Well I've caught up, there's certainly a lot of this now and it remains as good as ever, better even. I shan't comment on individual parts rather on the overall shape of things. I like the way you deal with the endless dungeon delving in game, while it could get far too repetitive you avoid that but stay true to game well. Fort Blueblood was a good example, avoiding the details and going straight to the important bit, Kalthar, made Julian's reactions all the clearer and avoided repetitive fighting to focus on her thoughts at killing another mage.

Likewise only giving description of the interesting gates, makes them seem more important and stops too much solo action slowing things down (which oddly is what all that action would do...). It's the characters and their interaction which are the really interesting stuff, as it should be. Seeing how Julian will deal with new people and places (I am very much looking forward to Anvil) is the real joy of this piece because she's so real. More so than just a 3d character she seems like a fully fledged person, and with the supporting cast of excellent side characters she really shines.

I'm also noticing that she is still developing, in the last few chapters she seems to have rediscovered her legion side which had only peaked through before, while also becoming increasingly able to do magic. She's certainly becoming more formidable, far more smoothly than the game would have it but again it reinforces that this is close to the game.

On that note one chapter I will mention was chapter 15 which was a joy to read, not being tied to events really gave the characters a little space to show.

I could continue... like paint who is so much more than quick transport...

But I'll leave it with SGM.

Funny, I always think of Lord Drad’s ogres too.

Imagine you’re an ogre. You’re walking through the woods, minding your own business when you come across six ‘ogre sized’ tubers that someone has just left out to rot in the sun. These things seem to have your name on them, which is something that you would recognize if only you could read. Nevertheless you decide to take them because if you leave them where they are they are just going to rot. You carry them to a small clearing where you plan to settle down to a hearty meal and a good night sleep. Suddenly, some white-haired human is whistling at you. Being an ogre, your first thought is that those potatoes would taste great with some human . . . you aren’t really predisposed to second thoughts. So you charge, as ogres do, little knowing that the human is not alone. Another sneaks up behind you and they are both carrying those sharp, shiny sticks that you hate so much. One on one you might stand a chance, but against both at the same time they are able to wear you down by darting in and out like humming birds. You finally expire, your last thoughts being that you are sorry you didn’t at least get to taste a potato, and that you hope that the loincloth which your kind are at least intelligent enough to wear remains clean.

I think I had as much fun reading this chapter as you had writing it, hautee!

@D. Foxy: I presume you speak from experience?

@mALX: Somehow I just knew you were going to loooove this chapter segment!

@Acadian: Lerus was initially wondering why the hell are we doing this when we’ve got bigger tasks ahead? But then her Legion training took over and she stepped up. I’m glad you liked seeing her in this segment. I hope you like seeing more of Lerus in this segment.

@SubRosa: I was thinking salad dressing too! But Hidden Valley was too appropriate for that out of the way place that winds down from the Lake to Bravil. And you can take the five-bells shadow if you like! I tried to show S’jjirra as a very agitated feline. Believe me, I see this behavior all the time in the clinic.

@Olen: Welcome back! You and your wonderful insights have been sorely missed, but I figured RL got in the way. I could say I’m sorry for leaving so much material for you to catch up on, but somehow I get the impression you didn’t mind. And yes, I am so looking forward to Anvil too, but there’s the matter of Paint, and the musical beds and wayward zombies and a certain eccentric alchemist in Skingrad . . .

@Destri: It looks like you had as much fun writing your critique as I did the chapter segment! It’s funny, but I was seriously considering writing that particular quest from the ogre’s point of view as a short story! You have summarized my thoughts so succinctly it’s almost moot to write it now.

And now we wrap up Chapter 20. The funny thing is, I thought I would wrap the entire MQ up in 20 chapters when I started this. But it has grown into something a bit more epic, and I’m thinking this will go another 20 before Martin’s ultimate sacrifice . . . I hope that doesn’t scare people away!

*******************
Chapter 20.5 Tied Hands and Potato Bread

S’jirra insisted on buying us supper. Once she made certain Abhuki had provided Lerus and I with a hearty meal, she disappeared with her jumbo potatoes. The innkeeper, another Khajiit female, shook her head at us. “Likely she’s gone to make morre of that potato brread of herrs,” she grinned toothily at us. “It’s a good thing Alix is nearly done with that brran mash forr yourr horrse.”

After we finished the supper of barley beef stew, roasted vegetables and sliced melon, I left Lerus beside the fire with a tankard of mead while I went out to check on Paint. Lencolia was leaning against the wall, watching the gelding as he slurped up the warm bran mash from a wooden tub. “Hullo,” he greeted me. “Thanks for getting S’jirra out of my hair.” He chuckled softly. “She’s a sweetheart, and I love the dear, but she can be a bit batty where her potatoes are concerned.”

