Damn! “Oh I’ll see you again, yes I’ll see you again, sweet lady of Wayrest so fine!”

Well aware of the gazes from his companions, I took a deep breath and eyed him up and down, taking my time. “Actually, young sir,” I said quietly, keeping my voice steady against the hammering of my heart - fear, or rather, desire? “I’m from Anvil, but thank you very much.”

One eyebrow quirked up over his black gaze, and he bowed again, this time with a flourish of his right hand, his left resting on the hilt of his cutlass, the beaded braids jingling softly. “My mistake, sweet lady of Anvil,” he responded, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Forgive me for my assumption.” His tone was anything but apologetic.

I couldn’t help smiling at his sardonic flirting. “Good night, Redguard,” I started past him, then paused and turned back to him. “Or should I call you - Blackguard?”

He laughed heartily. “Suits me fine, sweet lady of Anvil,” he answered. I lifted my chin and spun on my left heel, the skirt flaring around my legs. Limping away from the galleon, I heard his voice call after me, “Oh, I’ll see you again, yes I’ll see you again, sweet lady of Anvil so fine!”

Ahead, a Watchman, not the same one I had met before, glanced at me as he approached. “That man giving you trouble, ma’am?” he asked. I shrugged.

“Nothing I can’t handle, I don’t think,” I answered, still smiling. Damn, but he’s fine himself! It has been a long time since anyone flirted with me like that. Long time since Jared - My smile faded at the memory. With a forced inhalation against the old grief rising in my throat, I met the Watchman’s gaze. “Thanks for asking, sir.” The soldier nodded at me before continuing his patrol.

I limped around the long curve of the harbor-front until I reached the gangway leading to the Bloated Float at the far end. The ungainly silhouette rose above me as I paused before the gangway leading from the dock onto the deck. There is no way that ship can be seaworthy. Tempting scents wafted from beyond the carved wooden door that led into the covered top deck.

Stepping into the interior, I found myself looking up at a burly green form. The Orc towered over me, his black eyes scowling. “Hello, sir,” I limped one step away from him, my neck already cricking from meeting his gaze. “I’m Julian of Anvil, and I’m told good food is cheap here.”

“Graman gro-Marad,” the big Orsimer rumbled. “I’m the bouncer here.”

“I promise to behave, sir,” I held up my hands.

He grinned toothily at me. “We rarely get real trouble here,” his drawl reverberated like thunder in the distant hills. “The Watch puts an end to rough stuff damn quick. I’m mostly ornamental here. Makes folks happy.” He nodded at the Altmer standing near the counter. “If it’s food you want, ma’am, Ormil’s your man.”

With a nod of thanks to the Orsimer, I looked around at the common room. A few people sat scattered around the room. A couple of men sat hunched over ale at a table that wrapped around the base of a - is that a mast? - wooden pillar at the center.

Spotting an empty table at the far side of the room, I limped past the two men and chose a chair that backed to the wall. Once seated, I could see the whole room. The Altmer - Ormil, - walked up to me. “Hello, Julian of Anvil,” he greeted me. “I overheard your conversation with Graman. I’m Ormil. Welcome to the Bloated Float.” He smiled down at me, pride in his eyes and friendliness in his voice. “She’s the finest inn on the water in all Cyrodiil. Tell me what you’d like!”

“Whatever’s good, sir,” I answered, adjusting the katana at my side to clear the chair. “And I would like water with that, please.” Ormil nodded at me and stepped away. He returned a few moments later with a platter of grilled slaughterfish, tomatoes stuffed with cheese and breadcrumbs, and a stein of cool, clear liquid. He waited until I took a bite, and smiled again when I rolled my eyes in appreciation.

More patrons entered the inn, some calling for ale, others seating themselves around the room. Ormil moved away to take care of their requests, leaving me alone with a delicious repast.

So it looks like Stella Julian might be getting her groove back with a studly young pirate? rawr!

Who was this Jared I wonder? I suspect not the dweeb from the Subway commercials. Ahh, this must be a pic of him.

I limped to the door in time to see his broad back disappear into the fog on Dareloth Way.
This struck me as an especially vivid image.

This was a fun weaving of things in the game into Julian's story. Armand, the singing pirate, the Bloated Float characters. Very well done. I've always liked the characters of the WF (except the pirates).

So, Julian has some hormones after all, I'm pleased to see. Now, if we can just get her shopping for some wardrobe updates. Those cowhide shoes are just so second era!

Oooh, and a mystery about a lost love named Jared?

I love reading Julian's story, because you usually feed my a yummy meal - this time was no exception.

Now tell me that Paint is in Weye under the care of Julian's retired fisherfriend, and not under the watchfully hungry eye of the orc that runs the IC stables? Or perhaps Julian will bring him out to the WF island? Just jokin' with ya.

“Oh, I’ll see you again, yes I’ll see you again, sweet lady of Anvil so fine!”
My sentiments exactly.

