Benzene.

Exactly!

Thanks, Boxee!

@SubRosa: Thanks for your observations. Six Million Septim Woman indeed!

@Winter Wolf: Glad to see you back! Keep limping along, Julian's always glad to have your company. Thanks for the comment on my avatar.

@Olen: Like most women (including myself), Julian knows some occasions call for feminine clothing, other occasions call for more workmanlike attire. Obviously she isn't planning on fighting. Nice thing about the full skirts, though, is that a women can grab a chunk of hem and tuck it into her belt. Men like it when she does that, as they get to check out her gams.

@Boxee: Thanks for the link concerning the ouroboros in Organic (Orgasmic) Chem.

Finally Julian gets to check out the city she can see from Cloud Ruler Temple.

******************
Chapter 10.2 Bruma

After some consideration, I decided to take my katana and find a smith to repair it. I wouldn’t be a Legion soldier if I didn’t keep the blade keen. I also took the pack, laden with the potions, gems, jewelry and scrolls I had collected in my travels. People in Bruma, especially the Nords, may be more forthcoming with me if I appear to be an friendly old trader rather than an armed fighter. Besides, if Burd is as Captain Steffan says, his guardsmen will be enough protection.

My knee felt good today, and my hip hadn’t been bothering me for a few days, so I decided to walk to Bruma. Paint certainly deserves a day off. Before I left Cloud Ruler Temple, though, I visited him first and shared an apple with him.

At the North Gate, I found the gates closed against that cold north wind at my back. I put my hand on the heavy ring secured to the left hand panel at shoulder height and pushed experimentally. The reinforced wooden door swung ponderously open with a loud groaning. A guardsman stationed within, his Imperial face boyish beneath an iron helm, turned to look at me. Taking in my appearance, he sprang to assist my entry. Once inside, I helped him close the gate against the biting wind.

Pausing to look around, I took in the sturdy log and stone construction of the buildings that made up Bruma. Perched on a steep slope, the structures made up rows on three terraces. To my right, the castle loomed at the top of the slope in the northwest corner of the city wall. Snow, cleared off the cobblestones, lay piled high on either side of the streets. A large brazier burned near the guard post, and a tall bell steeple showed above the peaked roofs off to the south.

I thanked the guard. “Protect and serve, it’s what we do, ma’am,” he responded somberly, but I could see he was pleased by my courtesy. “Did you come by the western back road over the mountains?”

What road? I recalled the faint path that led west, from the North Gate. “I’m Julian,” I answered, “I came from Anvil.”

“Peter Brugels,” the young man responded. “Very few come through the North Gate, ma’am,” he continued. “Old Mrs. Draconis, from Applewatch, and sometimes a Blade from Cloud Ruler Temple.” He eyed me up and down. “Do you know Mrs. Draconis?”

“Not really,” I answered. “I just arrived in the area.”

“How in the world did you make it on that back road, ma’am?” Brugels exclaimed, his brows rising. “It’s remote, not patrolled at all, and full of beasties and bandits. Then there’s Sancre Tor -” he shuddered. “That place’s haunted!”

I shrugged. “I just kept my eyes and ears open,” I commented quietly, studying the terraced city. “So I take it you don’t get many strangers here.”

“Not so much these days, ma’am,” Brugels responded, shaking his head. “Not with these Oblivion Gates opening all over the place.”

Catching my breath, I shot Brugels a glance. “Oblivion Gates?” I repeated. Gods, no, not more of them.

“Yes, ma’am,” Brugels nodded vigorously. “Haven’t you seen one of them yet?” His eyes widened melodramatically. “In fact one opened just last night where the Orange Road meets the Silver Road, just south of here!”

I didn’t see it when I came back to Cloud Ruler Temple. I bit my lip to keep the words from coming out. “Really?” I said instead. “I’ll have to be careful, then.”

“Captain Burd would know more, ma’am,” Brugels added helpfully, pointing at the path leading up to the castle. “At this hour, he’d be in the barracks having lunch with his lieutenants.”

“I wouldn’t want to disturb him -” I began, but Brugels shook his head.

“Nay, Captain Burd’s nice enough, he won’t mind, ma’am.” Now his brown eyes turned assessing, though his face remained open. “Besides, he likes to know everyone that comes into town.”

“Well, I’d best stay on his good side, no?” I remarked. “Thanks, sir, for your help. I’ll go see Captain Burd first.”

“Bye,” he said as I limped toward the castle. The sentries posted outside the castle gate eyed me as I entered the courtyard, but did not challenge me.

Large braziers in the courtyard barely kept the chill away as I made my way to the County Hall, the heart of the castle. Within, a dark, shadowed area with sooty stones, soaring columns and heavy tapestries greeted my gaze. Stepping down onto a threadbare rug, I paused, looking around as my eyes adjusted to the dimness. A passing guard paused nearby.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asked.

“I’m looking for Captain Burd,” I answered. “Peter Brugels told me he would be in the barracks?”

“Came in the North Gate, eh?” the guard responded. He pointed to my right, indicating a colonnade running the length of the north wall. “Through the door on the right, ma’am.”

“Thanks,” I replied. Heading for the indicated door, I listened to the silence in the hall, broken only by booted footfalls as sentries changed watch. Too easy, I thought. They seem too lenient. Or would they be so lenient had I come through the East Gate, off the Silver Road? What was it Brugels said? Only Blades come in the North Gate? I shook my head regretfully. So much for being undercover.

Two bare-headed men in the yellow Bruma livery hunched over their klah as I entered the barracks. Against the far wall, other guards slept on a row of cots.

“I heard a cult called the Mythic Dawn is behind the Emperor’s assassination,” the Imperial, a war axe at his back, was speaking to his companion. He glanced up at me as I drew near. The other, his claymore-decorated back to me, caught the look and turned around. Taking in my white hair and feminine clothing, he rose to his feet - and kept rising. Damn! What is it about this place? Imperials as tall as Nords, like Captain Steffan, and now a Nord as tall as a fricking Altmer!

Looking up into his chiseled features, wind-tanned with crows-feet at the corners of his eyes, I swallowed my heart back into my chest. “Hello, ma’am,” he said, shooting a brief glare at the seated Imperial, “what can I do for you?”

As the other man rose to his feet, I took a step back. “Captain Burd, sir?” I asked the Nord.

“Aye, that’s me,” he answered, his brown gaze steady on me. “Commander of the Bruma Guard. That stripling lad,” he nodded at the Imperial, who wasn’t exactly young, “is one of my lieutenants, Gerich Senarel.”

“I’m Julian, from Anvil. I just arrived in Bruma, sir,” I began, unsure how to proceed. Jauffre hadn’t said secrecy was essential, yet discretion was key. “Peter Brugels recommended I check in with you, first.”

“Ah, yes, ma’am,” Burd nodded, grey-streaked brown hair gleaming in the lamplight. “Through the North Gate, then. How did you come to Bruma?”

“From the north, sir,” I answered, holding Burd’s gaze. His eyes narrowed.

“From -?” his voice trailed off. Shaking his head, he studied my face. “I’ve never seen you before, ma’am.”

“I was sent because there have been reports of strangers on the north road,” I took a deep breath, trying not to be too evasive. Burd’s level brows rose.

“Really?” he tilted his head at me, then looked over at Senarel. “He knows everything I know,” he continued. “You may speak freely, ma’am.”

“I’m told strangers have come to the runestone at dusk,” I continued quietly. “Not very woodscrafty from what I hear, but certainly suspicious enough to cause concern.”

“Hmm, I see,” Burd mused, rubbing at that chiseled jaw. “I’d be concerned too,” he mused. “But other than Jearl returning from a trip down south, things have been pretty quiet around here. Not much travel now between the Emperor’s assassination and Oblivion Gates opening around the country.” Though his mouth remained serious, his brown eyes twinkled at me. “The Countess has asked that the men keep an eye out, and I’ve ordered so. Until you came, I’ve had no reports of any strangers here in Bruma.”

“Well, let’s hope it stays that way,” I muttered to myself, looking around the barracks. Meeting Burd’s gaze again, “Permission to ask around myself, sir?” Again, Burd’s eyes narrowed at me. Not a stereotypical dumb Nord, this one.

“No, not at all, ma’am,” he responded. “Just remember this: I make sure my guards respect the local Nords and their ways. You would do well to do the same, Redguard.”

“Yes, sir, I will,” I answered. “Thanks for your time, sir.”

“Senarel is on his way out to the East Gate,” Burd nodded at the sturdy Imperial. “He can show you to Olav’s. That’s a good place for the local gossip.”

After all the time riding around Bruma, Julian finally goes into the city. Maybe she should have brought Paint after all? He probably would have liked the stable, since that was his birthplace as I recall.

The subdued suspicion of the gate guard was a good touch. The way that they half-expect people coming from the north gate to be Blades, because the only thing off that way is Cloud Ruler Temple and Applewatch. Also good touches on how when she mentions the name of the guard she spoke to, the others knew which gate she had come in from.

And more Oblivion Gates opening up now. I think I read in the wiki that they start doubling in frequency after you do Lake Arrius Caverns. Not that they are a threat to anything (except foolish wannabe knights who go inside them). I have seen the few daedra that aimlessly walk around them killed by wildlife on more than one occasion. It is great fun watching a mountain lion tear apart an atronach!

Good stuff, I too like the fact that the road she used half blows her cover and gets her preferential treatment from the guards, and that rather than saying she entered the north gate she simply said the guards name. It more oblique and espoinage-like, and seeing as she's meant to be a spy now she's a blade...

I look forward to seeing Bruma's other inhabitants, I never really got the city, it didn't seem to have a soul to it in game but you seem to have other ideas so I can't wait to read them. The guards discussing what's happened also lent it some more realism as we hear what the rumour mill comes up with as it lags behind events.

And as for using the ouroboros to describe benzene... well I think I'll stick with the schrodinger equation (and either some outragous simplifications or a very large computer ).

Orgasmic chem, eh. OrGasMic ChEm. ORGAS- Nah. I'd leave that kind of stuff (ahem*innuendoahem) to someone out there


Going to Cloud Ruler Temple and NOT entering Bruma? That's something you don't read everyday. I like it, and am waiting for the next update!!

Outstanding chapter this is, Hauty!!

Someone? I wonder who could that be???

Dremora: (points his claymore upwards while grinning like an idiot)

Imperial Scribe: Why are you pointing at the sky, Dhertee-Innuen?

Dhertee-Innuen: But Doe, I already told you! That 'somebody' is above us!

Doe: Above us? What are you talking about, my dremora friend? Only those who are above us is the Divines! Wait. Could it be?

Dhertee-Innuen: Yes! Your puny mortal brain finally figured it out! Enlighten my smottled brain will ya?
Doe: Is it... Dibella?

(the Dremora smacks his head in frustration and stalked towards Doe menacingly. Suddenly a Dunmer appeared out of nowhere and shouted:

Dunmer: Dhertee-Innuen, Doe! Would you two please get out of there!

And off the trio went. = =

Dhertee-Innuen and Doe... wait a minute, I think I've heard of them before.


Hmmm.... are they related to Phil thee-mine and Bor Dee H. Yumore?

Personally I think that, despite the skirt and the affected limp around the guards (nice touch, that), the hilt of Julian’s Akaviri Katana probably did more to break her cover than which gate she came through. I agree with SubRosa and Olen, the business with the gates was terrific. I wish that she had brought Paint with her, if for no other reason than that his presence would have reinforced her cover story with the guards. But I like the way that you are showing that all this cloak-and-dagger business is completely foreign to a woman whose training consists of putting the pointy end into the enemy!

*Destri swiftly changes the subject before the innuendo sinks in.*

I have no real nits to speak of, but I am curious . . . did you edit out a scene between Julian and Martin in Chapter 10.1 (where she tries to get him to rest)?

Caught up on your new chapters and I love m. The part in Bruma was really good.

@SubRosa: Of course a mountain lion can tear apart an atronach! They're quick, agile, and very bad-tempered, not to mention those powerful jaw and those nasty sharp claws. If a domestic house cat can flay the skin from his owner's arm with his dull back claws (something I've actually witnessed! ) then imagine the damage a cougar can do. Yikes! While Paint likes Wildeye Paint Stables, he likes Roliand at Cloud Ruler Temple more!

@Olen: As for Schrödinger's equation, there's always the Cat Who Walks Through Walls. Hey, that'll be a cool avatar for a science geek like me! Bruma is a place of contradictions for me - cold enough to see your breath, but cozy and warm at heart. Oh, and didn't you know that rumor travels faster than the speed of light? Of course, there's nicer, kinder, gentler agents than benzene (talk about the smell of death - benzene is worse). But I chose the ouroboros because it represents the Eureka! moment so well for me.

@ureniashtram: Thanks for the kudos! As for O.C., that was what Cornellians called it when I was there about twenty five years ago. Both science majors and non-science majors referred it to as orgasmic chem because of the block plan. We had to take a semester's worth of work in three and a half weeks. The final was on you before you had a chance to recover from the brutal mid-terms. Nine blocks through the school year. Oh, and it's not Cornell University in Ithaca, New York, it's Cornell College in Mt. Vernon, Iowa.

@D.Foxy: I think U beat you this time!

@Destri: I think you got it right - Julian is finding the cloak and dagger business pretty challenging. I guess that's why Jauffre had her go to Bruma - it's a fairly benign town to be learning that stuff in, compared to - say, Leyawiin, or Chorrol. As for Bravil, don't get me started! As for scenes edited out of Chapter 10.1, a lot has been removed, due to length. You're pretty good at picking up on that.

@Remko: Hey, good to see you again! I'm glad you're still enjoying this!

Next, Julian discovers my favorite place in all of Bruma - Olav's. Ahh, the hours I've spent in there, enjoying the drink and especially the company. I hope Julian enjoys it as much as I have (except for the drink, of course).

********************
Chapter 10.3 Local Gossip

Senarel showed me where the smithy lay, just east of the North Gate. He waited while I dickered with Fjotreid about the cost of sharpening my blade. Back outside, the lieutenant led me to Olav’s Tap and Tack before returning to his rounds.

Stepping inside the small inn, I found myself in a dimly lighted, smoky room. A few Nords looked me over, but their expressions lacked hostility. One of the men, still tall and unbent despite his advanced age, greeted me warmly. “Greetings Redguard,” he lowered the clay pipe from his mouth. “Ongar the World-Weary, they call me hereabouts. I’ve been everywhere, and done everything. Now I’m settled down for a good, long rest.”