I ran my hands over Paint’s smooth coat, feeling the dullness and the protruding bones. He picked his head up from the mash, bits dribbling from his mouth, and waggled his ears at me. My heart sang when he lowered his nose back into the tub. “Thank you for doing this, Lencolia,” I kept the tears out of my voice. “I guess I’m a little batty myself where Paint is concerned.”

“Ah, but he’s a living breathing creature that can feel pain,” Lencolia pushed himself from the wall and stepped to Paint’s opposite shoulder, patting him gently. “Where S’jirra’s potatoes are, well, inanimate.” He met my gaze over Paint’s back in the torchlight. “Will o’wisps are deadly creatures, indeed, and Paint is lucky to have survived.” His handsome face grew serious. “But I doubt he’ll ever regain that vigor that Wildeye Paints are known for.”

I remained silent. I’m sorry, Prior Maborel. I didn’t take as good care of Paint as I promised you. The tub clattered as Paint nosed through the corners after the last bits of mash. Satisfied that it was as clean as he could get it, Paint stepped back and swung his head to me. I rubbed his long nose, smiling in spite of the sadness I felt. The gelding took another step back and turned away, dropping his nose to the lush grass at his feet. The sounds of his large teeth tearing at the green stuff nearly brought tears to my eyes.

“Still, he is making progress, if he wasn’t eating well before,” Lencolia moved to stand beside me as we watched the horse graze. “At least he is not in pain anymore.”

“Will I ever be able to ride him again, sir?” I asked. Lencolia shrugged.

“Not for months, at least,” he met my gaze. “It’s best to find a place with good grazing and a person who will provide excellent care.”

“I have someone in mind, sir, someone Paint likes very much. He lives in Weye.” Please take care of Paint, Merowald.

Lencolia turned his face skyward, to the stars above us. “Then it should be an easy walk for him, once you get back up to the Green Road.” He clapped my shoulder. “Paint should be fine for the night. I’ll make him more mash in the morning before you leave. Come in and have a drink.”

“Make it water, please,” I murmured, giving Paint a last pat on his rump. He snorted without pausing in his grazing.

Tumbler of cool water in hand, I joined Lerus beside the fireplace, my aching feet stretched toward its warmth. She met my gaze. “How is Paint?”

“Eating, ma’am,” I responded. “Which is a considerable improvement over yesterday.”

“That’s good news,” she lifted her tankard at me. After a hearty swallow, she sighed. “As crazy as it sounds, it felt damned good to be helping someone in need for a change.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Remember Aleron Loche?” I nodded. “I knew gro-Dragol was up to something illegal. I wanted to detain him for interrogation, but I had a standing order from the Count to never interfere in that Orc’s affairs.” Lerus met my gaze. “How familiar are you with the command structure of the City Guards?”

“I know the Captains are Legion, ma’am” I answered, thinking of Burd and Draconis. “The rank and file are usually locals, or Legion recruits that didn’t quite make the cut for provincial or solo duty.”

“And the Captains answer to the Counts and Countesses of their jurisdictions. But if there’s a conflict of interest between the Count and the Legion, the Captain can then go to the primus legate of the Legion.”

“Adamus Phillida?” I thought of the commander. I had never met him, but knew of his status as the Legion primus legate. As far as the Legion was concerned, he was just one step below the Emperor. Lerus regarded me over the rim of her tankard as she took another draught of the mead. Her gaze wandered around the common room, then she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

“I’ve been trying to gather evidence of the skooma trade and gro-Dragol’s illegal activities in Bravil for a few years now,” she murmured quietly. “But the Count has obstructed me at every turn.”

“Did you apply to Phillida, ma’am?” I matched her tone.

“That’s just the thing. I’ve sent messages, but I’ve never heard back from him.” Lerus met my eyes. “Until now, I couldn’t get away to go to the Imperial City myself.” She looked back down at the tankard in her hands. “I think the Count sent me with you to get rid of me. But it can be a blessing -”

“You’ll try to see Phillida on your way to Bruma then?” I echoed her posture, so we could talk in whispers. “Do you think he’s ignoring your messages, ma’am?” Lerus shrugged. I considered her a moment longer. “Or the messages are not getting through at all. How have you been sending them?”

“By Legion courier,” Lerus answered. “Furio assures me that he has delivered every message I sent with him, but I’m not convinced.” She drained the last of the ale. “I brought copies of every report I’ve sent over the last two years.”

I considered Lerus thoughtfully. Why is she telling me all this now? If she has copies of those reports, she’ll get to the bottom of this. Or is she afraid those reports won’t be enough? “Do you want me to go see Phillida with you, ma’am?” I asked. “I can tell him about gro-Dragol, and about seeing Gellius Terentius in the skooma den.”

“The skooma trade is more than just gro-Dragol,” Lerus told me. “He was hired to handle the transfer from pirate to shore. But someone else is running the skooma operation in town.”

I met Lerus’s gaze. “Who?”

“Do you remember -” Lerus paused as Abhuki approached us with a pitcher of ale. We shook our heads at her in unison. When she withdrew, Lerus set the empty tankard on the nearby table. “Do you remember how you became addicted to skooma?”