I see Julian still knows how to flirt...and enjoy flirting. Yay!!!

Poor Julian . . . the lifted chin was perfect, the twirl on the left heel billowed the skirt nicely, but the limp just killed the impression that she was trying to make (damn war injuries). At least the young pirate kept singing!

I just love this sentence! Everything we need to know about Julian is encompassed in just these few words, and in these simple actions we as readers can feel the weight of the road and her travels easing as Julian sets down her tools and finally finds rest in a place that is hers alone. Brilliant!

Another good bit of development. You show the waterfront well, it's seedy enough but not particularly bad (for those who live there and don't ask the wrong questions at least). I hadn't thought of Armand being her neighbour, I wonder how long it will take for her to work out his profession - at least she should be safe from theft down there...

The singing Pirate was clever, I'd never thought he might be singing at the PC...

@SubRosa: Ah, well, that young pirate’s a bit, you know, young. And no, Jared is this. Okay, I’m just kidding. For us Mac users, this is Jared.

@Acadian: Wardrobe updates are far in the future (like, about Chapter 19), though she’ll upgrade those shoes for what she considers “civvies” a bit sooner. I’m glad you liked the meal in the Bloated Float. Not all inns provide such good fare, as we will learn eventually. Not to worry, Paint is safely in Weye with his fisherman friend.

@Foxy: Flirting is a forgotten art for Julian - it’s been so long. The Legion isn’t exactly conducive to flirtation, ya know (though I admit it is possible). Still, it’s flattering to have that handsome bare-chested Redguard sing that song to her!

@Destri: Yes, that failed impression was exactly what I wanted to convey. I continue to be surprised by what you pick up, this time Julian’s methodical approach to keeping her life as organized as possible.

@Olen: That singing pirate will sing at the PC if the PC is a woman! Think about it, the Dunmer first mate will sing to the PC if the PC is a man, too! At least, that’s the way I like to see it. I never found the Waterfront particularly dangerous - I think Cheydinhal is a bit riskier with the Orum gang there making casual threats if you try to talk to them.

Julian meets a couple of the locals and learns more about the Waterfront.

******************
Chapter 12.2 Dinner Company

A female Bosmer paused across the table from me, glancing askance at me as she gestured towards the opposite chair. My mouth full, I hastily waved for her to take it, if she wanted.

She sat down, her sad eyes avoiding mine, as Ormil placed a stein full of foaming ale in front of her. Swallowing my food, I looked at her. “Hello, I’m Julian, from Anvil,” I introduced myself. “I just bought a house here in the Waterfront.”

“I’m Adanrel,” she responded, regarding me for a moment. “Old Tormund’s house?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “You knew him?”

“Tormund passed away a year or so ago,” Adanrel sighed, taking a sip of her ale, then wiping away the foam from her upper lip. “He was kind to us, though he’d been down, just like the rest of us.”

“Down?” I asked her. “How do you mean?”

“Oh, we can’t do the dungeons like you adventurers. We got no money, and no skills. Nobody wants us.” Now I understood her sadness.

“Hello,” a blond Imperial woman came to our table. “Mind if I join you?”

“Sure, Praxedes,” Adanrel replied, with a glance at me. “This is Julian from Anvil, she just bought old Tormund’s house.”

“You did, did you?” the Imperial woman said. “Welcome to the Imperial City! I’m Praxedes Afranius.” She barely looked at Ormil as a glass of wine appeared in front of her. “Did you hear?” she addressed both of us. “Good news from Kvatch for a change! The last of the daedra have been driven out!’

“Good to hear,” Adanrel responded, the sadness still evident in her voice.

Praxedes looked at me. “What do you think, Julian?”

She had caught me with a mouth full of food. I swallowed, washing it down with a sip of water. “I think it’s good that daedra can be defeated,” I said finally. “Though I hear they are nasty, vicious creatures.” So far no one’s called me Hero of Kvatch. I don’t want to hear that here, not in the slums.

“They say,” Praxedes volunteered, taking a sip of her wine, “that King Helseth has made an alliance with House Dres. Together they pick apart the carcass of ruined Indoril.”

“Really?” I said, catching Adanrel’s sidelong glance at me. “It’s not surprising, considering Morrowind’s violent past. We can only hope the troubles subside quickly.” The Bosmer’s expression turned thoughtful as she regarded me.

I let the Imperial chatter on while I finished the rest of my meal. Ormil stopped by long enough to clear away the empty dishes, and to refill my glass and Adanrel’s stein. After about thirty minutes, Praxedes said good night to us, and left. Adanrel eyed me thoughtfully over the rim of her mug.

“I’m sorry, Praxedes does go on and on,” Adanrel said quietly. I shrugged.

“Less work for me,” I answered. The Bosmer stared at me, then chuckled softly.

“I never thought of it that way,” she said. “I hope you like it here in the Waterfront.”