“Here in Bruma, sir?” I asked, thinking of warmer climes for retirement.

“Aye,” Ongar tipped his head back, his blue eyes twinkling in the smoky air. “Bruma is the perfect town for a Nord man of leisure. Bracing mountain air, good food and drink, and lively Nord fellowship.” He gestured for me to sit across the table from him.

“I have to admit you make it sound appealing, sir,” I remarked, taking the indicated seat and lowering my pack to the floor. “But I prefer Anvil, myself. I’m Julian.”

Ongar pointed the stem of the pipe at me. “And yet here you are,” he said acerbically. I laughed quietly.

“You have a point, sir,” I said. “I’m new to Bruma, but not to Nord ways.”

“Really?” Ongar’s grey brows rose. “How so?”

“I spent some time in Skyrim,” I answered. “Pretty country, but a little cold for my taste.”

“Well, then this will be more your taste,” Ongar chuckled at me. “You’ve come a long way, traveler. I’m sure you are hungry and weary.”

“Hungry, certainly, sir,” I responded as my stomach growled softly.

“Olav!” Ongar shouted at another man near the fire. The innkeeper turned at the sound of his name. Handsome in a rugged way, he shot Ongar a glare. “Some hot food and spiced ale for my new friend Julian of Anvil!” Ongar ignored the other’s look.

The glare disappeared as Olav transferred his steady gaze to me. He moved to bring me a pitcher, but I held up a hand. “Water, or klah, if you have it, please,” I said.

“Of course, Julian,” Olav poured a mug from the klah pitcher hanging from a hook in the fireplace. “Food?”

“Whatever’s hot,” I said, reaching into my pouch. Olav set the mug in front of me, then returned to the fireplace. He glanced at me as he ladled some soup into a bowl.

“Cheese and potato dumpling soup,” he said proudly. Hmm, sounds good. Smells better.

“How much?” I asked.

“Three drakes,” Olav answered in a matter-of-fact manner. I laid three coins on the table. Setting the bowl before me, he picked up the coins and waited for me to take my first taste.

“Hmm, this is delicious,” I exclaimed. “Never had anything like this.”

“Not even in Anvil?” he asked. I shook my head.

“Too warm for soups and stews,” I answered. “Mostly roast meat, fish and vegetables.” I looked up in surprise as Olav set a chunk of bread next to my elbow.

The remaining Nord in the place, a beautiful woman with long blond hair framing her oval face, looked over at me from the adjacent table. “Hello,” she greeted me. “What news do you bring, Julian of Anvil?”

I thought fast. “The Dark Brotherhood isn’t responsible for the Emperor’s assassination,” I remarked. “At least, that’s what a Legion rider told me.”

“Really?” the woman commented.

“That’s Alga, bard and speechcraft trainer,” Ongar introduced her. “Honmund’s her partner.” His gaze on me was crafty. As I returned his gaze, I nearly missed Alga’s scowl.

“No offense,” she said to me, shooting Ongar a glare, “but I don’t want to hear about any ‘Mara Mother Mild’ and Chapel family business. Honmund and I live together in the old Nord way. Good enough for my Fa and Ma, good enough for me.”

I realized that she had heard enough from southerners about living with a man without the advantage of a Chapel wedding. Recalling that marriages in Skyrim were more a private agreement between the involved parties, I met Alga’s gaze squarely.

“If it’s good enough for you,” I said quietly, “it’s good enough for me.”

Alga nudged Ongar’s shoulder, making him scoot over on the bench a little. She sat down across from me, next to the old man. “You’re not like the others,” she remarked, her smile touching her brilliant blue eyes.

“What others?” I responded, spooning up more of the wonderful soup. The woman regarded me thoughtfully for several moments.

“Bruma’s a funny place,” she said finally, as I sopped up the last of the soup with the bread. “Half Cyrodiil, and half Skyrim.” She placed her left elbow on the table and propped her chin in her left palm. “Some of the southerners disapprove of us Nords,” she continued after a moment. “And some of the Nords think southerners are weaklings.”

“Hmm,” I responded, taking a sip of my klah. “And what do you think, Alga?”

“Honestly?” Alga held my gaze. “I’m not as confident in my thinking as I used to be. Take Cirroc, for example.”

“Cirroc?” I repeated.

“The chapel healer,” Ongar said, his eyes twinkling. “Redguard, like you. Only you’d think he was a Nord, the way he acts.”

“How does he act?” I smiled at Ongar.

“Like a Nord,” Ongar returned, his chuckles making me laugh in response.

“Have you traveled far today?” Alga asked me, her gaze open and curious.

“Not as far as I did yesterday,” I responded. “But I’m glad to be here for the noon meal.” My gaze on Olav’s rugged face, I popped the last of the cooling bread into my mouth. “The food is absolutely delicious.” He grinned in pleasure at my compliment.

“And you’ll be moving on soon, I suppose,” Alga remarked casually. Sensing some deeper purpose in her comments, I met her gaze.

“Not right away, I don’t think,” I indicated the pack on the bench next to me. “I’ve picked up a few things in my travels, and would like to sell them. I prefer to travel light.”

“Well, Fjotreid at the Hammer and Axe, and Olfand at Nord Winds will buy and sell weapons and armor, and Skjorta, Olfand’s woman, will buy and sell clothes.” Alga paused, waiting for a response from me. Keeping my face neutral, I waited. “And Suurootan in Novaroma will barter everything else.”

“Is that all?” I responded when she did not continue further. “Just the three shops?”

“Bruma isn’t Imperial City, that’s for certain,” Alga’s gaze turned cool.

“Hmm, could have fooled me,” I answered, finishing the last of the klah. “It’s a pretty good sized city, and the only one for kilometers around.” I met Alga’s eyes again. “You must get a lot of strangers passing through here.”

“Hmm, not lately, right Olav?” Alga turned to look at the innkeeper over her shoulder.

“No, not many since the assassination.” Olav responded, swirling the ladle in the soup kettle.

“And now with these Oblivion Gates opening up all over the place,” Alga added, “people are staying home more.”

“Except for Jearl,” Ongar pointed out. “She just got back from a trip south. Didn’t have much to say, but seemed a little smug.” He met my gaze. “She’s a Redguard, but not like you. Or Cirroc.”

“How so?” I asked, tipping my head at him. “She doesn’t act like a Nord?”

“Ach, she acts like she’s better than every one else in Bruma,” Ongar’s eyes turned cold at the thought. “Doesn’t give the time of the day to anyone. Walks around in those raggedy clothes of hers as if they’re velvet.”

“She keeps to herself, mostly,” Alga added. “Though she works in the castle, cleaning the Great Hall, she doesn’t seem to do much else.”

“She’s been going out the North Gate in the late afternoon lately, though,” Ongar glanced sidelong at Alga. “Ever since she got back.” He rubbed his chin. “Stays out until the chapel bells strike ten, then comes back home. Don’t know what she does out there.”

Hanging around that runestone at the base of Cloud Ruler Mountain? “Is that odd behavior for anyone?” I asked.

“Well, my Honmund goes out in the mountains for days at a time,” Alga responded. “But he does prospecting. Jearl isn’t out long enough to do anything productive, if you ask me.”

“Then there’s that face in the window,” Ongar added, taking a sip of his ale.

“Face in the window?” Alga repeated, shooting a glance at him. The old man nodded.

“Yes, every day I see someone looking out the window of Jearl’s cabin. I know it isn’t her, because she’s at the castle working.” Ongar looked at me with that sly look again. There’s more to him than a retired old man enjoying the life of leisure. He sees more than he lets on. So much for the dumb Nord act. I always knew that was bullcrap.

“Hmm, maybe that’s the reason she’s been smug lately,” I remarked softly. Alga and Ongar stared at me, then the old Nord began guffawing heartily.

That will be another six or seven chapters further in the TF, when Teresa meets Nerussa again...

Probably too big to shrink down to avatar size, but I thought you would like it.

I sort of figured you left out a scene with Julian and Martin. But I was just assuming it was so incredibly X-Rated that none of it would pass the board's censor filter...

A few Nords looked me over, but their expressions lacked hostility.
Somehow this sort of felt like a letdown. Must be because of the last inn that Julian visited!

I liked the idea of the klah pitcher hanging over the fireplace. Since you added klah to Tamriel, have you ever thought of where it comes from? Black Marsh perhaps? Or maybe southern Elsewyr? The reason I bring it up is because IRL coffee beans are one of the most traded items on the planet. You might be able to do something with their value as a commodity in either OHDH, or a future storyline, even as a minor side note. Such as Julian encountering a klah caravan, or a person who got rich on trading klah, or maybe running illegal klah shipments (if it is taxed, then somebody's got to be smuggling it), etc...

Finally, well done with the conversation between Julian, Ongar, and Alga. You wove the in game dialogue into new material quite well. Most importantly you brought us to Julian, our international woman of mystery, getting a lead on a possible Mythic Dawn agent in a way that flowed very naturally from the talk.

I agree with Rosa. Loved how subtle you brought in her spy mission into the conversation.

Second to agree with SubRosa. Staggeringly outstanding dialogue with the Bard, the World-Weary and the Proprietor.

And the conversation about Jearl and the face that comes out of the window of her house... made me grin.

Nice update and am waiting for more!!

Caught up again. Thanks for the chow. First there was this:



Then just the thing to take the edge (brrrr) off Bruma - hot soup and bread.

I was so busy enjoying the grub that I barely noticed how beautifully and smoothly you worked Jearl into things. Wonderfully done as mentioned above.

You did a great job with Bruma. Buffy hates the cold so we zip in and out of there pretty quickly when we have to. I'm with Julian in that we prefer Anvil.

Oh, and yay! You finally got an avatar.

@SubRosa: Think you this old soldier is just gonna hop in the sack with her superior?? She's a bit too professional for that! The missing scene is just a little conversation where Julian convinces Martin of the value of rest whenever and wherever you can get it, just like the old soldier she is. I wasn't happy with it so I edited it out. As for klah, well, coffee grows in mountain forests in tropical zones, so that would be Elseweyr or Valenwood. Black Marsh I believe is too low in altitude. Hammerfell and High Rock have the altitudes, but I believe they are too far north. The idea of klah smuggling is an interesting concept and something I'll think about for the next one!

@Remko: I'm glad you thought the whole spy thing was subtle enough to be believable. I enjoyed watching Julian struggle with the concept of undercover work.

@ureniashtram: That last comment of Julian's about the reason for Jearl's recent smugness just escaped her mouth, and I just left it in. I'm glad you enjoyed the conversation in Olav's. I always enjoy sitting there for a few hours and listening in on the NPC's there.

@Acadian: Thanks for reading and enjoying! If Buffy goes to Bruma again, tell her to duck into Olav's and tell him Julian sent her! It's the warmest spot in all of Bruma, I guarantee it!

Now Julian finds out if Jauffre is right.

*****************
Chapter 10.4 - Spies, Really

The residences changed from sturdy log houses along the east side to ramshackle board-and-batten structures along the west side as I limped along the narrow cobblestoned path running around the chapel. People, mostly Nords, greeted me as they passed me, or as I passed them.

As I rounded the southwestern corner of the immense chapel and started back toward the square, I heard a door open behind me. I glanced back as a Redguard woman stepped onto her dilapidated porch. Her black eyes locked with mine and she gasped, her left hand flying upwards.

“You cannot escape the Master’s vigilance!” she shouted, as yellow smoke swirled around her, obscuring her face and figure in daedric armor. The sound of another summoning spell reached my ears as another horrifying figure appeared in the doorway behind her. “For Lord Dagon!” She leaped off the porch toward me.

My right hand reaching to my empty left hip, I cursed myself for not bringing a backup blade, and turned to run. The dark green wool tangled around my ankles, and I slipped on an icy patch, but I managed to keep my footing. My bum knee stabbed as I slid sideways into the stone wall of the chapel to my right.

With a shove of my right hand, I pushed myself off the wall and gathered the skirts up in my left hand, running. Booted footfalls pounded behind me, drawing nearer. A glance over my shoulder indicated the first of the two assassins was only a couple of paces behind me and gaining, her horned mace rising for the blow.

Pain spread through my knee joint and shot up my thigh as I put on another burst of speed. Ahead, I spotted the yellow surcoats of two Guardsmen, already turning at the commotion behind me. They sized up the situation efficiently and unshouldered their bows, shouting for reinforcements.

Reaching the steps of the chapel, I ducked to my right. Arrows whiffed past me toward the two assassins while I scrambled across the granite pavers. As I headed for the East Gate, I avoided the additional guards running up the broad avenue.

Again my foot landed on another patch of ice, and I fell to my knees. A cry escaped me at the sharp stabbing now reaching my right hip. I turned in time to see the nearer assassin go down under the assault of multiple arrows. They didn’t even try to arrest her!

Running up from the East Gate, Senarel positioned himself between me and the remaining Mythic Dawn assassin, his war axe ready. With shouted commands to the four guards, he braced himself for her attack. Four bowstrings twanged nearly simultaneously, and the assailant dropped less than two meters from Senarel and myself. The armor and weapon disappeared in sulfurous smoke, leaving behind the corpse of a Dunmer woman.

One of the guardsmen called the all clear, and they shouldered their bows. Another walked up to the Redguard woman and tipped her body over with a booted foot to see her face. He shot a glance at Senarel, “It’s Jearl, sir,” he reported.

His war axe shouldered, Senarel turned to look at me, his eyes scanning my frame. “Are you hurt, ma’am?” he asked. Still gasping from the pain, I shook my head, gulping down deep breaths of the cold air.

“I’m fine, sir,” I struggled for breath, “thanks to your men.” Senarel took a step toward me and held his hand out. Gratefully I accepted his offer of assistance and regained my feet, shaking out the skirts. Once he was certain I had my balance, Senarel released my hand and stomped to the Dunmer woman, kneeling beside her to look at her face. With a stifled groan at the stabbing in my right leg, I followed him and looked over his shoulder.

“I don’t recognize her,” he muttered under his breath.

“A stranger in town?” I asked. He shot me a glare. “I’m sorry, sir,” I hastened to assure him. “I didn’t mean to imply anything, sir. Ongar said he saw someone looking out the window of Jearl’s cabin. If she stayed inside the entire time -” my voice trailed off.

“Must have,” he growled, searching the woman’s body. Recovering three drakes and a key from the woman’s belt pouch, he handed them to me. “Keep the gold, she won’t be needing it any more. You may want to find out if that key fits somewhere in Jearl’s house.”