“Akatosh,” I half-groaned. “I’ve tried hard to forget that. Ma’am.”

Lerus looked away. “I’m sorry, Julian. But it’s important, else I wouldn’t have asked.”

“I know, ma’am,” I shook my head, sifting through fogged memories. “I had just been thrown out of the Lonely Suitor for harassing the customers. The pain was very bad, and all the drink I’d had wasn’t enough. Someone came up to me, a grey-haired Bosmer. He offered me a drink of something. I was in too much agony to notice what it was, but I certainly noticed what it did for the pain.” I leaned back in my chair, stretching out my feet. “Later I begged him for more, and he set me up in the den above Carandial’s house.”

“Anything else you can tell me about the Bosmer?” Lerus asked.

“Just that he lived above The Fair Deal, ma’am,” I answered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you any more information.”

“How certain are you of those memories?” Lerus held my gaze.

“Pretty certain, ma’am,” I glanced up at the beamed ceiling above our heads. “That happened when I was relatively sober between binges.”

“You’ve given me enough,” Lerus assured me. “There is only one grey-haired Bosmer male that lives above The Fair Deal. His name is Nordinor.”

************************
The next morning we woke to the most wondrous smell I had ever experienced. The odor of fresh-baked bread drew me downstairs, where S’jirra bounded over to me. I cringed, expecting another furry kiss, but she settled for throwing her arms around my waist and hugging me tightly. “Oh, I can’t thank you enough. But let me give you a loaf of my Nirn-famous potato brread!” She shoved a warm package into my hands. Cautiously, I unwrapped it to discover a round crusty bread, its aroma coursing through my nose and warming me from the inside out.

Before I could thank her, she had bounced to Lerus, who had just descended the stairs behind me. I noticed that Lerus swayed away from the ebullient Khajiit and hid my smile. As she had done with me, S’jirra hugged the Bravil Captain and pressed another cloth-wrapped package into her hands.

Abhuki gave us a few slices of the bread along with some honey to drizzle on it for our breakfast. I sampled it without the honey, and was stunned at how delicious it was. A glance at Lerus’s face indicated she shared my surprise.

“I guess it was worthwhile recovering those jumbo potatoes after all,” she muttered around a mouthful of the bread. “It certainly makes up for getting kissed by fuzzy lips.”

Are you kidding h.e.r? I would read this story for another hundred chapters! I love it.

I'm glad paint will be okay. I just hope that he gets to weye safely

This has become my favorite chapter so far. Julian's rapport with Lerus was totally natural and easily visualized - and gave a foreshadowing of a subplot - YEAH!!!!!!

Woohoo! Not only a solid dinner, but a yummy breakfast as well:


I'm glad to see Paint is getting better and at least eating well now.

Oooh, a mystery. Why are Lerus' reports to the Legion being ignored, assuming they are even getting there? The plot in your Bravil thickens! The Count, the orc and now Nordinor. Does the Count's influence reach high into the Legion? I'm anxiously staying tuned!

It is amazing how these stories can grow completely beyond the scope you originally intended is it not? When I started the TF 2.0 here at Chorrol I had planned to write a few new chapters to tie things together between some of the old ones. But I have written at least as much new material as I had at the Beth forums! Probably more.

Once you really get to know the characters, they begin to take on a life of their own. They start going down paths you had not thought of, and demand that their little side-adventures be told. What can we do but follow? It is like when a cat jumps up in your lap and goes to sleep. You are just stuck there for as long as they decide to stay.

But back to today's segment. I see Paint is indeed improving, with quite the healthy appetite! That is indeed heartwarming, as he has always been one of my favorite characters in the JF.

And we finally see a bit more under the helmet concerning the Bravil captain and the crime within her city. Most intriguing. I wonder if it is the courier who is not delivering Lerus' reports, or maybe some clerk or aide at Phillida's office?

Julian was thrown out of the Lonely Suitor? I shudder to think of how bad you would have to be in order to be tossed from that dive!

“It certainly makes up for getting kissed by fuzzy lips.”
It sounds like Captain Lerus does not like kissing men. Teresa will have to look her up when she gets to Bravil...

This episode shows your talent for creating characters that live and breathe. S’Jirra is the most obvious, with her endearing feline tendencies. But even the ogre gains some… not “humanity,” exactly- but “personality”- from your capable writing. Also of interest is the way Captain Lerus and Julian are able to work together effectively. Apparently, despite Terentius, they do not pick their guard captains out of a box of Cracker Jacks.



Have to love the dry, understated humor.

Will comment on the new post when I have time to read.

Well, considering that I am the person who has taken an entire year to describe the events of two months and (almost) seven days, I can tell you without hesitation that I might be a little disappointed with only twenty more chapters of Old Habits!