“I hope so, too,” I met her gaze. “I’ve never owned a house before.” Shrugging, I finished the last of the water. “Haven’t stayed in one place long enough to even think about it.”

“Do you plan to stay here long?” Adanrel asked. Again, I shrugged.

“Let’s see how things play out,” I replied. “I’ve got to travel south, but it’s nice to have a place to rest, to work on my alchemy, to get some reading done.”

“Alchemy?” Adanrel’s ears pricked at my comment. “You mean, like healing potions and the like?”

“My mother was an alchemist,” I said. “I’m hoping to follow in her footsteps, though she’s been gone these many years, and I’m regretting never having learned the art from her.” I shook my head. “I’ve got a lot of learning to do.” I met her gaze. “Hence the reading,” I added, somewhat dryly. Adanrel chuckled again.

“When you get good at making healing potions, let me know,” she said. “I’ll buy some from you!”

I considered her for a few moments. For how much? We’ll have to see. “I will,” I answered, rising to my feet. “It was nice to have your company, Adanrel,” I looked down at her. “I hope to see you again. Until then, take care.”

“You too,” she said, her eyes growing sad again. I wondered at the real source of her sadness.

“It was kind of you to keep Adanrel company,” Ormil said quietly as I passed him. “She’s been disconsolate since her brother died in a pirate attack three years ago.”

“Pirates?” I repeated, thinking of the Blackguard who had flirted so shamelessly with me. “Not those -”

Ormil shrugged. “Maybe. It happened down near Bravil. We don’t know which pirate ship it was.” He shook his head. “The Marie Elena, that’s the galleon that’s anchored here now, is new to us, but she isn’t new, if you catch my drift.”

If this pirate crew is guilty of more than just capturing ships and cargo, why is the Imperial Watch letting them anchor so brazenly here? My mind whirled through several options, none of which appealed to me. I will have to tread carefully here.

I glanced back at the small Bosmer, slumped over her ale. “This is for her,” I said, slipping a couple of drakes into his palm. “Ale’s a poor medicine, but it’s better than nothing.” I looked at her again, then added a couple more. “See if you can get some food on those bones of hers.”

“If she asks, shall I tell her who’s paying?” Ormil whispered to me.

“Wait until I’m gone,” I answered. He nodded as I headed for the door.

Back out in the dark night, I inhaled deeply. Is this where my place is to be? Among the poor and downtrodden, making potions to help them heal? Something about the thought pulled at my heart. It is what my mother did, all those years ago. I never understood it, not until I became pilus prior. And now, it’s an idea that I find appealing. A place to settle down, a place to belong, a place where I could truly help people.

Limping along the harbor, I soon reached the avenue leading from the tunnel, just as a Watch Captain ascended the stone steps. His handsome face looked up at me as I glanced at him.

“Hail, Hero of Kvatch!” he called. Stopping, I waved my hands at him to shush him.

“Please, none of that here, sir,” I whispered to him as he paused beside me, his burnished mithril armor gleaming in the light of the double moons. I recognized him as Hieronymus Lex, the Watch Captain for the Temple and Waterfront Districts, from the descriptions I had heard of him in the Bloated Float. “I just want to be known as Julian from Anvil.”

“Why?” Lex asked, but he lowered his voice to match mine. “After all, you are a hero.”

“No, just a soldier, like you,” I answered. “You would have done the same thing, if you had been there.”

Apparently I hit the right note with the Captain, for he nodded thoughtfully to himself. “And I wouldn’t be so modest about it, either,” he admitted. He met my gaze. “Ah, to each his and her own. As you wish, Julian of Anvil.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said. “And good night.” His perfect teeth gleamed in the moonlight as he turned east, towards the Bloated Float. I continued westward, following the arc of the harbor wall back towards the northern end of the isle.

As I drew near the pirate ship, I spotted a lean Dunmer woman, in an embroidered green shirt, leather pants and high boots, standing guard. I moved to avoid her, but she approached me.

“I saw you talking to one of my men earlier,” her voice was neutral. I paused, looking at her. She carried herself with the air of an experienced swordswoman, her left hand resting on the hilt of a cutlass.

“Oh, the Blackguard,” I recalled the bare-chested scoundrel who had flirted with me earlier. “What about him, muthsera?”

The Dunmer’s red eyes narrowed at me. “Don’t think you stand a chance with him,” she warned me. I felt my brows rising up my forehead.

“Never, in a thousand years,” I responded, lowering my voice. “That one’s quite the handsome devil, and he knows it too. I’m quite familiar with the type.” I glanced past her shoulder at the galleon. “And are you and your crew with that ship?”

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” the Dunmer’s voice purred with pride. “The Marie Elena. Damn fine ship, with a damn fine crew. I should know, I’m her first mate. Malvulis is my name.” Now she scowled at me. “So believe me when I tell you we don’t like it when people snoop around in our affairs. You get near that ship, and my men will run you through.”