Surprised at his words, I took the coins and the key from Senarel. Suddenly overcome by the need to see the face of the woman that had just tried to kill me, I limped over to the Redguard. Her face was young, her black hair pulled back in tight braids along her scalp.

Kneeling awkwardly beside her, I searched her body. Like the other, I found only a few coins and a similar key. I glanced up at Senarel, holding out the items.

“Help yourself,” he said, his tone easing a little. Again he offered me his hand. “Are you certain you aren’t hurt?” His grip was strong and steady as he drew me effortlessly to my feet. “You’re limping pretty badly, ma’am.”

As I brushed the snow and dirt off my skirts, I shook my head at him. “No, sir,” I answered, meeting his dark gaze. “That’s an old injury that never quite healed.” With a sigh, I looked back down at Jearl’s body. “I’m not used to running, sir, especially from danger.”

His eyebrows shot up as Senarel considered me. “Really?” I could see him revising his opinion of me. “What do you usually do with danger, then, ma’am?”

“Usually I stand and face it,” I replied. “Sometimes I’ve gone looking for it.”

“Adventurer?” Senarel’s eyes narrowed at me.

“Half a lifetime in the Legion,” I answered. I could see my estimation soar in Senarel’s eyes. He rocked back on his heels, his eyes steady on me.

“Well, then,” he turned his dark gaze back to Jearl. “Take those keys and go through Jearl’s house, see what you find. I expect a full report from you when you’re done.”

“Certainly, sir,” I agreed. Well, he’s entitled to find out why these two attacked me. Oblivion, I’m entitled to that, too. With a healing spell cast, I turned back to the narrow street leading south. I looked at the keys in my hand, the iron cold in the mountain air.

Reaching Jearl’s house, I stepped through the open door. Within, I found myself in a single room, with an alcove toward the back. A plain bed stood within the small area. A search of the cupboards turned up only food, and a rusty iron cuirass. Pausing with my back to the fire, I looked around the room again. Not many hiding places here. That bed only sleeps one. How did Jearl have a guest?

My eye fell on the rug, laid crookedly under the table. The light from the fire illuminated a square outline beneath the worn fabric. My toe slid beneath the edge of the rug and I flipped it back, exposing a trap door.

Kneeling beside it, I tugged on the iron ring set into the door. Locked. The first key I tried didn’t fit, but the other key did. The trapdoor swung back to reveal a crate below the opening, the musty air typical of cellars rising to my nose. I groaned to myself at the lack of rungs or ladder to ease my aching knee.

I sat at the edge of the trapdoor and lowered myself to the crate, taking as much of my weight on my left leg as I could. A quick look around showed an alcove set off to the side, with another bed in it, behind a cupboard. On top of it, I recognized one of the purple-bound Commentaries. A table placed against the left-hand wall, beneath a guttering torch, drew my attention. Another purple volume rested on it, on top of an open scroll.

Jauffre was right, they were spies. Picking up the scroll, I tilted it to read by the torch light.

Jearl,

The Master was pleased to hear of your activities outside of Chorrol. The more gates that we open the nearer we are to the Glorious Cleansing.

The Master has chosen you and Saveri Faram for a most crucial mission, a sign of your achievement through the ranks of the Chosen. We have learned that the Septim heir has gone to ground at Cloud Ruler Temple, the lair of the cursed Blades. The Master has made its destruction the top priority of the Order, and Lord Dagon has committed whatever resources are required.

Pending your report on the Septim’s activities at Cloud Ruler Temple and your assessment of Temple defenses and possible routes of escape, we plan to open a Great Gate on the open ground before Bruma as soon as possible.

Remember the first three Lesser Gates represent only the preliminary stages of Great Gate deployment. Do not in any way compromise your cover in defense of these gates. New ones can be quickly and easily reopened. And once the Great Gate is opened, the fall of Bruma is assured. Cloud Ruler Temple cannot stand long after this, and the Septim will be caught like a rat in a trap.

We would appreciate any further details you can offer concerning the Imperial agent who rescued Martin from Kvatch, but again we caution you, do not risk a confrontation. This individual is not to be trifled with.

Dawn is breaking.

Ruma Camoran.

Suddenly breathless, I looked up into the flickering torch light. —Not to be trifled with, am I? Obviously, Jearl thought otherwise. My eyes widened at a sudden thought. Ruma knew about me before I went into those caverns. No wonder she recognized me. My hand rose to my hair. People are talking about a white-haired Redguard closing the Kvatch Gate. How many white-haired Redguard women are there?

Recalling Matius’s description of that horrifying night, I considered the spies’ orders. They are to open three smaller gates so a Great Gate can open. Once that Great Gate is open, they can send that siege engine through. If that happens here - I inhaled sharply at the memory of the devastation I had witnessed at Kvatch followed by the thought of the same happening to cold, snowy, warm, friendly Bruma.

Not if I can help it. Re-reading the opening paragraph, my mind caught on another detail. Chorrol? What was Jearl doing at Chorrol? Weynon Priory! She stole the Amulet! That’s why Mankar Camoran was so pleased with her! Suddenly I didn’t regret her death. They killed Prior Maborel.

Well, Hephaestion was a member of the most professional army of his time, and it did not stop him from sleeping with the boss! (I just love the saying: Alexander was never conquered, except by Hephaestion's thighs...) If Julian does not show an interest in someone soon, the rest of us are going to have to start writing Julian slash to make up for it (hmmm, starts thinking about Julian and Jena...).

I suspect that Julian will never wear a skirt again! That was a very exciting chase. I like that fact that Julian is not the one to kill the two Mythic Dawn agents, but rather the guards that come to her rescue. Most fan-fics would have the opposite. Well done!

Ruma's note warning Jearl not to attack Julian rang true to my ears. After how Julian had laid waste to the Arrius Caverns, she is not someone I would be sending anyone but my best after. Perhaps Jearl figured that bagging Julian would insure her promotion?

It was also a nice touch in tying Jearl to the theft of the Amulet of Kings. When I read Chorrol, that was the first thing that came to my mind.

Oh, and since you are using klah, that means you might want to use phrases like "Not worth a hill of beans!" or "You're full of beans!" sometime.


nits:
Ahead, I spotted the yellow surcoats of two Guardsmen ahead, already turning at the commotion behind me.
You have ahead twice here. I think can just delete the second instance.

Very nice! I always this like this part of the MQ. I loved your conclusion Jearl must have been one of the thieves that took the Amulet and had a hand in the death of Maborel.

Not sure if you perhaps meant Redguard here:

After all, she is working for Imperials.

Woo I've caught up and an exciting catch up it was, I like the pace and range of this piece. Her sitting with the nords getting information was great for character then you plop in the excitment of the last section which caught the tension built in previous parts very well.

I agree with SubRosa about the note telling Jearl not to attack, it rings very true. I never quite understood why they always attacked in game, given what happens in the caverns, and that they are surrounded by guards, and that it will blow their cover... Still they are meant to be nutters.

Having her run to the guards was sensible and worked vastly better than having her do something verging on uber, it works perfectly with the character.

Good stuff.

I like Julian’s self reflection (How many white-haired Redguard women are there, indeed?), it goes a long way towards explaining why Jearl chooses to attack. Unfortunately, it doesn’t explain why Jearl would choose to wait until the moment that she has finally gained the master’s notice and favor to suddenly start disobeying orders. That is a flaw in the games story, not in yours. I am enjoying this foray through Bruma immensely. Part of me would love to see Julian join the Thieves Guild if for no other reason than that she gets Ongar as a fence.

For the first time since Kvatch it seems like Julian has stumbled into a situation in which she finds herself in over her head. Allow me to echo the praise already heaped upon you for your handling of the first assassination attempt against her.

Oh Rider, there is so much to love in this chapter!

Your ambient descriptions (cold, ice, chapel, house structures. . . ) are, as always, wonderfully immersive.

You portray the guards in the same professional, even noble way that I see them.

You do wonderful justice to the power of bows here.

It is so easy to love Julian when you allow her vulnerability to shine through as you did here. Skirt, no sword, good decisions. Yet, you temper it when she shows her steely determination to the guards after the fight.

What I didn't love was the pain that Julian felt from her knee. You brought that to life so well that I am rubbing my own knee in sympathy now.

Would Julian ever be up to learning how to summon her own dagger for such emergencies? Is she too old to learn that new trick? I just worry about her.

@SubRosa: Have patience! The old libido takes a while to rear its head after being sick and addicted for so long! Besides, Julian has already met the love of her life (or so she thought), and it turned out badly. She's been gunshy ever since. But in this story, she has already met the one she's going to fall in love with. More I can not say . . .

@Remko: Good point about the Imperial agent. I took it into consideration, but decided to leave it be, since she was working for the Blades at the time, and still is, so that makes her an agent of the Empire, such as it is without a recognized Emperor.

@Olen: Welcome back! I'm glad you enjoyed catching up, instead of regarding it as a chore. Yes, that was one of those situations where Julian is in over her head. As for the Mythic Dawn agents, I think you slammed the nail on the head pretty hard. Yes, they are nutters! After all, they are cultist fanatics. I think that is what the game designers were trying to convey with their senseless attacks. After all, they're not Dark Brotherhood.

@Destri: You'll be disappointed anyway, so let's get it over with - Julian never joins the Thieves' Guild. But that doesn't mean she doesn't enjoy a visit with Ongar the World-Weary in Olav's Tap and Tack from time to time. After all, the old man knows everything that goes on in town!

@Acadian: How wonderful to see you again! Julian will learn that not all city guards are as professional as Burd's men, and not all of them treat Julian with courtesy or respect. And I'm touched that you worry so about Julian's knee. It will hold her back for a while longer, but in Chapter Fifteen that will be the end of it, so don't worry! As for learning a summon weapon spell, that's on her to-do list after this!

After that close call, Julian isn't looking forward to hiking all the way back to Cloud Ruler Temple. So she decides to finish up in town and look for a place to sleep.

*******************
Chapter 10.5 - Merchant’s Row

As I entered the dark confines of Nord Winds, I shivered when the warm air hit my cold skin. The Nord woman at the counter scowled at me as I stamped the snow off my feet on the rug just inside the door. She stood as tall and majestic as Sigrid, but her face was less pretty, marred by a frown.

“Skjorta,” she introduced herself curtly. “Nord Winds. We sell clothing and armor. And I’ve got a headache, so keep your voice down.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I apologized, keeping my voice very low. My foot-stamping must have been unbearably loud. Still, she winced. “You’re not sick, I hope?” I whispered.

“No, no,” she answered, her scowl easing. “I was at Olav’s last night.”

The reason for her headache dawned on me. “Ah, yes, I know how that is,” I commented a little ruefully. Skjorta smiled tightly at me.

“We drink because we’re happy,” she averred. “We’re Nords. It’s just the thick tongue and the fat head the day after that makes us unhappy.”

“Oh, I hear you,” I put as much feeling as I could into my whisper. “Have you tried the chapel healer?”

“Cirroc?” Skjorta scoffed. “And have him scold me for having a little drink and fun? You won’t get me inside any chapel!”

Feeling sorry for her, I dug into my pack, pulling out a couple of weak healing potions. “How much will you give me for these?” I asked, holding the vials out on the palm of my left hand. Her eyes gleamed as she read the script.

“I don’t sell potions,” she said, “but I’ll buy these off of you for seven drakes each.”

“Only seven apiece?” I asked. “I think they’re worth more like ten.” Actually, I’ve seen them priced as high as twenty-seven, but let’s face it, I know all too well what she’s feeling right now.

“Oh, that’s so much,” Skjorta sighed, but she counted out two ten-drake pieces from the lectern. “Practically highway robbery.”

I set the vials on the counter and collected the coins, tucking them into my belt pouch. “Thanks, Skjorta,” I whispered. “I hope you feel better soon.” Beyond her, a male Nord, which I assumed to be Olfand, looked up from his leather-working and met my gaze, a glint in his dark eyes. As I limped for the door, I gave him a nod before leaving.

Next door, the two Altmeri within Novaroma did not seem hungover, to my relief. The auburn-haired woman greeted me in a friendly manner, and the tall male with the slicked-back red hair hailed me heartily. “I’m Suurootan, proud owner of Novaroma, a little slice of Heartland Empire here in the lofty Jeralls!”

“Hello,” I replied. “I’m Julian, from Anvil.”

“Anvil!” Suurootan exclaimed. “You’re a mighty long way from home! What brings you to such a remote corner of the Empire?”

“How can it be so remote with a place like Novaroma?” I responded, pleased to see his face light up even more.

“I see you have a full pack, Julian,” he said. “Have you items you would like to barter?”

“Mostly spell scrolls, potions, and some jewelry,” I answered. As we haggled and bickered our way through the contents of my pack, I was glad I had taken only those items I had no need for. By the time my pack was emptied, except for the message and books from Jearl’s house, my belt pouch was just over five hundred drakes heavier.

“Where are you staying, traveler?” Suurootan asked, as his wife Karinarre started placing the items on display around the store. I considered his question. It was already getting late, the sun had set, and the air growing very chilly. I dreaded the walk back up the mountain, especially with my knee hurting so badly from the running earlier in the afternoon.

“I thought I’d spend the night at Olav’s” I replied.

“Aye, Olav’s is good,” Suurootan said, then crooked a finger conspiratorially at me. When I leaned closer, he whispered, “but a word of advice, if you do much traveling. Join one of the guilds, and have a free bed in practically every town!”

“You mean the Fighters Guild?” I asked. Suurootan leaned back to look at me up and down, sizing up my skinny frame.

“Or the Mages Guild,” he said. “If you carry no weapons, then powerful spells will be your best friends on the road. You can learn new spells, and practice them.” He considered me a moment. “Though you may be a Redguard, you have the potential to build up a pretty decent collection of spells in different schools. Out on the roads, restoration and destruction spells would be very, very useful.”

“Oh, well, I’ve always left the magic up to the battlemages,” I remarked. “But I’m on my own now, so maybe that’s what I’ll have to start working on.”

Suurootan considered me quizzically, frowning at my words. I met his gaze squarely. “The Legion, Suurootan,” I said quietly. The Altmer’s face brightened in comprehension.

“Ah, well, then, the Fighters Guild may have need of your skills,” he said. He frowned again at my silence. “But you’re tired of fighting,” he mused.

“More like all fought out,” I answered. “Lost my youth, my health, and my skills along with it.” Might be a good time to start learning new ones. Maybe I’ll follow in my mother’s footsteps after all. Swinging the empty pack to my shoulder, I tipped my head up at him. “Where can I find the Mages Guild?”