Both you and mALX have taken Alix Lencolia, a man whose fame for his swordsmanship (leave it alone, Foxy!) is widely known, and transformed him into a sensitive soul who rarely even holds a blade, let alone using one. I imagine that all of those years honing his skill has bred a world weariness within him, and all he wants to do is live out his remaining days in peace. Isn't it ironic then that he demands that your fame be high enough to deign to train you. Especially when the achievement of said fame usually requires killing folks.

My own feeling about the mystery surrounding Lerus' reports goes right back to the Count. We know from Julian's last stay in Bravil that this particular Count has dealings with the Dark Brotherhood. We also know that the DB Matriarch and Listener dwell (if that's the right word) within the walls of the city and that they consider Phillida to be their sworn enemy. It isn't hard to surmise that they would go to great lengths to block any reports leaving Bravil bound for Phillida's desk.

That conversation was spot on. The interaction between Julian and Lerus is very well done, there's so many level to it lurking beneath the surface from their past encounters which are all there and I'm still far from sure either particularly likes the other yet. It feels as though Julian doesn't like the memories of Bravil Lerus brings up and Lerus feels slightly threatened (or perhaps inadequite) next to Julian, so while they would get along as people their own issues come between them. That conversation felt like them over coming it a bit (and really packed in the character and interactions of them both).

I'm rather enjoying this Bravil subplot, make me wonder if there might be more OHDH after the main quest end...

It is so good to see Paint regaining his spirit and interest. Even if he will never be completely well, progress is progress. And Julian’s care with her own health, as regarding avoiding alcohol, shows awareness and strength of character.

And speaking of strength of character- Captain Lerus is appears in a better light.



Your concept of the guard captains being Legion and the guards themselves local recruits is one of those excellent, sensible innovations you seem to create in almost every post.

And we begin to delve into the secrets of Bravil- and of Julian’s addiction. I have to wonder if there was more to it than just hooking another customer…



At least S’jirra had not just eaten a cricket before she kissed them!

Once more; I really miss the twirl smiley to express on how I feel about Paint getting better. Ah well, this will have to do
I also love the slowly improving relationship between Julian and captain Lerus.

Oh no, I go away for a month (or was it two? ) and find my favourite character in the WHOLE world is recovering and will struggle to be his old self...
Still, I am overjoyed to see that he is eating again and I do hope the luster in his coat starts to come through again.

Awesome to read your take on S'Jirra and Alix. That little hamlet seems to have a real life of its own.

Furry kiss!? Aaargh, that does sound horrible.

GAAAAH!!!!! What's goin' on here? NanoNano stole Naughty Haute !!!!!!! GAAAAAAAH !!!!!!!!! 5 days...KA! KA! .... GAAAaaaah ... * mALX expired in front of PC *

@Doommeister: I'm glad you're lovin' this!

@mALX: Subplot? What subplot?

@Acadian: I almost forgot that I hadn't fed you in a while! That's why I slipped those two meals in. I hope they made up for your enforced starvation!

@SubRosa: Well, there's always clean-shaven men . . .

@treydog: Regarding crickets and kisses, why oh why do I get the feeling that Princess Ms. Juneipurr is guilty of that social faux pas?

@Destri: You took the words right out of my thoughts!

@Olen: Old Habits will Die very Hard . . .

@Remko: Thanks for continuing to read!

@Wolf: LONG TIME NO SEE!! Paint was ready to give up out of loneliness - he missed his snow-lovin' buddy!

No story post this time. I actually wrote the bulk of OHDH back in January - March; Chapter 19 was written through the summer months, and Chapter 20 in September. I've not written since. So what happened was that the well of chapters have run dry. For the moment. Julian is too busy reading other fan fics to harass me about hers, so I'm focusing on Nano for now. Come December, though, we'll see. I have no intention of abandoning this, especially since I still have Anvil and Sancre Tor to write!

If between now and then Julian comes back to me and tells me more of her story, I'll post it right away for you to see. Promise! But my posting will become more irregular, I suspect.

Thanks all of you for your ongoing support of Julian and Paint and their friends.

(Most) women are all clean-shaven too.

Oh Noes! the well has run dry! Now we have to wait to see who Julian hooks up with. Will it be the blackguard pirate? Burd? Frederick of Bravilwood? Alves? Or the soon to be sainted Martin himself? She has someone in every town!

Totally understand, Rider! Take your time. I somehow know that you are nowhere near done treating us to Julian's adventures. If it takes a long while between updates, consider leading your next episode with a short summary from the author to warm us all right back up to the action.

I can totally identify. I have been having the same problem with Interregnum. When the well runs dry, all you have to do is leave it alone and it will fill up again. Take your time with Old Habits, we aren't going anywhere. Keep kicking a$$ with your NaNo novel!

I'll be waiting. Let's hope that well fills again.