“Muthsera,” I held up my hands, palms outwards, “the last thing I want is to tangle with a tough looking crew like yours. I’m not interested in your ship, other than to admire her looks. She’s a beautiful galleon, true,” I took a step back, “but I’m interested only in finding some peace and quiet.”

I turned partly away from her, keeping my gaze steady on hers, to point at the tall port buildings behind me, and the staircase that punctured its immensity. “I just bought a house there, and we will probably see a lot of each other. I’d prefer it if we left each other alone.” As her posture relaxed, I smiled at her. “Though I wouldn’t mind if your Blackguard sings that charming song to me again.”

Her own white teeth flashed in her dark blue face as Malvulis laughed. Just as quickly, her humor disappeared. “Just remember, he means nothing by it.”

“He’s much too young for my taste,” I responded. “Good night, muthsera.” The muscles in my back tightening, I turned from her and limped to the stairs. Malvulis did not follow me, nor did she speak to me, though I heard her scoff. I relaxed only when I had crossed through to the other side of the harbor-front buildings, out of sight of the Marie Elena.

I had expected her to attack me, but apparently the Dunmer woman was much, much smarter than that, for to do so would certainly bring the Watch down on her and her crew. They didn’t stand much chance against the plate armor of the Watch guards, themselves having no armor at all.

Try stepping on the pirate ship...


As they found when I stepped on board when Lex was walking by.

A nice, quiet piece that introduces us to many of Julian's newfound neighbors. I wonder how long it will take Julian to discover that Praxedes is sleeping with Armand Christophe (she spends a couple of nights at his shack every week). Her meeting with Adanrel underscores that the Waterfront is indeed a slum, filled with people who have no hope and no future. Malvius bares her teeth, revealing her to be quite the Great White. Is it just me, or is there a strong undercurrent to her threats that make me think she has more than just a fondness for that particular Blackguard of Julian's?


This is what really catches my eye from the entire segment. Here we see another tantalizing glimpse of Julian's family history, and possibly where her own future lies.


Edited to add: Acadian's comment got me thinking about Adanrel. Rather than her brother being killed by bandits (seriously, was anyone's sibling/spouse not killed by bandits?), how about change it to be being killed by the Imperial Watch? Or thrown in prison? Given this is the Waterfront, the supposed den of thieves itself, it would really bring home the darkness of the city's dark underbelly.

The Waterfront and its people - nicely captured. You did a great job weaving in so much 'in game' dialogue here. Very fun to read, given the images it conjures.

Lex, with his perfect teeth. Priceless!

In what could have easily developed into a cat fight, Julian once again shows her maturity and wisdom as she deals with the first mate of the Marie Elena.

Wonderful job fleshing out some history on Julian's house and the sad Adanrel.

More worldbuilding and nicely done. You make the waterfront a living breathing place and give it's inhabitants real personalities. I suspect we'll be seeing more of all of them unless I'm mistaken.


Brilliant line.

You caught the slightly wierd behaviour of Malvulis well, she's agressive but too afraid to attack (until you get on the boat when they all go insane). It's a miricle they don't get investigated if she threatens everyone like that - it's not even like they have anything interesting to hide.

I agree that Lex's perfect teeth are priceless, you already know the sort of character he is from that.

My only mild criticism would be that while weaving in the game dialogue was cleverly done it would have been nice to see it expanded so as not to change subject so wildly and quickly.

@SubRosa: I’ve always thought of Malvulis as being very possessive of all her pirates (and the ship as well). Sometimes I wonder how she gets along with the captain! Now you’ve got me thinking about Adanrel’s brother. What is the real tragedy here? I’m going to go back and make a small adjustment to that tidbit that will tie it better into future events on the Waterfront.

@Acadian: I’m glad you enjoyed Julian’s experiences in the Waterfront and meeting up with some of its denizens.

@Olen: I always thought Malvulis strange. I’m glad you agree that Lex’s perfect teeth are a reflection of the man. As for expanding on the in-game dialogue, it would lead to the chapter being twice as long, and Julian will never get that Daedric artifact!

A little more world-building before Julian hits the road again.

****************
Chapter 12.3 Settling In

I woke before dawn, to a dying fire. Stepping outside, I headed to the harbor-front, where Christophe had told me the woodcutter’s shop was located. As he had said, I found it located in the north end of the harbor-front, across from the Marie Elena. Inside, I found a Breton woman, worn features showing years of hard work, working on a ledger.

“Hello, ma’am,” I greeted her when she squinted up at me. She brushed a stray lock of grey hair behind one ear.

“What can I do for you, ma’am?” she answered.

“I’m Julian of Anvil, I need wood for my fire,” I said. “I just bought old Tormund’s house.”

“Ah, yes, that shack at the end of Dareloth Way,” the woman responded. “I’m Muriel Perielle. I can get a load to you today, for forty drakes.”

“How about in the next hour or so?” I asked. “I’ll pay fifty.”