“Next terrace down, on Guild Row,” Suurootan said. “Out the door, turn right toward the Chapel, walk down around Honmund’s house just below us, then back north past the Fighters Guild. You’ll recognize the Mages Guild by the green banners. It’s almost all the way to the Hammer and Axe.”

“Thanks, Suurootan,” I turned for the door.

“Good bye, Hero of Kvatch!” the Altmer said behind me. My hand on the door handle, I paused to glance back at him. He only grinned wider at the expression on my face. My breath soughed visibly in a long sigh as I stepped out into the cold.

Nearly instantly, my teeth started chattering. A bitter wind swirled between the buildings, numbing my cheeks and sending shivers down my spine. Overhead, the sky was dark with sunset and overcast. Large flakes of snow began drifting down.

Tempted to turn back into Novaroma if only for the warmth, I hunched my shoulders against the cold and started limping toward the Chapel. My hip twinged with every step, and my knee complained about the cold.

At the Septim statue, I decided to keep trudging south and seek some healing in the chapel. Though my bum knee had been steadily improving, the new pain warned me that all the healing of the past few days had been undone in that frantic run from the assassins.

Entering the chapel, I breathed deeply of the warmer air. The structure was much like the chapels in Kvatch and Skingrad, large, imposing, with stained glass windows of the Divines around the nave. My limping footsteps echoed faintly in the mostly empty chapel as I approached the altar.

My hand on the stone rim, I inhaled deeply of the healing energy as it coursed through me. The throbbing in my hip subsided, and my bum knee grew quieter. Feeling better, I turned to see an aged Imperial man seated in one of the pews, watching me silently.

Dressed in a green brocade doublet topping silvery-green silk breeches, he smiled at me. “Hello, ma’am,” he greeted me, his voice soft in the stillness of the chapel. “Did you receive the healing you seek?”

“Yes, sir, I did,” I answered. He frowned at me as I started down the aisle.

“Yet you still limp, ma’am,” he murmured. Pausing, I met his gaze.

“It is an old wound,” I shifted my weight onto my left foot. “It never healed right. I can only hope to ease the pain, sir.”

His eyes grew somber. “Only hope?” he repeated. “The Divines have the power to do so much more; all you need is faith, and your prayers will be answered.”

I knelt beside Dibella’s altar, sobbing from the pain and despair. Though I had prayed to the Divine of my childhood, to the Divine I had been named after, and to the Divine I had served for so many years, they remained silent. The pain hammered in my head, in my knee, in my left hip.

Drawing on my memories of chapel-school, I screamed the name of each Divine in turn, pleading for relief. None came. The chapel remained silent and dark. The healer hovered over me, her face blanched, her hands useless.

Finally I pushed them all away, and staggered out into the rain. I made my way to the dockside inn and sought refuge in drink. Only there did I find some kind of relief from the pain, though not from my despair.

“I suppose I’m not faithful enough, sir,” I responded, hearing the bitterness in my tone. “It may be why they didn’t answer my prayers.” When I did pray, I added silently.

He regarded me thoughtfully. “Your heart must be humble, your mind clear,” he said quietly into the dark chapel, so like the one in my memory. “Only when you are most open will the Divines respond to your prayers.”

I shook my head and started down the aisle. His feet scuffled on the stone floor, the pew creaking as he rose to his feet.

“Julian of Anvil, do not give up on the Divines!” he called after me. Halting, I spun on my left leg to gaze back at him.

“How did you know my name?” I demanded.

“News gets around town very quickly,” he said dryly, walking toward me. He stopped an arm’s length away. “A white-haired Redguard woman, with a limp, who introduces herself as being from Anvil, though we all know she is the Hero of Kvatch.”

Staring at him, I couldn’t think of a response to his words. He smiled at me. “You do not like being called a hero, I see,” he commented. “My name is Arentus Falvius, Primate of the Chapel of Talos,” he gestured at the stone walls around us. “Should you need to discuss the purpose of the Divines and the nature of faith further, come find me.”

If you ever want to learn more about Talos, I’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have. Prior Maborel’s kind voice echoed in my memory. With a swallow against the lump that knotted my throat, I turned my face away so Fulvius couldn’t see the tears. “Thank you, sir,” I managed to mutter without my voice breaking.

The primate remained in the main aisle as I limped away, toward the doors leading outside. He did not speak again, and I escaped into the cold night.

But in this story, she has already met the one she's going to fall in love with. More I can not say . . .
Ooo, now we can guess which one it is. Valen Dreth?

But what is this about the chapel of Dibella? Very neat. Is that from after being discharged from the legion I suspect? Or from the broken heart you alluded to in your comment? More of that please!

Good part and a nice development of Bruma and more of Julian. Makes me wonder which (if either) guild she'll join, and how much magic she'll be doing soon, certainly she's drastically different that she was at the start so full marks on development.

Good stuff with her bitterness at the world and the gods too, fits her character well and developed it naturally.


Brilliant line, with that one sentence you brought to life the cold of Bruma and realised it making the setting come off the page for me, great little observation, and it fitted her reaction well. The idea of visible soughing works well too, synaesthesia I believe is the term for the technique.


Looks like the mythic dawn might not be the only crazies in Bruma.

After the encounter with the assassins this quiet interlude of a chapter is exactly what was needed. I like how you allowed Julian’s dialogue with Suurootan to continue before making it known that he (and everyone else in Bruma, it seems) knows who Julian is. So much for undercover, eh?!

The scene in the chapel was just great. I have always had the sense of an abiding sadness that covers Julian like a grey cloak. With all that has happened to her since she woke up in prison the times that we see her melancholy have been rare. I thought that her failure at prayer combined with the memory of Prior Maborel effectively dramatized her sadness in this quiet moment that precedes the next storm. I look forward to more subtle insight into her character as the story continues.

I'm just so pleased you present guards and soldiers as multidimensional real people. Of course, like any people, there are good ones and not so good ones. Yay! Julian's knee will get better soon. Similarly, I think it's wonderful that Julian looks like she might be learning some more magic!

Ok, this new chapter was great. Three parts:
1. Nord Winds. Simply magnificent interface with Skjorta. I loved the reference to our friend and only remaining survivor or the Kvatch guild of mages, Sigrid.
2. Novarama. Also well done. Begins to show how hard it is for Julian to remain low key, despite her humility.
3. The Chapel of Talos. Oooh, this was so poignant. And mysterious. It makes us want to know more about Julian's past.

You continue to cause Buffy and I to shiver while reading of Julian in Bruma. Yup, glad we don't get there too often. We thank Julian for sharing it with us while we stay warm though. You effectively keep the chill going there, with just the right touch.

@SubRosa: Valen Dreth??!! Now that I'm done laughing, let me catch my breath and say - Guess Again! Yes, that flashback to the Chapel of Dibella goes back to Julian's return to Anvil after being discharged from the Legion. I wanted to show the depths of despair she felt during those dark days, when she turned to drink (and eventually skooma two years later). That first love turned sour is much earlier. We'll learn a little more about that as the story grinds on . . .

@Olen: Thanks for picking up on the dark undercurrent running through Julian's personality. Yes, she is bitter, but she tries to hide it. And yes, she'll continue growing and developing. There's so much she'll learn to do! Fortunately, you won't have to wait long to learn which guild Julian joins.

@Destri: Again you show an uncanny knack at picking up the essence of Julian's character just by reading between the lines. Yes, melancholy is always with Julian. I do plan to show more of it as we progress through the Main Quest.

@Acadian: I loved the in-game dialogue with Skjorta. The fact that she runs around town drunk from 10 pm until 3 am before going to bed is one of the most, well, amusing NPC's behavioral characteristics I've ever seen. The way they gossip about her around town too adds flavor to Bruma. Poor Olfand! Once, with my thief character, I sat in their house and watched him pace around the house waiting for Skjorta to come home. It was pathetic and very sad. I'm glad the interlude in the Chapel of Talos left you wanting more. That was not part of the original drafts, but after writing Chapter Fifteen, I felt I needed to develop that aspect of Julian's character a little more, so I went back and worked this segment a little more. The scene in the Chapel just felt right at this point, and it felt like a good time to introduce the reason for Julian's disillusionment with the Divines. I'm glad you and Buffy are enjoying Bruma vicariously!

Now Julian decides to join a guild so she can have a warm bed to sleep in before hiking all the way back to Cloud Ruler Temple. Only thing is, she finds herself in yet another situation! P.S. Here is another NPC I had lots of fun writing!

*****************
Chapter 10.6 - Joining the Mages Guild

Thoroughly chilled by the time I entered the Mages Guild, I was glad of the warmth within. A small Breton woman behind the counter glanced over as I paused on the entrance rug to look around the well-lit hall. Shelves lined the walls to either side, filled with books and alchemical equipment.

“Hello there!” she greeted me, her right hand lifting up in summons. A scamp appeared in front of me, making me jump. My hands moved for the sword hilt that wasn’t there. The creature ignored me however, and stood in place for several seconds, until it dissolved into sulfurous smoke. “I’m Jeanne Frasoric, head of the Bruma Mages Guild Chapter,” the woman smiled at me brightly. “Are you here to join the Mages Guild?” her voice turned faintly condescending in its light tone.

“I don’t know,” I answered, moving closer to Frasoric. “Should I?”

“Well,” she considered me thoughtfully, pug-nosed and flushed. She smoothed back her braided strawberry-blond hair, “the Mages Guild lost quite a few members when the practice of necromancy was banned. If you’re interested in studying magic and gaining knowledge, and as long as you don’t practice necromancy, we’d love to have you!”

I took the plunge. “Then yes, I’d like to join.”

“The Guild is always looking for new members, and you seem capable enough!” the woman chirped. How can she tell? I wondered to myself. She hasn’t asked me what spells I know! She must have sensed my hesitation, for she frowned slightly at me. “Are you certain you want to join?”

“Yes, I’m certain,” I replied. Am I? Do I really have what it takes to be a mage? But I want to get better at healing, so I can cast convalescence spells on Paint if he gets hurt, or on my friends. I want to learn more about alchemy. I want to get better with my flares.

“Very good!” the small woman bounced on her toes. “You are now an Associate of the Mages Guild. What a wonderful opportunity for you!” She handed me a key and a small volume. The Mages Guild Charter, I read the gold script on the spine. Great. More reading material.

“Now,” she continued, drawing my attention back to her, “please remember, if you wish to enter the Arcane University, you’ll need recommendations from every Guild Chapter in Cyrodiil.” I blinked. Enter the Arcane University? Why?

“Why would I want to enter the Arcane University?” I repeated my question out loud. Remembering Raminus Polus, I considered how polite and welcoming he had been when he spoke to me in the lobby of the Mages Tower.

Frasoric’s eyebrows lifted, as did her heels. “Why, all the important people in the guild are there!” she declared. “Arch-Mage Traven lives there, in the tower - it’s such a fabulous place - you really should see it some day. I’ve been there many times myself,” her tone became braggart. “The Imperial City wouldn’t be the same without it. Maybe some day, if you know the right people -” her tone implied that she was one of those right people, “you might get a chance to see it.”

Now she straightened her spine and stood as tall as she could, lifting her chin. The top of her head barely reached my nose. “I dare say that my opinion may carry more weight than others, if you take my meaning.” I kept my face as straight as I could. Yes, I do. Her type was all too familiar to me from my years of soldiering. “Still,” she continued, “all are necessary to proceed. Good luck to you!” Her heels came down with a thump on the floorboards.

“So what can I do if I can enter the Arcane University?” I pressed. What is so special about the University that I can’t learn in the chapter houses?

“Oh, Guild members who have access to the University can craft their own spells, not to mention chat with the most important members in the Guild,” again that snooty tone crept into Frasoric’s voice, again she rose on her toes. I was beginning to get a sense of the measure of her self-esteem.

“Not like here, in Bruma?” I commented, deciding not to tell her that I had spoken with Polus himself, had been in the tower she spoke so excitedly about. Her heels might hit the floorboards so hard to break them.

Frasoric dropped her heels. “Oh, you know, it’s like anyplace else,” she said with a shrug. “Make lots of friends, look busy, same as always.” She turned partially away from me, raising her left hand again. I braced myself for her summons, but only a faint green tingle sank from her hand. “Oh, pooh,” she pouted. I bit my lip.

This is the chapter head? I asked myself. Even an old soldier like me can tell she has no aptitude for magic, let alone skill. Clearing my throat, I hoped that my face did not reflect my own incredulous thoughts. “About that recommendation -”

“A recommendation?” Frasoric turned back to me, growing a few centimeters taller again, humility dripping from her voice. “From me? Well, of course Raminus would naturally want my opinion, wouldn’t he?” she thought for a moment. “Hmm, this is a situation we both can benefit from, Associate. You do me a small favor, and I’ll happily send along a glowing recommendation. If you can find J’skar, I’ll write it immediately.”

“J’skar?” I repeated. Frasoric returned to her natural height.

“He’s disappeared,” she pouted. “I mean, really disappeared. No one here has seen him in days. Volanaro thinks maybe a spell backfired.” She huffed in an exaggerated manner. “If someone from the Guild was to stop by and find him gone, it’ll look bad for me. I can’t have that.”

I was beginning to sense the nature of the issue. “So you want me to find out what happened,” I stated, just to make things clear.

“Talk to the mages here and see what you can find out,” Frasoric rose and dropped down on her feet in a single breath. “If you can make J’skar reappear, you’ll have your recommendation.” Again she turned away, raising her hand for another summons. Again the spell fizzled ineffectively from her fist. I watched her try, and try again, intense concentration on her face. She’s trying too hard.

I had to bite my tongue to refrain from giving her advice I myself was ill-equipped to give. Have to give her credit, she’s not giving up, I admitted to myself as she kept trying. Turning away, I went to one of the side rooms, which led to a stair hall leading down to the lower level.

The basement was stone-walled, wood-floored, and cozy. A central hall ran from one side of the building to the other, with two doors leading off on each side of the passage. Voices emanated from an open doorway, drawing me to a dining room. A young Altmer, handsome with wavy red hair and a green silk outfit, looked up from setting the table. Her back to me, an older Imperial woman caught his glance and turned around to see me. She wore a lovely blue velvet dress that complemented her womanly curves, and dark hair waving in a short bob framed her oval face.

“Welcome,” the Altmer said after a moment. “I’m Volanaro, at your service. Need a spell? Need an item recharged? Need a witty practical joke played on someone? I can handle it all.”