At 215,000+ words to date, this is now officially the longest story I’ve ever written! Julian and I have finally returned to her tale. After a well-deserved break, we have sat down together over several pots of spiced tea to work further on her story. Thanks to all who have been reading this magnum opus. I have noticed that we have a lot of new members joining us here at Chorrol recently, and hope that they feel welcome to enjoy this journey of Julian’s and mine. If any of you would like to start at the beginning, the links to the previous three threads are in the first post of this thread.

The story so far - Julian has left her years of pain and addiction behind and is now a Blade sister, functioning as a secret agent. She is traveling around the county seats of Cyrodiil on behalf of Countess Narina of Bruma, requesting support from the other county leaders to continue closing Oblivion Gates outside the northern city. So far, Julian has succeeded in obtaining the assistance of the Count of Cheydinhal, though Count Caro of Leyawiin was less forthcoming. She has obtained the assistance of Captain Lerus of Bravil, but no other troops from the City on the Bay. However, she has promised to help Captain Lerus in her investigation of the corruption in the Bravil Court however she can. The first step consists of stopping in the Imperial City to report to the primus legate, Commander Phillida of the Legion.

***************
Chapter 21.1 The primus legate

Those steel-grey eyes bored into Lerus’s carefully blank expression. “What reports? I should be asking you about those reports! What in Oblivion makes you think I’m interested in how much the price of fish rose or fell on the city docks!”

Both Lerus and I stared at him. “I beg your pardon, sir,” Lerus managed to keep her voice calm in the face of Adamus Phillida’s icy censure. “I sent weekly reports detailing illegal activities in Bravil just as you asked me.”

“Decius!” Phillida shouted. The old centurion limped in from the outer office. I hid my wince at the reminder of my own erstwhile handicap. “Bring me the Bravil reports!”

“Yes sir,” Decius clapped his gnarled hand on his breastplate. “How far back would you like to go?”

“Six months would be adequate,” Phillida’s voice returned to a more normal level. The centurion turned and hobbled out. The primus legate’s gaze flickered at me where I stood to one side, then returned to Lerus. “I sent you to Bravil with orders to report to me on how the Count is handling illegal activities in that city. All of your reports to date contain only innocuous details such as how many arrests for drunk and disorderlies were made each week, and how many citizens filed complaints of petty fraud. I’m beginning to think you’re slacking off, Lerus.”

She squared her shoulders at Phillida’s cold words. “I have sent no such reports, sir.” I could hear the slightest hint of doubt in her level tone, however. “Honestly I have no idea what you are talking about, sir.”

Decius returned, a basket full of scrolls in his arms. I moved to take the basket from him. He grinned cannily at me and jerked his head toward the wide desk standing between Phillida and Lerus. As I set the basket down with a quiet clatter of the messages within, Decius reached past me and drew out the topmost scroll. “Here is the most recent dispatch, sir.”

Phillida indicated that Lerus should take it. She accepted it from the centurion’s hands with a nod and unrolled it onto the table. As I watched, her face turned to alabaster as she read the missive.

“Do you deny sending that report?” Phillida demanded.

“Yes, sir!” Lerus’s voice rang off the stone walls of the cluttered office. “I never wrote this - this - Minotaur crap!” She slammed the scroll down and shot a glance at me. I understood her unspoken message and reached down for her pack, resting on the tiled floor at my feet. Lerus took the bag from me and set it next to the basket. She found the dispatch she sought and held it to Phillida. “This is a copy of the original dispatch I sent on that date.”

Phillida’s glacial eyes moved from Lerus to the scroll she held out to him. He accepted it and opened it. Muscles striated the edges of his lower jaw as the primus legate scanned the words within. Lerus and I waited until he finished reading the dispatch. His eyes on the table, Phillida rolled the scroll in his weathered hands. “Decius,” his quiet voice matched his averted gaze. “Who is the Legion courier on the Green Road?”

“Titus Furio, sir,” Decius answered crisply. “He’s been on the route for the past six years.”

“Time to reassign him, don’t you think?” The question was more rhetorical, as Phillida didn’t meet his adjutant’s gaze. “Get me the Inspector General.” This was a command.

“Sir!” Decius slammed fist to breastplate before leaving the office. Phillida lifted his gaze to Lerus as he leaned an elbow onto the left arm of his curule chair. Again she stiffened beneath his steady eyes.

“How far back do these copies go?” Phillida gestured toward the pack.

“Four years, sir,” Lerus answered. “Since I was posted to Bravil.”

“And what prompted you to keep copies of every dispatch you sent?” Phillida drew another scroll at random from the pack and unrolled it on the desk.

“When I first arrived at Bravil, and the Count mentioned Furio by name.” Lerus’s voice resumed its crisp diction. I stood back and listened, fascinated, as she recounted how her suspicions were triggered by Count Regulus Terentius’s familiarity with the Legion courier, something she had not witnessed elsewhere. She’s right. I’ve never seen nobility be on first-name basis with lowly Legion soldiers, either, unless they had good reason.

“I see,” the primus legate mused, his eyes moving over the scroll. “Give me a brief summary of what you’ve found so far.”