“Done,” Perielle responded quickly. “And we’ll keep it stocked, as long as you pay in advance.”

“Understood,” I responded. “Do I need to be home to receive the delivery?”

“No, we’ll stack it against your house,” Perielle shook her head.

“All right, I’ll go for breakfast, then,” I said. “Thanks.”

After breakfast at the Bloated Float, I found the woodpile at the side of the house. First, I brought wood to Christophe’s house to replace the the logs he had given me last night. Back in my house, I got the fire going again. My pack dumped out on the bed, I gathered the alchemy equipment I had assembled in my travels - the mortar and pestle, the retort, the calcinator, and the alembic. I laid them out on the table, along with The Fundaments of Alchemy. Then I sorted out my ingredients, surprised at how much I had already collected.

I saw again the strange root I had found on the north shore of City Isle. It no longer glowed or chimed, but I still found its soft texture fascinating. I put it aside.

A review of the first chapter of the Fundaments taught me the effects of the different alchemical equipment. I realized that any potions or poisons I made would be more potent with the additional equipment.

I took some of the lady’s smock leaves and cairn bolete, grinding them first, then rendering them over the fire in the retort, calcinator and alembic. The resulting mixture barely covered the bottom of the glass vial. Swirling it thoughtfully, I poured it into the palm of my hand, then licked it off. Promptly I felt a warmth suffuse through my body from my belly, and the normal aches and pains of every morning disappeared. Restore health, I thought to myself, remembering a page from Sigrid’s little book.

I spent the next couple of hours seated on the floor by the fireplace, my equipment and ingredients spread around me, referring to the Pocket Guide for effects. I made different combinations, tried them on myself to test their effectiveness. Some made me sick, but most improved my health, magicka, or strength. I made notes in the margins of Sigrid’s volume.

Finally weary, I stopped and looked at my collection of potions. Cure Poison, Damage Health, Restore Health, I mused to myself. Paralysis. Hmm, that could be useful, if only it would last longer. Still, it could give me an edge against a stronger enemy.

I put the paralyzing poisons and the poison cures aside, for my own use. The other substances I had created I placed in my belt pouch.

Sell these potions, try to raise some money for furnishings for my house. I knew I wanted some storage in the house, at least. A place to keep my alchemical equipment would be nice.

******************
I headed to the Green Emperor Way, and limped around the White Gold Tower, avoiding the Imperial Palace Guards. It was late afternoon by the time I reached the Market District. Outside Phintias’s First Edition, I looked across the street at the shop directly opposite. The Copious Coinpurse. I decided to try that one and see what the merchant within knew about bartering.

Inside, I found a wide assortment of items, from a striking patterned rug on the floor to a staggering display of clothing of all kinds and colors. Behind the counter, a Bosmer looked up at me, his expression brightening as I walked across the store.

“Hi! I’m Thoronir! What kind of deal can I make for you today?” he asked eagerly. “I have the best prices in town! Why? Because I’m smart, and you’re smart. We know the right people, we get the best deals.”

I found him an easier haggle than Calindil, and soon sold off my potions for a good amount of septims. My purse now heavier, I left the smiling Bosmer and headed across the District towards The Three Brothers Trade and Goods.

Inside, I found more household items and fewer clothes. An Imperial man greeted me from the rear of the store. “Tertullian, Sergius, and Cicero, the three Verus Brothers. I’m Sergius.”

“And I’m Julian, from Anvil,” I answered. “I just bought a house, and Vinicia Melissaeia recommended you for the furnishings.”

“She did, then?” Sergius smiled, his face warming at me. “How is the old girl?”

I considered his question for a moment. “Stressed,” I answered. The shopkeeper’s smile widened into a grin.

“I swear she complains more than the folks who see her!” he exclaimed. “But she recommended me for your house, so let’s see what I can do for you!” He stepped to a nearby lectern, opening it and taking out a sheaf of parchment. “Which house did you buy?”

“A small house in the Waterfront District,” I said. Verus’s face fell slightly.

“Oh, the hovel,” his tone cooled a bit. “Well,” he looked down at the parchment in his hands, and sorted through them. He set aside a small stack, and placed the rest back into the lectern. “This is what I have for you,” he continued, picking up the small stack and riffling through them, reading off each one, “a dining set, a kitchen set, a sitting group, a storage set, and wall hangings to decorate the house. They’re seven septims and thirty-two drakes each.”

Seven and thirty-two! I only have a thousand drakes or so! I swallowed against my dry mouth. “I’ll give you six septims and sixty-eight for the storage set,” I replied. Verus frowned at me, but pulled one of the parchments from his hand and gave it to me. I counted out the agreed amount onto the table between us and thanked him.

“For an additional fifty drakes, I’ll have it sent down to your place right away,” he said, sweeping the coins off the table. “You can have the set by sundown.”