Practical joke? I bet that’s what’s going on with J’skar. “Hello,” I returned. “I’m Julian. I just joined the Mages Guild. I’m learning my way around.”

“Oh, welcome!” the woman exclaimed. “I’m Selena Orania, Journeyman.” Her smile was warm and genuine, her tone truly welcoming. “Have a seat, join us for dinner.”

“Thanks, I will,” I took a seat at the table, across from Volanaro. Orania passed me a platter of roasted vegetables. Taking a healthy portion of them, I poured myself a tumbler of water. “How do you do here in Bruma?”

“Oh, it’s a little too rugged up here for me,” Volanaro said fastidiously. “Add a couple of hairs to a Nord and you’ve got a bear.” I spluttered violently at his words, then apologized fervently to Orania for spitting water on her lovely velvet gown.

“Oh, it’s quite all right,” she assured me, shooting a fierce look at the Altmer that made it clear who she blamed for the ruin of her dress. “Volanaro tends to have that effect on people, especially those meeting him for the first time.” Volanaro only grinned back at her, mischief in his dark eyes. “As for me,” Orania continued, “sometimes I feel we’re not welcome here. The Nords don’t like Heartlanders very much.” She waved her hand at Volanaro. “And in case you haven’t noticed, Volanaro has a twisted sense of humor. But he does have a few nice spells up his sleeves. If you want a bound sword, talk to him.”

I could have used that this afternoon. “Maybe I will,” I swallowed my mouthful first. “But I have a feeling that spell is beyond my capabilities.”

“Oh, you’ll grow your magicka quickly enough,” Volanaro assured me. “Just practice the lesser spells until you can do it without thinking.” I heard the snicker in his voice, and thought of poor Frasoric, trying so hard with her summon spell upstairs. Orania had a more difficult time keeping the frown from her face than I did.

“By the way, I understand there is another Guild member here, J’skar?” I remarked casually. I did not miss the glare Orania shot Volanaro.

“Look, I like you and all,” she said to me, her voice holding suppressed disapproval, “but I really don’t want to get in the middle of this. If Volanaro and J’skar want to have their fun, fine. I’m not going to participate, and I’m not saying another word about it. Take it up with them.” Setting her chair back with a bang, she rose from the table and left the dining room.

Looking at Volanaro, I raised my eyebrows at him. He matched my look, his own bushy brows climbing his narrow forehead.

“It’s a shame Selena doesn’t participate in our fun,” he commented by way of explanation. “But you’d be hard pressed to find a better alchemist. She takes her role here very seriously. If you need supplies, she’s the one you want to see.”

“And J’skar?” I pressed.

“You want to find J’skar?” he countered.

“Well, I’d like to meet him,” I answered.

“All right,” Volanaro rubbed his chin thoughtfully. His dark eyes sparked. “I can help you with that. But you have to agree to do something for me first. And whatever it is, you can’t tell Jeanne about it, all right?”

My eyes narrowed at him. It felt all too familiar, the direction this conversation was headed. Some of my comrades in my second Legion posting had played a prank on a despised lieutenant. Jelin, our pilus prior, had caught them out. They had been flogged, the ringleader kicked out of the Legion in disgrace, and the other three participants posted to the remotest Legion outposts. It was a lesson I had taken to heart.

“What is it?” I asked, putting as much suspicion as I could muster into my voice.

Volanaro was either too dense to sense my wariness, or chose to ignore it. “That’s the spirit!” he exclaimed softly. “You help me pull off a little prank, and I’ll help you find J’skar.”

“What prank are you thinking of?” I regarded him with distaste.

“Ha!” Volanaro laughed. “You’re really going to love this! I’ll teach you a spell to unlock things. What you need to do is get into Jeanne’s desk, and bring me her Manual of Spellcraft, okay?” He winked at me. “Her room is upstairs, on the second level. Make sure no one sees you. You do that, and I’ll make sure you can find J’skar.”

“That doesn’t sound very respectful of our chapter head,” I commented, holding Volanaro’s gaze with what I hoped was my coldest stare. He shifted uncomfortably.

“With all due respect to our esteemed leader,” he scowled, indicating he had anything but due respect, “she couldn’t cast her way out of a paper sack. It’s insulting working here for her when she knows nothing. She’s managed to butter up the right people just enough to keep her position, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” A demonic glint moved through his eyes. “But we have our ways of coping with the situation.”

“I’m certain you do,” I could hear the acid in my voice, and judging by the look in Volanaro’s eyes, he didn’t miss it, either. “As long as the right people don’t find out about your propensity for disrespect.” Still, I need his help to locate J’skar. I don’t know how to cast a detect life spell. I rose from the bench. “Keep your spell,” I said, thinking of the lockpicks in my belt pouch. “I have my own ways.”

Jeanne Frasoric... annoying wench.... I just know I'm gonna love this

Hmmm, well if Valen Dreth is out, then let me venture another guess. Luther Broad!

So it was the Mages Guild after all. I was guessing that was where she was leaning rather than the FG, given her thoughts about following in her mother's footsteps.

You really did Jeanne Frasoric extraordinarily well, capturing her lack of magical aptitude, conceit, and social climbing. They way you intalicized specific words to highlight her inflections on them spoke volumes of the air within her head. All style, absolutely no substance. Goddess did I run into tons of girls like that in high school!

Jeanne isn't quite as I imagined her but I think your version is better, I can certainly see why winding her up would be good fun (surely Julian can manage to enjoy it a bit ). I had suspected she'd go for the mages guild but wasn't certain, now it seems she'll be becoming a mage.

Well if we're all guessing I'm going for her elopeing with Brother Piner to become antequarian book dealers in Port Televanis.

So that’s why Skjorta runs around Bruma like an idiot! Honestly, I bump into her every time I leave the Mages Guild and until now I never knew why.

There is no mystery as to your feelings about Jeanne Frasoric. You should check your keyboard. I think you got rid of it all, but there might still be some venom left in the spaces between the keys! You incorporated the in game dialogue well, and your versions of Volanaro and Orania are so good that I can’t wait to meet J’Skar.

I have to differ with the others in one respect. Somehow I just don’t see Julian advancing to the level of Master Wizard. I think her foray into the Mages Guild will result in a better understanding of the basic spells, and maybe a rudimentary understanding of the advanced versions of said spells. But beyond that I think there is still too much of the cultural bias of the Redguard and the suspicions of a career soldier inside of her to ever give herself over fully to magic.

I’m still holding out hope for Jauffre! He could spend his time reading all the books that Julian doesn’t want to. And don’t forget Merowald . . . ‘e fries up a mean slaughterfish ‘e does!

What a fun romp!

What little time we spend in Bruma is trying to stay warm at the mages guild hall. You captured it nicely. I am so delighted that Julian joined the Mages Guild.

Jeanne Frasoric has always struck me as a woman to feel sorry for. Kind of a bubbly, clueless airhead. Over her head, but not ill intentioned.

My guess is that Julian will demonstrate her typical loyalty to her new mates in the guild of mages and relish improving her magic skills for functional and practical purposes (hitting, killing, curing); however, I see in her the Hero of Kvatch and future Champion of Cyrodiil, not a future Arch Mage or Master Wizard. It will be fun to learn if I am right or not.

@Remko: Julian shares your opinion about Frasoric! As for enjoying this, well . . .

@SubRosa: I had my fair share of those airheads in my high school as well! I guess there's about ten or twenty in every high school across this country, though they may be overrepresented in So. Cal. I'm really glad that you enjoyed my portrayal of Frasoric.

@Olen: Julian has had wayyy too many incompetent officers in the Legion to enjoy yet another incompetent superior. She has the experience to handle them, though, like any old USMC sergeant. I'm sure Acadian will agree!

@Destri: Yet again you prove to have uncanny insight into Julian's character. She can't let go of the sword long enough to rely on magic (much like myself when playing these games). She'll find magic useful in conjunction, but will take the spell efficacy hit in lieu of being weaponless and unarmored. I do hope you enjoy meeting J'skar in this next segment.

@Acadian: You are right as well in your assessment of Julian's attitude toward magic. She will come to respect the Legion battlemages even more than she already has, but she won't aspire to be as good as they are, let alone take on the MG questline. I have no plans for her to tangle with the necromancers at this point.

@all guessing at Julian's love: this is starting to sound like a pool here! Luther Broad, Brother Piner (kudos to Olen for creativity!), Grandmaster Jauffre, and Merowald. Hmm. Y'all are wrong so far! More guesses are always welcome, but I'm not going to say yea or nay until it is revealed in the story!

A little late today, since I spent the day having lunch with friends, then running errands all afternoon. But here is the conclusion of the quest for J'skar. You get to see a little more of Julian's old habits coming out.

**************************
Chapter 10.7 J’skar

Limping out into the hall, I saw Orania conferring with Frasoric. Is she telling Frasoric about Volanaro’s prank? “Julian seems nice enough,” Orania was saying, “and I think she’ll fit in well with us. I think she’s capable of keeping the younger ones in line.”

“Who, me?” I asked. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing.”

“Oh, not at all,” Frasoric assured me, rising and falling on her toes. “Selena was just telling me that another member of her maturity would be most welcome.” I saw the pained look in Orania’s face, and knew my own expression mirrored hers. Frasoric seemed oblivious to the effect on us of her choice of words and pranced away toward the dining room.

“Look,” Orania whispered to me, “I suppose I like Jeanne well enough. It’s a shame she doesn’t know more about her craft, though. Still, I don’t think she deserves the hard time the others give her.”

A glance behind me told me we were the only ones in the hallway. “I agree with you, Orania,” I whispered back. “But for now, I’m going to play along. I really need to find J’skar to get my recommendation from Frasoric.” I lowered my voice even more. “But be certain, I’ll make sure Volanaro and J’skar will regret this practical joke before I’m finished.”

“If you can do that,” Orania responded, “you’ll make me very happy.”

Turning from her, I headed to the south end of the hall. I found my way to the second level above the lobby, where Frasoric’s private quarters lay. The door was unlocked, and I let myself through. Within, I found an ornate desk that took up nearly half the floor space. Most of the drawers were full of parchment and quills, but one was locked. Pulling out a couple of lockpicks, I stroked the first one in the lock. The simple one-tumbler lock was easily picked, even with my rusty skills.

Inside, I found the volume Volanaro wanted, Manual of Spellcraft. It was well-thumbed, the pages worn, the spine cracked. Frasoric must have spent a lot of time studying. It’s too bad she hasn’t benefited as well as she should have. I hated to remove it, but the idea of going to the Arcane University and crafting my own spells held too much appeal to me at the moment. I’ll make sure it gets replaced, I promised myself. Re-locking the drawer, I turned for the stairs.

I found Volanaro in one of the sleeping rooms. “Have you pulled that little prank yet?” he asked me.

“Little prank?” I repeated, handing him the volume. “More like a prank too big for your britches.”

He ignored my comment, looking at the worn volume. “I see you got Jeanne’s book, all right. Meet me here just after ten tonight.”

“Ten bells,” I said. “What time is it now?”

“Oh, you’ve got an hour or so yet, before Jeanne goes upstairs to bed,” Volanaro responded. “I’ll show you J’skar then.”

I spent the intervening hour upstairs in the main hall, looking over the books on the shelves, reading their titles. Several copies of The Fundaments of Alchemy caught my attention. Taking one copy from the shelf, I sat down in a comfortable chair near one of the tall candlestands.

Before it was time to meet Volanaro again, I had progressed through the introduction. I decided to study it along with The Amulet of Kings, Piner’s book, and Sigrid’s little volume. Returning downstairs, I found Volanaro waiting impatiently for me. “Ready to find J’skar?” he asked. I nodded silently. “Just watch, then,” he said. “You’ll see!”

He turned to one side and threw a purple glow from his left hand at a space next to me. Startled at the near miss, I stepped back as a Khajiit appeared at my side. The man-feline turned to me, his amber eyes bright with glee.

“Hello,” he purred. “I hearr you’rre looking forr me.” I narrowed my eyes at him, not saying anything. His eyes rounded, and his ears went down. “Please, don’t be angrry. We werre just having some fun.” Now he scowled. “We just get tirred of Jeanne lorrding herr position overr us, when she barrely knows anything about magic. Everry now and then, we like to trrick herr.” He smiled. “We figurred it was time to move on to a new prrank. This one was getting borring, anyway. So you can tell Jeanne you’ve found me!”

“Do you think so?” I said skeptically.

“Finding ways to confuse herr just neverr gets old forr me. It’s good prractice of ourr skills, too, but mostly it’s just forr fun.” J’skar smile faltered, and the tip of his long, thick tail twitched.

“You’ve got nothing better to do here?” I asked him.

“Therre’s not much to do in the Brruma chapterr,” J’skar responded. “If you can get to the Arrcane Univerrsity, though, they let you make yourr own spells therre.”

“It was a good idea, wasn’t it?” Volanaro chuckled, moving to sling his arm across J’skar’s shoulders, leaning on the shorter Khajiit. “I wonder how long she’ll spend trying to figure out where she put that book down!” he slapped his free hand against J'skar's. The two young mages exchanged chuckles and mirthful glances. “She won’t be able to figure it out for weeks!” Volanaro crowed. “Oh, it’s times like this I enjoy what I do.”

I eyed both of them, feeling my jaw tense. Limping to the door, I closed it softly, then turned back to face the two pranksters.

“If you think all I’m going to tell Frasoric is that I’ve found J’skar,” I spoke as icily as I could, watching the glee fade from the young men’s faces, “you are sadly mistaken. What you are doing is disrespectful,” I chopped my hand forcefully down between us when Volanaro opened his mouth to protest. “I know she’s not very competent,” I met his gaze with my fiercest glare, “but she is your chapter head. She deserves your support, more so with her own lack of skills.”

I moved my gaze to J’skar. “Every time you prank her, you undermine her authority, not only in your own eyes, but in the eyes of all of Bruma.” I took a deep breath, realizing that I now stood ramrod straight, as if I stood on the drill field in front of the Ninth Cohort. “And each time you do that, you degrade the reputation of the Mages Guild.” I pointed at the Khajiit, his ears abject. “You want to gain entrance to the Arcane University?” Now I pointed at Volanaro, who straightened up and dropped his arm from J’skar’s shoulders at my glare. “You want to get out of Bruma?” I shook my head. “The only way you’re going to accomplish that is to suck it up with Frasoric. She alone has the power to send you along to better posts, and the only way she’s going to do that is if she feels you deserve it.” I paused to give them a chance to think. “Am I clear?”