I stepped back into a dim corner near the entry as Lerus recounted the events of the past few years. My feet braced shoulder width apart, my hands clasped behind me, I stood at ease while I listened to the Bravil Captain’s accounting of her investigation. She’s thorough, but there is nothing there that can be considered evidence. I felt my eyes widen at a sudden thought. But she has evidence now. Evidence I gave her. Evidence of gro-Dragol’s Hunter’s Run. But does that lead anywhere? No, not to the skooma trade or the black market smuggling with the pirates. And now that Orsimer is dead, he won’t be leading Lerus anywhere. I didn’t help her cause by killing that fetcher. I closed my eyes.

I recalled the request I had made of her nearly a month ago. I had not had the chance to look over the missive Frederick had brought me before I left Bravil then. Where did I put it? In my house here in the Waterfront. Now would be a good time to look at it. I wonder if Adanrel’s brother would be on that list? What was his name? Aden of Silvenar? Yes, that was it.

“- several of the victims that disappeared at Fort Grief had grievances against Count Terentius,” Lerus’s even voice brought me back to the present. “The most recent, Aleron Loche, had filed a petition with the county Court concerning maltreatment by his son Gellius.” I blinked at the words. That fetcher Gellius. Aye, he was one for trampling on the downtrodden. When he was sober, that is. Wretched Aia. Cosmus the Cheat. Reenum. City-Swimmer. Even me, before I was hooked on skooma.

“And where is this Kurdan gro-Dragol?” Phillida growled. “It’s time to bring him here, let the battlemages have a go at him.”

“He’s dead,” Lerus answered. “gro-Dragol made the mistake of bringing the wrong victim to Hunter’s Run.” She turned around and waved me out of my corner. I obeyed with the old crispness of my Legion rank of pilus prior. Phillida’s cold eyes narrowed at me as I stopped beside Lerus with a whisper of mail. His gaze moved from the Wolf on my chest to the katana at my left side to my white hair.

“This is Julian of Anvil,” Lerus nodded at me and turned back to the primus legate. “She went to Fort Grief to find Aleron Loche at the request of his wife Ursanne. Instead she ended up shutting down Hunter’s Run.”

Adamus Phillida’s face took on a thoughtful cast as he regarded me. “Julian of Anvil?” he repeated. “Have you always gone by that name?”

“Yes, sir,” I answered.

“Hmm -“ If Phillida was about to say something more, he was interrupted by the return of Decius.

“The Inspector General, sir,” he announced before stepping aside to let the tall man behind him enter.

I resisted the impulse to salute the big Nord as he strode into the office. Clad, like Phillida, in the argent and gold armor of the Imperial Palace Guard, Marcus Camillus was as bulky and imposing as I remembered him. Where Captain Burd was tall and lean, in the way of most soldiers, Camillus filled the room with his presence, physically as well as with the force of his personality. The red-edged black cloak swirling from his wide shoulders did nothing to hide the massive musculature I recalled so well.

My right arm twitched at my side as I barely suppressed the automatic salute his arrival triggered. It’s been how long -? Five years? Almost. His blue eyes swept over Lerus and me before he greeted the primus legate with a crisp salute of his own.

“Inspector General Marcus Camillus reporting as ordered, sir.” His quiet voice brought back memories of distant avalanches in the snow-covered mountains of Skyrim. Again he regarded us, his gaze lingering on me a little longer than I liked.

“I know you’re busy with the investigation into the Mystic Dawn,” Phillida’s own presence no longer seemed so impressive next to my old commander. “But something has come up that requires your tactful attention.” He gestured toward Lerus. “This is Captain Viera Lerus, whom I sent to Bravil four years ago.”

“I remember the case, sir,” again distant avalanches reverberated softly through the office as those blue eyes met with Lerus’s own glacial gaze. She averted her gaze with a salute. “And did you accomplish your mission, Captain?”

“No, sir,” Lerus replied, her own voice holding on to its confidence by a thread. “It has been quite the challenge.”

Again those Skyrim-blue eyes returned to me. “And I remember the Solstheim case as well,” he added, addressing me. “You acquitted yourself admirably well there, Julian of Anvil.”

“Oh, yes,” Phillida turned his gaze to the ceiling while I struggled not to squirm under Camillus’s steady gaze. “The Eastern Empire Company corruption case. No wonder you seemed familiar, Julian of Anvil.”

I kept my gaze level with Camillus’s cleft chin beneath that bristling sandy mustache. “Yes, sir, I am responsible for that case,” my voice managed to stay even. I sensed Lerus’s startled glance at me.

“I had heard that you were no longer fit for active duty, Julian,” Camillus rumbled at me. “How is it you stand in front of me, wearing the mail of Kvatch, with an Akaviri katana at your side, as fit as the day you entered my service?”

“It’s a long story, sir,” I answered. “And a long, hard road to get here.”