Seven and eighteen. Still less than the original price. “Should I be there, then?” I asked him. He looked up at me, his brown eyes assessing my frame.

“If you want the boys to place it for you,” he answered. “Otherwise, they’ll leave the chests outside your door, and you’ll have to move them in yourself.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said. “I’ll head down right away.”

“I appreciate your business, Julian,” Verus’s tone indicated otherwise, but I decided to not let that bother me.

“I look forward to doing more business with you,” I said to him. “After all, I’ve got a house to furnish!”

*****************
True to Verus’s word, a knock came at my door just a couple of hours later. Three hulking Argonians waited outside, each carrying a blanket-wrapped item on his back.

“Julian of Anvil?” the leader hissed at me. At my nod, he shifted the heavy package on his shoulders. “Your order iss here,” he explained.

“Of course,” I stepped back to let them in. “What are you carrying?”

“I’ve got a chesst of drawerss,” the Argonian replied. “Sso doess Red Clawss,” he nodded at another Argonian, only slightly smaller than himself. “And Blue-Tongue hass a chesst,” he indicated the smallest Argonian.

They shifted their feet, waiting for me to direct them. “I’d like the two drawers here in the corner,” I indicated the open space just past the foot of the bed, “facing each other.” As the two big porters moved to the corner, I looked at the third Argonian. “And Blue-Tongue, if you can put that chest over here,” I indicated the wall on the other side of the fireplace, “that would be fine.”

A few moments later, my new furniture stood in place, unwrapped and ready for use. I looked at the leader. “Your name is, please, sir?”

“I am Word-Sslayer,” he answered. He grinned toothily at me. “On account of my ssinging sskillss.”

Staring at him blankly, I tried to imagine that hissing voice raised in song. Suddenly I understood the irony. “Oh, of course,” I said. “Thank you very much, Word-Slayer,” I slipped three drakes into his hand, “Red-Claws, and Blue-Tongue,” I did the same for each. All three of them blinked at the shining coins in their palms, then nodded happily at me.

“It wass our pleassure, ma’am,” Word-Slayer said warmly, as the other two murmured similar sentiments. They turned and left, Blue-Tongue closing the door softly behind them.

It took me about thirty minutes to put all my gear away. The books, keys and the deed went into one dresser, my clothes into the other dresser, and my alchemy equipment and other assorted items into the chest. I set my weapons in the corner.

Seated on the bed with my armor, I spent the next hour oiling cuirass and greaves, restoring the suppleness that gra-Sharob had worked so hard to instill into the leather. After that, I sharpened and conditioned my katana, as well as Daedra Slayer. I checked my arrows, examining the fletching to make sure none were worn or broken, and eyeing each shaft. I discovered a couple which had become warped, and set them aside. Then it was the bow’s turn to get oiled. I also checked my bowstrings, finding them still good, and packed them away in my pack.

Next I stripped out of my skirt and the stitched green shirt Belisarius had given me. I hung the shirt beside the fireplace to air out, and draped my tan skirt over the foot of the bed. Crawling under the covers, I was soon asleep.

Pirates killed Adanrel's brother. Now that is more interesting, and it makes me suspect that Julian might be seeing more of the Marie Elena's crew than I had first imagined.

Some made me sick
Shades of Rales here!

So Julian is moving in and getting comfortable. Plus she is finally experimenting with alchemy a bit. This is a nice diversion from the grind of the main quest, as it gives us Julian some time to develop a personal life. It is interesting to see what that will come out to be when things are over and done with. Alchemist to the poor? Pirate-hunter?

nits:
and limped around the White Gold Palace
Not really a nit, just something that caught my eye. Usually it is either The Imperial Palace, or White Gold Tower. I am not sure if you wanted one of those, or combined them on purpose.

I thoroughly enjoyed spending this ordinary day with Julian as she settles into her new home, dealing with all the things that are necessary. I know she has a task ahead and will return to the road, but you can regale us with these wonderful 'daily life' chapters as often as you like. I, for one, am glad you did.


Wonderful touches as she explores the world of alchemy. Likewise, it was great to see Thoronir and Sergius. I also thoroughly enjoyed the depth you so efficiently infused into the three Argoniansss that delivered her furniture.


Not a nit; rather just a tiny considertion: The use of 'gathered' in such close proximity caused me just a touch of pause. Would you have preferred something like? '…I gathered the alchemy equipment I had assembled during my travels - …'

I too feel that this mundane section has added a great deal to Julian's character it may otherwise have been hard to show and has also been refreshingly different from the hacking and slashing inherant in the MQ. You caught the sort of fun feel of moving into a new place anyway. Just wait until those alchemy skills get better and she buys a place in Anvil... Then she'll get the less fun of moving out.

The alchemy practise was fun too, I agree with SubRosa about the similarity to Rales.


Is that some chemistry experieance talking...