The two mages shifted their feet, glancing sidelong at each other. I only glared at them. Finally, J’skar hung his leonine head. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured.

“I can’t hear you!” I snapped, my tone cracking across the room. Both young mages stiffened, and J’skar’s tail lashed violently from side to side in alarm.

“Yes ma’am!” J’skar’s voice hissed. I turned my glare to Volanaro.

“Clear as a bell!” he spoke crisply, just as surprised as J’skar at the sudden change in my demeanor.

“Now, about that book,” I held Volanaro’s gaze. “I have no problem telling Frasoric about my part in this particular prank,” I kept the ice in my tone. “I’ll take my consequences. The question is, are you prepared to take yours?”

“Uh, I’ll return it,” Volanaro promised, his tone abject. “In the morning, when she’s up and downstairs.”

“See to it,” I growled at him, “and she won’t hear of it from me. Delay, and you’d better be prepared.” Now I scowled at him. “I don’t accept any excuses.”

Turning to the door, I opened it and stepped out, closing the panel behind me. As I did so, Orania stepped out of the shadows between the sconces.

“Is there a problem ma’am?” she asked me. On a deep breath, I shook my head.

“No, no problem at all, Journeyman,” I answered, secretly satisfied at the bland tone in my voice. Orania eyed me thoughtfully.

“For a moment there, I thought I overheard a dressing-down,” she said quietly.

“Maybe you did,” I replied.

“The Legion shows,” she said pointedly. Startled by her perception, I shot a glance at her. Finally I shrugged.

“I had a couple of very tough pili,” I remarked. Orania shook her head.

“Sounds to me like you were a very tough pilus,” her tone was firm and decisive. Recognizing the futility of hiding that aspect of my history from her, I said nothing for several moments.

“Between experience and attrition in the ranks,” I remarked, “it’s almost inevitable, if you stay in long enough, to get into a position where you’re going to get killed because of a stupid recruit mistake.”

“But you didn’t,” Orania responded, waving for me to follow her down the hall to the sleeping room next door. Feeling suddenly weary in my old bones, I limped after her.

“I was nearly killed by a stupid recruit mistake,” I commented. Orania eyed my limp thoughtfully, closing the room door behind us. She waved me to the bed on the right hand side.

“You can sleep there,” she said. “But first let me see that knee.”

Setting my pack down beside the indicated bed, I glanced sharply at Orania. “I’ve been to several healers,” I began, but she shook her head.

“Ever been to a Mages Guild healer?” she asked. “Or an alchemist?” Her gesture was imperative. I sat down and raised my skirts above my right knee. The scar was livid with inflammation, the joint swollen from the pounding it had taken earlier.

Orania knelt beside me to take a closer look. Though her touch was feather light, I still sucked my breath between my teeth as she gently felt the swelling. “This is an old wound,” she said softly. “It never healed right?”

“It festered,” I said breathlessly. Something made me show her the wound on my left side. “Same with this one. It’s not bothering me any more, thank Akatosh.”

“Well, the infection is gone from both of them,” Orania said after she finished examining the wounds. “But the tissues,” she indicated my knee, “knitted wrong.” She looked up at me, sitting back on her heels. “It would be difficult to heal it without cutting.”

“No,” I said flatly. “I’m not taking a risk like that again.” Orania frowned at me.

“Who did the original surgery?”

“Someone in the Legion,” I answered, reluctant to remember his name. “These wounds got me kicked out of the service.”

“Not your fault,” Orania countered. “Look, let me speak to Cirroc, the chapel healer. He’s very good. Maybe he can help you.”

I shrugged. “I can’t stop you,” I said. “But I’m not agreeing to anything.”

“Neither am I,” Orania replied. “But for now, get some sleep.”

I didn’t argue with her. Removing the quilted doublet and the skirt, I cast my nightly healing spells, then crawled beneath the brocaded coverlet.

My this is one big chapter! We are at the seventh segment and still going strong.

The old centurion returns! Julian shows us not only the disciplined soldier who follows the rules and respects her superiors, but also the seasoned veteran who understands that you respect the rank, even when you cannot respect the person who wears it. Because without that the entire group breaks down, and everyone is screwed.

With the old pilus comes another glimpse at the circumstances that caused her injuries as well, which I welcome. The more of Julian's past that you show us, the better. A person of her maturity has been shaped by the events of her past. Seeing those events helps us better understand who she is today. Please give us more of these little flashbacks and insights!

And since my previous guesses were out, let me venture a third: Raminus Polus. As the song by Heart goes, he's a magic man...

Somehow, I just know that she enjoyed this. Yup:
Gunnery Sergeant Julian of Anvil, Imperial Legion, Retired.
And don't piss her off!

This was so fun to read! Julian reminded me of Jack Webb - both as the DI and as Joe Friday.

Ooh, I'm thinkin' that knee may get the attention it requires (I hope, I hope).

You have taken a wonderful fun little quest and made it your own. I loved what you did with it!

Julian just gets more likable all the time.


Oh, take a peek at this: Did you perhaps mean 'though'?

Sub Rosa - STOP PHISING!!!

Since Julian is Redguard serving in the Legion, I think it's only fitting that her flame should be another Redguard or someone serving in the Legion.

Hmm... could it be:

Baurus

Cyrus (another Redguard serving in the Blades)

... Adamus Phillida (cackles madly)

Hieronymus Lex ( )

the Redguard working in the stables of ANvil (what was his name again?)

Ruslan?

I'm runnin' out of ideas. Anyway, I like this chapter. It really shows (so to speak) Julian's experience in the Legion. More, please!!

Nah, Ruslan is out of the question imo. Not enough spine in that one.

@SubRosa: Yes, I thought the Bruma recommendation quest was annoying, and my own reaction was quite similar to Julian's (though hers was stronger and much more effective). She got to do just what I wanted to do so badly! Lucky woman! I'm glad you picked up on the hints at her background and how she came to be discharged from the Legion.

@Acadian: I just had a feeling this segment would appeal to you in particular. I knew it did when you called Julian a retired Gunnery Sergeant. That is exactly how I see her, myself! Thanks for catching that nit. Muscle memory, you know (I type up to 100+ words a minute - not nearly fast enough when my mind is running in fifth gear). As for her knee, well, it'll be a few more chapters yet of limping before it finally gets fixed, but yes, it'll be Cirroc the Redguard from the Chapel of Talos who accomplishes the impossible.

@D.Foxy: He he.

@ureniashtram: Thanks for adding more candidates! I'm glad you're enjoying this so far.

@Remko: I'd agree with you, but Julian? Who knows what she will think when she meets him?

So far, the candidates we have include Raminus Polus, Baurus, Cyrus, Adamus Phillida, H. Lex, Ernest (that was his name), and Ruslan. Like I said, I'm not going to say yea or nay. I'd rather wait and see if anyone spots Julian's love before she gets blindsided.

On to a new chapter - much happens in Chapter 11.

********************
Chapter 11.1 Reporting the Results

The two younger mages were silent over breakfast the next morning. Both of them eyed me uneasily throughout the meal, each picking at his plate. Part of me felt bad for killing their high spirits, but the old pilus I used to be remained implacable toward them.

Orania noticed their subdued attitudes and shot me a meaningful glance, but I was in too much pain from my knee to pay much attention to her. I wanted to finish this job, get my recommendation from Frasoric, make my report to Gerich Senarel, then hike the long uphill climb back to Cloud Ruler Temple to report to Jauffre.

The three healing spells I had cast this morning helped with the swelling in my knee, but the pain still shot up my thigh when I walked on it. Again, I silently cursed myself for leaving my backup weapons at Cloud Ruler Temple. Still, I knew that my knee had been much more painful not that long ago. I had become accustomed to the decreased pain recently. Resentful of this relapse in the old wound, I realized that my left hip remained mostly pain-free. I decided to be grateful for small mercies.

After my meal, I headed upstairs, finding Frasoric squinting at a volume.

“I found J’skar,” I said simply.

“Found him, did you?” she repeated. She seemed distracted this morning. “Well, that’s good.” I was surprised at her lack of enthusiasm. Beyond her shoulder, I saw Volanaro tiptoe across the south stair hall, a familiar volume in his hand, toward the stairs leading up to Frasoric’s quarters.

“Yes,” I answered. “He was trying out a new invisibility spell and got carried away.”

“Oh,” she said faintly. Then her eyes focused on me. “You’ll have to forgive me,” she said worriedly. “I seem to have misplaced something -” her voice trailed off. I groaned inwardly. Don’t ask me to find that damned book for you. “Hmm, yes, well - let’s never mind that,” she shook herself. “You’ve fulfilled your end of the bargain, I’ll fulfill mine. Raminus will have my recommendation.” Now she simpered at me. “And don’t forget about me once you’ve finished your training!” She bounced on her toes in that characteristic manner of hers. “I’m sure we can help each other out!”

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said, secretly glad she hadn’t asked me about her missing book. I hated lying. Volanaro returned back across the stair hall, his hands empty. He caught my gaze and nodded once. That book has been returned. Good. “As for what you seem to be missing,” I said to Frasoric, “where is the last place you remember seeing it?”

“Oh, on my desk,” she responded. “But it’s not there, now. Hmm -”

“Where do you normally keep it, on top of your desk?” I asked her. She shook her head.

“No, I keep it in the drawer. Maybe I should look again -”

“It’s amazing what we miss right under our noses,” I commented quietly.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Frasoric tapped her lower lip thoughtfully. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and have another look then.”

“Good bye, ma’am,” I said, as she headed for the stairs. She waved absent-mindedly at me. Turning toward the front door, I saw J’skar and Volanaro standing in the north stair hall, watching me anxiously. I felt guilty at destroying any little fun they might have had in what they considered a forsaken corner of Cyrodiil.

“Remember,” I said, walking up to them. “No more pranks on the chapter head. No matter what your feelings about her capabilities. However,” I regarded the abject young men, “there is nothing harder to prank than an expert prankster.” I stifled a smile as sudden comprehension dawned on their faces. Volanaro and J’skar exchanged glances, each assessing the other. “Have a good day, gentlemen,” I said, and turned for the door.

Orania caught me as I reached for the latch. “I’m sorry to see you go, Julian,” she said quietly, pressing a couple of vials into my hand. “Use these when you have great need,” she warned. Strong Potion of Healing, the cursive script on each vial read. Slipping the precious potions into my belt pouch, I smiled at her.

“Thanks, Orania,” I said. “I appreciate this gift of yours. I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

Outside, the sky was overcast, though the air remained clear and crisp. I shivered in the cold, and limped north along the terrace toward the Hammer and Axe. After picking up my newly-sharpened weapons, I turned west up the hill towards the Castle.

Inside the Castle, I found Burd and Senarel at breakfast in the barracks. Senarel spotted me and waved me to join them. Refusing the food he offered me, I sat down in the indicated seat. Burd poured me some hot klah without asking, which I accepted gratefully.

“It was very cold last night,” he commented.

“Yes, I spent the night at the Mages Guild,” I answered. “I didn’t feel like hiking out in the dark.” Burd only grunted. Taking the clay mug, I wrapped both of my hands around it, my chilled fingers soaking up its heat.

“Well,” Senarel looked at me. “Anything to report?”

“Jearl was working for the Mythic Dawn, the cult responsible for the Emperor’s assassination,” I sighed. “I found her cellar - she had another bed there, and the first two volumes of the Commentaries of the Mysterium Xarxes -”

“Wait one second, Commentaries of the Myster-” Burd interrupted me.

“The Mysterium Xarxes,” I answered, pulling the two volumes out of my pack and setting them on the table. “There are four volumes of these books, that make up the canon of the Mythic Dawn cult. They refer to the Mysterium Xarxes, which is said to be written by the daedric Lord Mehrunes Dagon himself.”

Senarel whistled. “Mehrunes Dagon!” he exclaimed. “Is he the one behind these Oblivion Gates that are opening outside cities all across Tamriel?” I nodded. “Gods preserve us!”

Burd only glanced at the younger Imperial. He turned his level gaze back to me. “So you found the first two volumes of these books?” he prompted me. I nodded.

“There was a door in her cellar that opened into a cavern system. I followed that to an entrance on the south side of the mountain, just below the city walls.” I looked at Senarel. “That must be how she got the other woman inside her home. That Dunmer, by the way, is Saveri Faram. She, too, was a Mythic Dawn agent.” I took a deep breath, thinking of the scroll in my pack. Should I show it to them? They need to be aware of the danger Bruma faces.

Reluctantly, I put the warm mug down, and reached into my pack, drawing out the scroll. “I also found this,” I continued. “I need to take this to the Grandmaster, but I think you have to see this too.” I handed the scroll to Burd. He unrolled it and started reading it, while I nursed the klah in my two hands, hunching over its steaming warmth. Burd’s face grew grim as he perused the meaning of the orders to Jearl. When he finished, he handed the scroll to Senarel, meeting my gaze squarely.

“There is no doubt that Jearl was a spy for the Mythic Dawn,” he said quietly. “Do you know what she did in Chorrol?”

I shook my head. “I do know that Weynon Priory, just outside of Chorrol, was attacked by Mythic Dawn assassins,” I answered. “The Prior was killed before the brothers managed to fend off the attack.” Burd regarded me silently, but I offered no further information. He seemed to know better than to ask.

“Hmm,” he said as Senarel looked up from the scroll, stunned. “These Oblivion Gates,” he continued, taking the scroll from his lieutenant’s slack hands and rolling it up before handing it back to me, “how dangerous are they?”

Before answering, I took a sip of the hot klah. “Very,” I said shortly. “They are disks of pure fire suspended between something resembling tusks or fangs rising out of the ground. At least four times as tall as a man - a Nord.” I looked at Senarel’s incredulous expression. “You can see through it, you can walk around it, but if you touch it -” I caught my breath at the memory of my disorienting transition, “- you’re sucked right through into the Deadlands.”

“Mehrunes Dagon’s plane of Oblivion,” Burd commented.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Senarel sat up. “You,” he pointed at me, “you’re the one who went into the Kvatch Oblivion Gate and closed it, aren’t you?”

I didn’t answer Senarel, only looked into my klah.

“Yeah, yeah, you are,” Senarel nodded to himself. “That explains a lot of things.”

I glanced at him, then met Burd’s level gaze. “The Deadlands are not to be traversed lightly,” I continued. “There are enemies everywhere, the land itself is hostile, and the Gate can be closed only by taking the sigil stone out of its source of power. Break that focus, and you destroy the Gate.”