“Sometime when this damned crisis is over,” Camillus’s words drew my gaze to his eyes. The white crows-feet, more prominent in that ruddy face than I remembered, crinkled at me. “You’ll have to tell me over some ale at the Bloated Float.”

“Are you buying, sir?” Lerus inhaled sharply at my quiet answer, while Phillida stared at me. “’Tis a long tale, sir,” I added.

Camillus chuckled, the avalanches in his voice sounding even nearer as he clapped my shoulder. “I think I have enough drakes saved up!”

Yay! the Interregnum of Old Habits is over, and Empress Haute Rider has resumed the Ruby Throne!

Lots to like here as we meet Old Man Phillida, and what appears to have been Julian's former c.o. as well. Your tie in with Solstheim and Blood on the Moon was very nice, and worked in seamlessly.

It was very observant of Lerus to be suspicious of the Count after she learned he knew him by name. Not just of Counts in general, but Terentius in particular does not seem to be the kind of person who cares to know the names of any of his servants. I doubt he even knows the name of the guy who wipes his butt.


nits:
That honoured user Gellius.
I see the forum is handing out undue honors to characters again...

“And where is this Kurdan gro-Dragol?” Phillida growled. “It’s time to bring him here, let the battlemages have a go at him.”
This made me shiver!

I am so happy that you and Julian are bringing us more of her story! I like to read through every post multiple times, and each time I get more out of it. When Marcus Camillus strode into the room, he became instantly alive to me. Yay Julian and haute ecole rider!

And we all have more than enough interest saved up! Hooray for your continuing the story!!!

Welcome back to Julian and her Rider!

I'm pleased that you preceded this episode with a short review to warm us all up again. Then you included plenty of carefully crafted flashing back to help even further. I feel fully up to speed - which for me, says a lot!

I must heartily agree with SubRosa that Lerus was very astute to cue in on how Count Bravil treated the courier. Also, I quite adored how you tied Julian back to her guest appearance in dear treydoggie's story!

I also endorse Grits' observation of Camillus. He captured the room upon his entrance - wow!

Like Julian, I am perplexed that the wonderfully satisfying act of killing Kurdon, now seems to be a bit of an impediment. I look forward to finding out if the four folks in that room can render a military solution to a problem laced with nobility and, no doubt, politics.

Well done!

I love how deep the description is

Welcome back! (and it's about time !!!)

@SubRosa: Thanks for the welcome back and the nit. I’m still blushing at being called the Empress. Guess I now know how Julian feels about the Hero of Kvatch! I’m glad you liked how I portrayed Phillida as the Old Man. His obsession with the Dark Brotherhood will appear in the future, but for now, the Oblivion Crisis is in the forefront of his thoughts. Thanks for the compliment for my nod to treydoggie’s story. He has done a wonderful job with Julian there. And you are so right about Count Terentius’s suspicious behavior in front of Lerus when she first reported to him. That honoured user got by me once again! Thanks.

@Grits: Thanks for your kind words. I’ve been enjoying your tale of Jerric as well. Have you ever read Interregnum? Destri’s depiction of Hoag Merkiller was my inspiration for Marcus Camillus. I promise that when Julian finally arrives in Anvil, we will see more of her past.

@Foxy: Thanks for the welcome back! Julian has missed Dhertee Innu Endo more than she thought she would!

@Acadian: Yes, that quandary of that killing Kurdan gro-Dragol rears its ugly head now! Julian knows that there is more to lawkeeping than just killing the bad guys. The problem’s figuring out which is the small fry that you want to keep alive to go after the big fry. I think that is a big part of her commitment to helping Lerus gather the proof she needs to shut down Terentius’s illegal operations. For now, the Oblivion Crisis takes precedence, but the Bravil Crisis will eventually gain its own moment in the Legion’s spotlight.

@Zalphon: Thanks for the kind words!

@mALX: Thanks!

After reporting to Phillida, Julian and Lerus spend a long day in the Imperial Legion headquarters in the Prison District. Finally they retire to the Feed Bag in the Market District for a late dinner and some drinks.

*******************
Chapter 21.2 In the Feed Bag

Lerus leaned back with a replete sigh. Stripped bones, traces of thyme-seasoned gravy and tender crumbs were the only evidence of the herbed mutton, roast vegetables and fresh bread that now filled our stomachs. She stretched her legs beneath the table as the serving varlet cleared away the dishes.

“I don’t know about you, but that Inspector General Camillus certainly knows how to interrogate someone without torture!” Her sigh reflected Lerus’s exhaustion after hours of debriefing.

I hid my grin behind my tumbler of water. He’s the one that taught me what I know about information gathering. “His adjutant isn’t much nicer, ma’am.” Gnaeus Murrius had spent the entire afternoon walking me through my experiences with gro-Dragol and the Hunter’s Run. His incisive demeanor had resembled that of his commander so much that if I closed my eyes, I sat in front of Camillus again. Though I knew I had committed no crime, Murrius had made me feel guilty of something.