Chapter 12.2 Dinner Company

Interesting take on Malvulis, I guess her overprotective nature extends to the crew as well as to the ship. I have always had the sneaking suspicion that she and Captain Tussaud are more than just colleagues, but I couldn’t tell you where that comes from. Maybe it’s just the fact that Tussaud made a Dunmer woman his first mate. It says something about his character that he is willing to go against convention like that and give the job to the one most qualified for it. Though it does have some real world correlation, many of the ‘officers’ (and even some of the captains) of the ships that terrorized the Caribbean during the age of piracy were escaped African slaves. Historically speaking a pirate ship was one of the best examples of meritocracy at work.

I have always wondered what prompted someone to petition the Dark Brotherhood to have Tussaud murdered on his ship, in front of his crew. I actually have a rough draft of a short story written about that very thing.

Chapter 12.3 Settling in

Julian’s inherited fascination with alchemy is contagious. It made me want to fire up the PS3 and brew a few potions of my own.

I could just see Verus’ face when he said ‘oh, the hovel.” And ‘Word-Sslayer’ was hilarious! I loved this chapter!

Indeed. IRL pirates elected their captain, and unelected them if they were not happy with the leadership. Not to mention they sailed under ships articles that actually gave the crew rights. It is ironic, and actually very sad, that conditions aboard a pirate ship were much better than they were on a regular one.

A most relaxing chapter.

I couldn't help smiling at this:


@SubRosa: Unelect.... yeah... that's one way to put it

I love your writing when you choose to branch off the beaten path. It allows so much room for character exploration. The alchemy lesson was great fun (not for Julian though!) and the house buying and haggling skills of Julian were sublime!


What, only thirty minutes?? Not possible! A woman?? No way!!

@SubRosa: Thanks for the nit - it’s been fixed. Alchemist to the poor, pirate hunter, who knows what Julian will end up doing when all is said and done? I’m sure yet another career will be suggested in upcoming chapters.

@Acadian: Thanks for your nit - it has been fixed as well. I had fun exploring the practical aspects of life on the Waterfront - such as where do you get the wood for your fireplace? What to eat when you don’t yet have a kitchen (though Julian will use her kitchen set for the IC shack for her alchemy equipment - with the Bloated Float so near, why cook)? Who takes care of your gear if you don’t? I’m glad you enjoyed her couple of days on the Waterfront.

@Olen: Who said anything about buying a place in Anvil? Or anywhere else, for that matter? As for the alchemy mixture, yes, that was Analytical Chemistry speaking! It’s amazing what you end up with when you distill something from raw into pure form. Kind of like reducing a wine sauce down to a thick substance that coats your steak so lusciously! Yum!

@Destri: Aye, you have it correct - pirate ships were the first real meritocracy. Only flaw in that plan, when the plunder gets light, instead of riding it out, the crew often makes the erstwhile cap’n walk the plank and pick a new one. There have been several historical books on the subject: Under the Black Flag: The Romance and Reality of Life Among the Pirates (David Cordingly) is one of the better books I’ve read on the subject. Yes, the name ‘Word-Sslayer’ was an all-too uncommon stroke of genius.

@Remko: Thanks, I’m glad you enjoyed Julian’s experiments with alchemy. I had already written this scene (first draft) when I read of Rales’s own explorations. Great minds think alike all too often.

@Wolf: I’m glad you enjoyed this brief foray off the beaten path. I had fun writing this interlude between segments of the MQ. Can’t believe Julian only took thirty minutes to put her gear away? Let’s see, she has one outfit (skirt and shirt), one pair of shoes, a few books, a bunch of alchemical ingredients, two swords (one enchanted), one bow, one quiver of arrows, a dagger, a leather cuirass, leather greaves, and leather boots. Honestly, how long does it take to put that away? She took longer than I would have!

On the road again, Julian unconsciously forms a new habit. Sorry, Acadian, no filling meal this time.

****************
Chapter 12.4 A New Habit

The sun was halfway toward the zenith when we passed Pell’s Gate. From my hours of studying the map, I knew that the Red Ring Road followed the shore of Lake Rumare, more or less, while the other roads radiated off of it. The road I wanted, the Green Road, left the Red Ring Road southwards, just east of the settlement we had passed. Paint stopped at the fork, letting me scan the countryside. The Green Road ran up a hill into heavy woods to the south. Turning Paint onto the right fork, I let him pick his pace up the hill. While he didn’t exactly amble, he walked at a brisk but still cautious pace, his head up and ears tipped forward towards the road ahead. His attitude told me that no danger was near.

As we crested the hill, I spotted the distinctive red-and-black clouds that signaled the presence of an Oblivion Gate ahead. Paint slowed down as we started down the other side of the hill. Halfway down the slope, I could see the fiery lens of the Gate, set back from the road where it curved first west, then back south in a lazy S-curve. At the bottom of the hill, bare meters away from the Gate, a doe paced restlessly on the paving stones with an air of confusion.