“And what happens to you then?” Burd said, arms crossed on his chest.

“You end up back where you started.” I answered. “Alone.” I shrugged. “At least, no enemies followed me through the Gate, but then, few were left alive.”

We were silent for a few more moments, then Burd uncrossed his arms and stood. “Well, better notify the Guard what to watch for.”

I finished the last of the klah. “Well, if you’re satisfied with my report,” I looked at both Burd and Senarel. Both men nodded. “I’ll be heading back to Grandmaster Jauffre, then.”

“Right, then,” Burd said. “Give my regards to the Grandmaster.”

“I will, Captain.” Picking up my pack and slipping the scroll inside it, I stood. The pack slung at my shoulder, I nodded at the two men and limped out of the barracks.

Peter Brugels greeted me when I limped to the North Gate. “Hello, Julian,” he hailed me. “I heard you had a spot of trouble yesterday.”

“Aye, but your fellow Guardsmen saved my behind,” I answered. “I’m grateful for their accurate aim.”

“Hey, we’re here to protect and serve, ma’am,” Peter said as he pushed the great panel open for me. “Travel safe, and stay away from those Oblivion Gates!”

I laughed, but felt hollow. “I’ll try!” I said as I stepped through. As the gate closed behind me, I sighed. Something told me I had more Oblivion Gates in my future.

Something told me I had more Oblivion Gates in my future.
Gee, I get the same feeling!

The old soldier shows strongly once more, both in her conversations with the two delinquent mages, but also with her conversation with Jeanne, and later with Burd.

It is also good to see Julian's knee acting up still. As someone who suffers from chronic knee problems, I love seeing someone else in the same agony! Seriously though, having a main character with very real physical vulnerabilities like that is refreshing to see in the fantasy genre.

Masterful, Rider! Julian is one cool woman!

What a neatly composed update. The MG recommendation finale was a delightfully light romp. Then back to spies and gates.

Julian's descriptions and assessments of Oblivion Gates were stunningly chilling - and she should know!

I don't envy her the limpy walk back up that cold hill to CRT.

Ooohh! A contest to guess Julian's love!!!! Oh, I'm so terrible at this. I can't figure out 'whodunits' until Mrs Acadian tells me during the closing credits! Hmmm, I have a guess though, perhaps a wishful one. I'm not familiar with Julian's exact age; particularly as it might relate to Redguard menopause. . . . I was kind of hoping that while at CRT, perhaps the seeds for another heir to the Dragonblood could be planted. See where I'm going here? Yup, that is my humble guess.

@SubRosa: I assure you, the knee will be a bum for some time yet. Oh, about four more chapters or so. That old soldier aspect of Julian’s nature caught me by surprise as she was reaming the young’uns a couple of new ones. But I have to admit, I relished writing that scene, especially since they irritated me so much the first time I played the game and encountered them.

@Acadian: You’re not the first one to wish that poor Martin would get lucky. Don’t worry, we’ll learn Julian’s exact age in a couple of chapters! In any case, I think the Septim line ends here. If you read the Lore, the Septims have been holding the Amulet only for the last 400 years or so; previous Emperors are not related to Tiber Septim, so blood relationships are not required to hold the Amulet. Unfortunately it gets destroyed at the end of the MQ, or things might get pretty interesting . . . As for figuring out who Julian falls in love with, I think she might be the last one to know. I had it figured out by Chapter 15, but then, I’m the writer!

A bit long this time, but I hope it's not noticeable. Enjoy Julian's day off!

*******************
Chapter 11.2 A Day Off

The hike up the mountain to Cloud Ruler Temple took the rest of the morning. The pain in my right knee slowed me down, and the chill didn’t help at all. It felt colder this morning than it had yesterday, before I left the heights of the temple. By the time I limped up the stairs, I was shivering, and my jaw felt tight with the pain. Captain Steffan paused on his patrol of the walls to look at me in concern.

“Julian, are you all right?” he asked. “You look like you’re in a lot of pain.”

“Those two were spies,” I answered, more curtly than I intended. I met his gaze regretfully. “I’m sorry, sir. They attacked me, and I had no choice but to run.” I tapped my knee. “And this old thing doesn’t like running.”

“So how did you manage?” he left the question incomplete.

“The Guard is very well trained,” I said quietly. “And their aim very accurate.”

Steffan nodded in satisfaction. “Burd is a good commander,” he said simply. Jerking his head towards the temple, he ordered me inside, out of the cold. “Get some hot lunch, and some hot klah, put your foot up by the fire, and take it easy.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. As he walked away from me, I limped towards the Great Hall. Captain Steffan’s a good commander, himself.

As Jena opened the front door for me, Jauffre called to me from the west wing, “Hail, Julian!” He frowned at my face when I turned to look at him. “Are you hurt?” he demanded. Does it really show on my face? “Get inside this instant!” he ordered, striding towards me and nodding at Jena to hold the door open. At Jauffre’s unspoken command, I entered the Great Hall and limped past Martin to the chair beside the great fireplace.

Jauffre hooked a stool with his foot and nudged it towards me. Gratefully, I slumped back in the chair and put my right foot on the stool, stifling a groan as I straightened my knee. Quickly I cast three healing spells, while Jauffre poured a mug of klah. He pulled up another chair and handed me the steaming mug.

“Now, Julian,” he said, still in that commanding tone, “what have you learned about those spies?”

Martin joined us as I started telling Jauffre what I had learned in Bruma, what Burd had said about Jearl returning from a trip south, about the attack on me, and what I had found in her house. Handing Jauffre the scroll, I sat back and sipped at the hot klah while he read the damning evidence.

“She was at Chorrol?” he exclaimed when he began reading. “She stole the Amulet?” He continued reading, his face blanching as he proceeded to the end. Thoughtfully, he handed the scroll to Martin and regarded me for several seconds. I began shifting uncomfortably under his steady gaze. He sighed.

“Excellent work, Julian,” his tone was softer, quieter. “I knew we could count on you. The gods did not idly choose you as their agent, however you and Martin,” his eyes flickered at the Septim heir seated next to me, “may think.” His eyes turned hard. “It is clear that Mankar Camoran will soon bring all his power to bear against Bruma. I will need to notify the Countess of the danger.”

“I had to give Captain Burd a report,” I volunteered. “He has read that,” I nodded at the scroll in Martin’s hands. “I don’t doubt he will hesitate to make the Countess aware of it.”

Jauffre nodded approvingly. “Nevertheless, I must pay her a visit,” he persisted.

Martin met my gaze. “I was worried when you didn’t come back last night,” he said. “But Jauffre said you would be fine.”

“Oh, I joined the Mages Guild,” I answered. Jauffre stared at me. “One of the shopkeepers told me if I joined a Guild, I would get a free bed in any city in Cyrodiil.” Puzzled by his reaction, I met his gaze. He laughed suddenly, drawing the attention of everyone to him.

“Except for the Imperial City,” Jauffre advised, smiling. “But that was a good move, joining the Mages Guild. It would give you a good cover and an excuse to travel around. Don’t you have to get a recommendation from each chapter head to gain access to the Arcane University?”

“Yes, I do,” I was surprised by the implication of Jauffre’s statement.

“And it will provide an excuse for your traveling all over Cyrodiil,” Jauffre continued. “It seems Emperor Martin has made some progress with the Mysterium Xarxes.”

“Ah, yes, I have,” Martin handed the scroll to Jauffre. I looked closely at him. His eyes were brighter, not so red, and the dark circles beneath them had disappeared. Good, he’s got some sleep.

“I’ve deciphered part of the ritual needed to open a portal to Camoran’s Paradise. The Xarxes mentions four elements needed for the ritual.” Martin tilted his head at me. “So far, I have only translated one of them, the ‘blood of a Daedra Lord.’” He held my gaze. “In fact, daedric artifacts are known to be formed from the essence of a Daedric Lord, from whence they derive their great power. Not an easy thing to come by, obviously, but we will need a daedric artifact. I’d like you to find one and bring it to me.”

Nearly spilling my half-drunk klah, I started at Martin’s words. “F- find you a daed- daedric artifact?” I stammered. “Now where in Oblivion am I supposed to find one?” Catching my breath, I remembered my place. “Sire.”

Martin smiled dryly at my incredulous tone. “The only way to obtain a daedric artifact is through the cults devoted to each of the Daedric Lords. The book Modern Heretics is the best introduction to them. The library here has a copy of it.” His eyes twinkled sardonically as I groaned silently at the thought of more reading. “Remember,” he continued, “the Mysterium Xarxes ritual will consume the physical form of the artifact in order to release its physical power.” He handed me the book he had mentioned.

“Are you sure that’s what the Xarxes means?” I asked. Martin nodded, more somberly this time.

“I’ve learned that the Mysterium Xarxes is both the gate and the key to Camoran’s Paradise,” he explained. “In fact, the book is Camoran’s Paradise. Mankar Camoran bound himself to the Xarxes when he created his Paradise, using dark rituals which I will not speak of further.” His eyes grew dark at some long-lost memory.

“A gate can be opened from the outside, however. It will be very difficult, as I will have to temporarily bind myself to the book.” Now Martin smiled encouragingly. “But I believe it can be done. I will continue working to decipher the arcane items needed for the binding ritual.” He clasped my right shoulder. “I know I lay a heavy task on you, Julian,” he finished. “But you need to rest, and,” he nodded at the book in my lap, “time to get some reading done.”

I turned to Jauffre for help. He shook his head. “I’ll make sure the klah pot stays full and hot,” he offered. “It’ll help with the reading, I know.” He rose to his feet. “Besides, you need to get that knee better before you can travel again. And don’t forget to practice those healing spells!” He walked away from me.

Looking back at Martin, I considered begging off from this latest task, but I saw the weariness still carved into the lines of his face, the care that weighed his shoulders down. “All right, Martin, Sire,” I said quietly. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” Martin rose to his feet and took the now-empty mug from my hand. “You have been truly a friend in need,” he said, moving to the fireplace and refilling my mug. He nodded at Baurus, who brought over a small table and set it at my elbow. “If you need anything, just let Baurus or myself know.”

“I will,” I answered, opening the book Martin had given me. After a few minutes, I took the plunge. I was interrupted when Baurus brought me a plate of bread and cheese for lunch, but soon returned to it after he reminded me to cast a couple of healing spells on myself.

The aching in my knee subsided as I continued puzzling out the words on the crisp parchment. I learned how to identify Daedric shrines, how to learn their locations, and about the Azura shrine high in the Jeralls northeast of Cheydinhal. I’d have to make an offering of glow dust?

Finishing the book, I set it down and mused over what I had learned. I don’t think I want to go will-o-wisp hunting. I have enough problems with goblins and imps. Maybe one of the other shrines will be easier. I wonder which one would accept my offering.

A sudden thought spurred a sharp inhalation. Gwinas! What was it he said? “I’ve visited the Shrine of Sheogorath during the Festival of the Mad! I’ve spoken with Hermaeus Mora beneath the full moons!” Yes, he’d help me, especially after I rescued him from a sticky situation. I had to stifle a chuckle at the thought of the prissy Bosmer shouting “For Lord Dagon!”

I’ll see if I can find him at the Imperial City. Maybe Phintias will know where to find him. Deciding to start my search there, I cast a couple more healing spells, then stood up. My knee no longer stabbed to stand on it, and I took an experimental step. It hurt, but only with a dull twinge. Encouraged, I picked the book up and limped over to Martin’s table, setting the book back on the stack at Martin’s elbow. He looked up at me quizzically.

“I think I have an idea of where to begin,” I said to him.

“You will go to the Shrine of Azura, then?” he asked me. I shook my head.

“I’m not ready to face will-o-wisps,” I answered. Martin smiled and nodded agreement. “I think I know someone in the Imperial City who may be able to help me,” I continued.

“Good, then,” Martin said. “And is your knee better?”

“Better,” I agreed. “I’ll start out in the morning.” I shrugged. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, though.”

“I understand,” Martin responded. “I think you know how urgent things are right now, but like you said, one has to take time to eat, drink, and sleep.” He set the book in his hand firmly on the table. “Speaking of which, I believe it is supper time. Let’s go in the dining hall, and we’ll speak as friends.”

Jauffre joined us in the dining hall, helping himself to the platters in the middle of the table as he sat across from me and Martin. “I see you are walking better, Julian,” he said to me. My mouth too full to answer, I nodded. “Hmph,” he grunted, his own mouth rapidly filling up with food.

“Why is it,” I finally said, watching the others eat with equally ravenous appetites, “that we eat more at higher altitudes?”

Jauffre paused in his eating to consider my question. “I never thought of that,” he said finally. “But it must be the cold. We burn more fuel staying warm in this cold, thin air. That stimulates our appetites in turn.” He pointed his fork at me. “You must observe your own appetite as you go hunting for shrines, and report to me.” He wasted no further time in resuming his eating.

“Yes, Grandmaster,” I replied, smiling. “I will.” I glanced at Martin. “Would I need to do something I wouldn’t otherwise do, Sire?”

Martin considered my question for a few moments. “Yes, you might,” he said finally. “I believe some of the Daedra Lords, like Mehrunes Dagon, are inherently evil, while some of the others just - are.” He looked at me. “Azura is one of the more benign Lords,” he continued. “That’s why I recommended her Shrine. But I understand your reluctance to take on a will-o-wisp at this time.”

Martin leaned back in his chair, twirling the tumbler of wine in his hand. “If you speak with a Daedric Lord, and the task he sets for you is not to your liking, you can always refuse. Sure, you may gain the contempt of that Lord and his coven, but you can’t please everybody.”

After a few more moments, Jauffre rose and stacked his plate and fork on the nearby scratch pile. He turned to us and bowed. “It’s late, Sire, and I’m off to bed,” he said quietly.

“Good night, Grandmaster,” Martin and I murmured together. As Jauffre left, Martin turned to me. “I will study a while longer,” he said. “Perhaps you will, too?”

I thought of the books I had collected so far - The Warp in the West, The Pocket Guide to Cyrodiilic Flora, The Amulet of Kings, Mages Guild Charter, and The Fundaments of Alchemy. “There’s one or two books I’d like to finish,” I answered. “But I should be packing for the trip tomorrow. I’d like to leave at first light.”

“Very well,” Martin rose from the table as well. “If I don’t see you again before you leave, safe travels. May Akatosh guide you and watch over your path.”

“Thank you, Martin,” I stood, facing him. He surprised me by embracing me, then turned away and left the kitchen, Baurus on his heels. With a deep breath, I limped down to the armory, where I had left all my weapons and gear.

It was quite late when I finished my packing. Martin had already gone to bed by the time I returned to the Great Hall. I looked around the vaulted ceiling, seeing again the katanas of fallen Blades hung from the rafters. After a few moments, and three healing spells, I too, went to bed.

Oh Rider, I love it when you feed me while I'm reading. And the chow at the CRT is among the best!

This was great interaction among Julian, Martin and Jauffre.

I was so pleased that Julian decided to pass on seeking Azura's favor and think more along the lines of Sheo. Although she doesn't realize the value of Azura's artifact, her rationale made PERFECT sense from her perspective. Incorporating wills-o-the-wisp and prissy Gwinas into her decision matrix was brilliant. Methinks you are very clever at looking out for our Julian! Very smoothly done.

Lots of travel ahead for the old soldier and her knee. I'm so glad that her friend Paint will be able to help with that.

Edit: Had to pop back in for another cup of hot klah and noticed this:
I'm sure you meant 'thought'?

I love the idea of doing the MG recommendation quests as a cover for Julian doing her Blade work. That is simply brilliant! Having it come from Jauffre makes it even better, as it gives him the opportunity to act like the leader he is supposed to be (something rather lacking in the game).

Julian's reaction to Martin telling her to find a daedric artifact was priceless!

I was thinking Julian might try Azura first as well. You know, you can just buy the glow dust from the Gilded Carafe or Main Ingredient... It is the only way you can do the quest at low levels.

Still, you gave me more than a faint smile to read that Gwinas will be appearing again! Perhaps this time in a larger role than before? I hope so, he was so much fun the first time around. It would be neat to see him doing one of the daedric quests alongside Julian.

I go away for a Birthday and then a run and suddenly there's a mound of new updates, a pleasant surprise indeed. Your description of her knee is very good, almost too good, it seems to be making mine hurt more.

Julian's reaction to being told to find a daedric artefact was brilliant but I think this line:

was even more so, Jauffre seems out of his depth with this, and I can see why. In game it was never really expessed what a ludicrous thing to ask for this was.

Still after your first portrayal of Gwinas I can hardly wait to meet him again.

Anyway good stuff the way you weaved together the seriousness of her main mission and the triviality of most of what happens at the mages guild was very good. I still think she really wants to go the the shrine of Sheogorath and give him a good dressing down.

Great stuff, keep it coming.

Still limping along here, lol! I will catch up eventually.

I guess I am the only lucky one here at the forum. Melbourne is bitterly cold (well when I am sitting in front of my laptop and not moving that is!) and I have the fantastic Bruma storyline to read through.

The wind, the cold, yes sir I can relate to that. Makes me want to go find the Minestrone soup...

Reading this story cannot be the same for you bikini wearers!!

EDIT - Caught up at last. Julian at the Bruma MG was absolutely delicious. The way you described Jeanne was so perfect, the bouncing of the toes, ha, ha. Great. I really thought she might wear out the floorboards there.

When Julian paid out on the boys for using a prank I thought I was listening to my mother there. I even sat bolt upright as Julian took them both on at the same time. Wow!! That Julian is one strong woman if she can make me do that from the other side of the world.

I always have fun searching for J'Skar by myself. Sometimes I find him at the bottom of the stairs invisible, other times he is sleeping in his bed. I love the way he tells me to get lost because I am ruining everything. Lol. Did you consider throwing that into the story? Jeanne would have really gone off then!!


Actually the Bruma MG does have one Glow Dust sitting on the table downstairs. It does save the time and effort of buying it at the IC. I always pick it up when I do the MG quest there. One time I even accidently mixed it by mistake in my pestle. Boy, did I look stupid that day.

I have just finished Chapter 10.7 and I can’t wait to finish the rest to comment.

As always your writing is excellent. And, after a dressing down like the one received by Volanaro and J’Skar (can you say ‘buzz-kill’, Julian?), I think it’s only fair for me to take the opposite track:

“Come on, Miss Frasoric, it’s called a ‘Dispel Other Spell’! Volanaro sells one for Mara’s sake! If you are so inept that all you can do is summon scamps then Volanaro and J’Skar are right to give you the business, especially given how you act! Like Julius said in Remember the Titans, ‘Attitude reflects leadership, Captain!’”

All due respect to both you and SubRosa haute, but personally I am a bit disappointed in Julian. I have never seen her so judgemental. She is not an ‘officer’ in the Mages Guild. Hell, she is not even qualified to be considered a ‘grunt’ yet. She is a 'fresh off the snow' newcomer who walks into the Bruma Guild and within a few hours time she is dressing down two of her fellow mages. She was in Frasoric’s company for two minutes and her distaste for the woman was almost palpable. Volanaro and J’Skar have to live there. It’s easy enough for Julian, she gets her recommendation and then it’s off to the next chapter house. It seems that someone who is so familiar with complaining about a pilus would have more empathy for the mages under Frasoric.

Edit: Okay, so now I’m all caught up again. I enjoyed Julian’s report to Burd and Senarel and I echo Acadian’s comments. I also like the fact that Julian at least felt a pang of remorse for being so hard on Volanaro and J’Skar (though I still find her condescension towards them slightly out of character).

I have to withdraw my recommendation of Jauffre as Julian’s potential significant other. The man is just wound too tight for his own good! Seriously, I have always imagined that she and Baurus would eventually get together, but only you really know.

I love the part where Martin tells her to just refuse if the task set by the Daedric Prince is one that doesn’t sit well with Julian. That’s right, let’s make an enemy out of a Daedric Prince. Sheogorath makes it rain flaming dogs on the village of a bunch of Khajiit! Molag Bal orders you to stand still while a man beats you to death! And Mephala orders you to kill the patriarchs of two families! Why? Because they are bored . . . imagine what they’d do if they were moved to hate someone!!

I was also going to mention the portion of glow dust in the Bruma Mages Guild, but Winter Wolf beat me to it.

@Acadian: Yes, I’m sure Julian agrees the chow at CRT is among the best as well. Thanks for the nit. Muscle memory is still a problem for me, I see!

@SubRosa: I always felt that Jauffre kind of fades into the background once you get Martin to CRT - I feel he should be more of a commander than they let him be in-game. Could be something to do with the fact that he becomes non-essential after a certain point in the MQ. I’m glad you’re looking forward to seeing Gwinas again.

@Olen: I figured you were off celebrating your birthday in style when you went AWOL over the last few days. I’m glad you had a good one, but sorry to hear about your knee. Jauffre strikes me as more Julian’s kind of fighter - trust your own sword more than magic. Going off on a wild goose chase to find artifacts is a bit hare-brained for this old soldier. As with Rosa, I’m glad you’re looking forward to seeing a certain prissy Bosmer again.

@Wolf:I see from weather.com that you’re currently in the 40’s and 50’s (Farenheit). Tell me, how can that compare to Bruma? I figure Bruma’s average temp is about 30 degrees above zero in the summer, and more like 40 below in the winter (judging from the constant snow cover, and yes, it snows less when it’s colder). Your mom must be a hell of a woman (pardon my French), and has my respect! As for finding J’skar without going through the prank, I’ve only done it with my Dunmer character (she already had the detect life spell). It would never occur to Julian at this stage to look for glow dust in the MG, so that wasn’t included. If she had known to ask you for advice first, the outcome might have been different!

@Destri: You have done it again! You have spotted the flaw in Julian’s character! Yes, she is judgmental - she has not learned to look at people from a viewpoint more forgiving than the Legion’s. After spending much of her life in the military, civilian life (and civilian habits) confounds her from time to time. This is one old habit that will die hard.

Julian heads down to the IC, but first gets sidetracked at a certain village. This is one for all you Paint fans out there (you know who you are!).

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Chapter 11.3 Invisibility Village

Paint’s hooves clattered to a halt when I asked him to enter the village of Aleswell. He braced his legs under himself and threw his head up, ears pointed at the communal garden in the center of the settlement.

Following the direction of his gaze, I spotted a hoe suspended in mid-air, moving in a weeding motion through the pumpkins. How in Oblivion is that possible? A bulky shadow, thrown long by the westering sun, wielded that of the implement.

With a pat for Paint on his tense neck, I dismounted and dropped his rein. “Stay here,” I said to him quietly. I watched the garden a moment longer, recalling Atellus’s words - “Nice inn there, though I haven’t seen anyone there for a while. I’m starting to hear stories from travelers that the place is haunted.”

“Well, don’t stand there staring!” a rough voice greeted me from the garden where the hoe paused in its work and raised to a vertical position. “We’re not a minstrel’s freak show here!” Behind me, Paint shifted uneasily, turning his head back toward the road.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I answered hastily. “It’s just that I’d like a place to stay tonight, but Paint is scared. I’m just trying to figure out why.”

“Ach, talk to Diram!” the voice - sounds Orsimer - grumbled as the hoe returned to its work. “He’s in the inn.”

“Thanks, sir,” I responded. I picked up the rein and coaxed Paint to walk past the garden. He did, head up, prancing at my shoulder to keep me between him and the invisible Orc. When he followed me to the weathered inn perched on the cliff edge at the far side of the garden, I praised him for his courage and trust. Once he was standing quietly in front of the inn, still watching that moving hoe, I fed him an apple from my pack. He snatched at the pieces nervously, but ate it nonetheless.

He nearly took off again when the inn door opened behind me, and only stopped when he stood at the end of the rein. Trembling, he shot wide eyes in my direction.

My hand clutched on the rein, I turned to look behind me. Again, I saw nothing, only a long shadow standing next to mine. “Hello, traveler,” a male voice with a Dunmer accent greeted me from that direction. With a deep breath to quieten my pounding heart, I backed up until Paint’s breath blew hard on my neck, stirring my ponytail. “I’m sorry to startle your horse, ma’am, but we’re in a bit of a sticky situation here.”

“I see, sir,” I responded. See what, exactly? “I think. You’re not all ghosts here, are you?”

“Ghosts?” the voice repeated. “Oblivion no! We’re all very much flesh and blood, like you and your frightened horse. We think it’s that damned Ancotar’s fault!”

“What happened, sir?” I asked, my heartbeats slowing down with the continued conversation.

“We suddenly became invisible several weeks ago,” the Dunmer answered. “It was pretty fun at first, but now the novelty has worn off.” His tone turned aggrieved. “Travelers have stopped coming here, and that’s bad for business. We’ve been hoping the spell will wear off, but now we’re out of patience.”

Paint’s breath slowed on my back, and his ears pricked forward at the voice. I could feel him stretching his neck forward, his nose nudging past my shoulder. A glance at him showed the white surrounding his dark eye, but his nostrils were fluttering.

“Oh, I believe your horse is smelling the carrots in my hand!” the Dunmer exclaimed. “Here,” his voice moved closer to me, and I felt something nudge my hand. Paint dropped his nose, blowing forcefully. Moving my hand away, I shook my head.

“Best you give him the carrot yourself, sir,” I said quietly, running my hand down Paint’s arched neck. “He needs to realize that you mean him no harm. You don’t, do you?” I added at a sudden thought.

“Of course not!” the voice exclaimed indignantly. Paint mouthed at thin air, and a bit of orange appeared briefly between his lips as he took a crunching bite. “He’s a good boy, your paint,” the Dunmer added approvingly. “First horse not to spook and run away since we all became invisible.”

“This is Paint, sir,” I offered. “I’m Julian, from Anvil.”

“And I’m Diram Serethi, innkeeper,” the Dunmer responded. “That’s Shagoth gro-Bumph there in the garden.” As Paint took the last of the carrot from Serethi, I heard the sound of hands brushing on fabric. “That’s all, Paint.”

Paint stood more relaxed, and the white had diminished from around his eye. He remained alert, but no longer appeared anxious to flee. Scratching his neck just above his withers, I smiled at him when he sighed disappointedly.

“You said it was Ancotar’s fault, sir?” I turned back in Serethi’s direction. “How so?”

“Ancotar’s a mage who took up resident in the ruins of Fort Caractacus a few years ago,” Serethi responded. “He’s caused us no end of inconveniences with his magical experiments. But this is beyond inconvenience!” I could hear the anger seeping back into his placid voice. “We tried to find him, but no such luck. He’s hiding from us, I’m sure. No wonder!”

Glancing back at the garden, I regarded the hoe, still working away. With Orsimer muscle behind it, that innocuous tool could become quite the deadly weapon. I had a sudden image of pitchforks and hoes floating into the ruins of a fort, carried by angry shouts, but no visible wielders. No wonder Ancotar hid from them.

“Where is this Fort Cara-” I blanked on the rest of the name.

“Caractacus,” Serethi offered helpfully.

“-Caractacus, sir?” I managed to get the tongue-twister out.

“It’s just to the southeast of here,” Serethi answered. “Down at the end of that path,” he indicated the faint dirt trail at the side of the inn that dived down the cliff face. “There are invisible monsters infesting the ruins!”

“The whole village is invisible?” I turned back to Serethi.

“Aye, even our sheep are invisible!” the Dunmer exclaimed. “Look over there! See?”

Somehow I had the sense that Serethi was imperceptibly pointing somewhere. Looking around, naturally I saw nothing of the invisible sheep. What I did see, were a few tattered cottages, thatched roofs covering wattle-and-daub walls, and a sheepfold off to the east, near the Red Ring Road.

“Fool!” gro-Bumph growled from the garden gate, where the hoe rested on its blade. “The lady can’t see where you’re pointing, let alone the sheep themselves!”

“Oh, of course,” Serethi’s abashed tone reached me.

“That’s all right, sir,” I assured him. Stepping to Paint’s side, I reached up and took down the Kvatch Wolf from the cantle. “I’ll go and talk to this Ancotar. You said he is a mage?”

“Yes, he is,” Serethi responded. “You’ll help us? A stranger off the road?”

“Why not, sir?” I said. “I’d like a place to stay for the night, and I don’t like the idea of being surrounded by people I can’t see. Maybe I can get Ancotar to reverse the spell.”

Ales well that ends well, I always say. (sorry, could not resist the pun).

This is a nice little diversion from the seriousness of the main quest. I especially liked how you handled Paint's spooked reaction to the invisible people. Quite a brave horse he is though, considering all the others fled! Good for Paint!

I’m Diram Serethi
For a moment I thought it was Sarethi, and that you had worked in some kind of a Rales crossover.


nits:
breath to quieten my pounding heart
looks like a typo on quiet.