The roaring of the Gate increased in volume as we reached the bottom of the slope. It stood about six meters away from the road, turning the entire world around it a hot, burning red. The doe alerted at us and fled west, away from the Gate. We continued along the road as I kept my shield toward the Gate against any flares. Paint marched along, his head up and looking to both sides of the road and ahead. I could feel his strong back rounding up beneath me, gathering his muscles in case he needed to bolt.

Nothing stirred around the Gate as we continued on, and I rubbed Paint’s mane slowly with my right hand. He eased down a little, but still continued to watch our surroundings, his ears flicking back and forth, alternating between pinning back flat against his neck, and pointing up to the sides and forward.

Passing the Gate without incident, we continued down the road until we reached a ramshackle inn on the other side of the Gate. I looked at the sign - Inn of Ill Omen. I stopped Paint before it and dismounted, dropping the reins to the ground in a signal for him to stand quietly.

Within the inn, I heard the shuffling of feet before my eyes adjusted to the dimness and saw the two figures within.

“Hello stranger,” a woman’s voice reached me first. “We don’t see many visitors around here.” I turned to see an older Redguard woman, grey hair pulled back into a bun, a large stein in her hand. She swayed slightly, then sat down in a chair behind her. The stein clumped a little heavily on the table, sloshing some of its ale. “Makes things pretty lonely for me, if you know what I mean,” she finished, her speech slurred.

“Not much company here?” I asked her.

“The only people that stay here are stragglers on the Green Road.” The woman took a swig of her ale, then wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “Me, I’ve got no place else to be. Besides,” she paused, took another swallow from her stein, “I think Mannheim is sweet on me.”

“Mannheim?” I repeated. In answer, the Redguard pointed towards a tall Nord man at the innkeeper’s counter. As I followed her gesture, I heard a thump behind me. I looked back to see she had slumped face down on the table.

I walked to the counter. The Nord -Mannheim- greeted me. “Well, I’ll be a spotted snow bear! A customer!”

I smiled at his turn of phrase. “I’ve actually seen one of those,” I commented, as I set the Kvatch Wolf down, leaning it against the counter. I sat on a stool. “I’d like some lunch, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure!” The Nord turned to the fire behind him, spooning a thin soup into a bowl and placing it in front of me. “What to drink?” he asked.

“Water?” I asked, sampling the soup. I barely managed to rid my face of the grimace before he turned back to me with a tumbler of water. Too salty, and something else is off. I took a swallow of the lukewarm water, washing the last of the rancid taste out of my mouth.

“Ill Omen?” I asked, pointing behind me out the door.

“It’s a horrible name for an inn, I know. But I just can’t bring myself to change it. Besides, I like the sign.” He smiled at me. “Mannheim Maulhand, at your service ma’am. I like Minerva fine,” he waved at the unconscious woman, “but it’s good to have a new face here!”

I managed to choke down a couple more swallows of the soup. “How’s business these days?” I asked him, thinking of the Oblivion Gate just up the hill behind the inn. Maulhand frowned at me.

“Not so good,” he answered. “Only Minerva and Kaeso Marsias, the forester. Even less now that that damn Gate has opened up behind us. Marsias has already tangled with some of the daedra that came out of that place.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what will happen to us if he gets killed!”

I met the Nord’s open gaze. “Are there any other Legion soldiers around here?”

Maulhand shook his head vigorously. “No, Kaeso’s the only one we’ve got. He did send a request for reinforcements, but so far nothing!” I considered his words, not liking the idea of one man against swarming daedra.

I managed to down the last of the fetid soup without gagging. After a long draught of the water, I looked at Maulhand. The soup sat heavily in my stomach, but stayed down, thanks to the water.

“I have a horse, sir,” I said to him. “I’ll be gone for a short bit, would you mind keeping an eye on him, and making sure he has some water?” I put a drake on the counter.

“Oh, certainly!” Maulhand nodded vigorously. “What’s his name?”

“Paint,” I answered. Maulhand grinned good-humoredly, already reaching for a bucket next to the fire.

I went out, and Paint pricked his ears at me. “No, you stay here,” I said to him, whispering into his trim ear. “I’ve got to go take care of that Gate. I’ll be back.”

With a glance at the Wolf in my left hand, I whispered a prayer to Talos and Akatosh. Behind the inn, I started up the slope, angling just to the south of the Gate, trying to reconnoiter the area. I circled the Gate and made my approach from uphill, spotting several scamps and avoiding their flares. It became clear to me that after throwing a few flares, they seemed to run out of Magicka, for they would attack with their claws. I just had to keep from being swarmed by them. Finally, I cleared the area, and turned toward the Gate.

Walking up to that fire tested my resolve. I hated doing it, but I liked the idea of the lone forester facing wave after wave of daedra invaders even less. Matius had managed to do so, but he had more men. I couldn’t continue down the road, knowing my Legion brother had to fend for himself alone.

I reached out to that inferno, and was sucked into it . . .