“Tell me something, Julian,” Lerus took a deep swallow of her ale, then burped quietly behind her free hand. “How is it you know the Inspector General?”

“He was my last commanding officer in the Legion, ma’am,” I responded. “I was pilus prior in his Ninth Cohort.”

“That’s right, you were in the Sixth,” Lerus’s gaze grew thoughtful. “And you investigated something for him?”

“A promising young Legion soldier was accused of corrupt activities in the East Empire Company in Solstheim,” I answered. “I was sent there to look into the charges.” My gaze moved to the water swirling in the bottom of my pewter tumbler. “He was cleared of all wrongdoing.”

“So that’s how you knew the kind of report to give,” Lerus mused. “When you came back from Fort Grief, I was impressed by the details you were able to provide from memory.”

“I learned from the best, ma’am,” I murmured softly.

“Well, I have to meet with the Inspector General again tomorrow,” Lerus continued. “I hope it doesn’t take much longer. I’m anxious to head up to Bruma and provide my assistance there.” She grinned lopsidedly at me. “You could call it a vacation from my duties at Bravil.”

I scoffed silently. “I can think of better places to have a vacation, ma’am.” Lerus chuckled at my acerbic rejoinder. “And better things to do than closing Oblivion Gates.”

“I remember what you said about the Deadlands,” Lerus’s green eyes grew serious. “It sounds scary enough, I wouldn’t want to go in there by myself. I still don’t know how you do it.”

I shook my head. “There was a time when I wouldn’t dream of going someplace like that without my cohort, ma’am.” I drained the last of my water. “And in the first few Gates, my knees wouldn’t stop shaking the entire time!”

“And now?” Lerus met my gaze. “Do your knees still shake?”

I considered her question for several moments. “When I taught the Bruma guardsmen how to close a Gate,” I said finally, “it was more nerve-wracking for me to watch out for them. It was like taking a century of rookies into a goblin dungeon all over again.” I shook my head. “Bor and Soren were incredibly brave, though. I think they were more scared than I was the first time I entered the Deadlands!”

Lerus regarded me silently, then set her tankard down gently. “I’ve heard things about the Bruma Captain. What do you think of him?”

“Burd?” I lifted my brows at her. What sort of things? “He’s a good commander, has a close rapport with his men.” I considered my interactions with the tall Nord. “The people of Bruma seem to like him well enough, for all that his manners are more Imperial than Nord.” I fell silent at a sudden thought. Two Guard Captains in the same place? No, three - Cheydinhal sent their Captain as well. Will there be some serious head-butting there? Have we created a greater problem within than without the city walls? While Burd had seemed easy-going with me, placing me in charge while we closed the Gate outside Bruma, he had made it clear that the Guard was his to command.

“Don’t worry,” Lerus had sensed something of my doubt. “I won’t play Captain in someone else’s town.” She smiled at me. “Like you, I know how to lay low and do my job.”

“I think you’ll get along fine with Captain Burd, ma’am,” I answered slowly. “It’s the Cheydinhal Captain I’m not so sure of.”

“Indarys sent his Captain too?” Lerus repeated. “Ulrich Leland?” She shook her head. “I don’t know much about him, but I’m surprised that the Count sent him.”

“And a full century of the city Guard,” I added. Lerus stared at me, her tankard halfway to her lips.

“Indarys sent a full century to Bruma? And his Captain?” She shook her head. “I’m posted to the wrong town,” she muttered more to herself than to me before taking another swig.

“Just be glad you didn’t get posted to Leyawiin,” I could not hide the grumble in my voice. Again I endured Lerus’s steady gaze.

“Caro didn’t send any help at all?” She shook her head. “I had heard about his provincialism, but that’s going too far.”

“That’s because he never served in the Legion,” a familiar voice brought our heads up from our drinks. I locked gazes with grey eyes in a weatherbeaten face topped by a fringe of close-cropped light brown hair. “Hello again, Julian,” he greeted me with a smile. “Mind if I buy you ladies a round?”

“Hello, Forenze,” I greeted him with a glance at Lerus. “Ale for her, and water for me.” I waved him to the empty chair beside us. He signaled to the serving varlet before obeying my gesture. “Lerus, this is Claudio Forenze, of the Fifth. He patrols the Temple District here in the Imperial City.” I turned to him with a warning in my eyes. “This is Captain Viera Lerus, of the Bravil City Watch.”

Forenze nodded respectfully to her. “I see I’m outranked here, ma’am,” he remarked. “But what brings you so far from your posting?”

“Count Terentius sent her to represent Bravil at Bruma,” I answered. “I’ve been tasked by Countess Carvain to ask her fellow patricians for reinforcements.”

“Really?” Forenze turned his steely gaze to me. “Only Captain Lerus?”

“That’s what we were just talking about,” Lerus accepted the new tankard from the varlet with a nod of thanks. “By comparison, Count Caro sent nothing.”

“Nothing?” Forenze repeated. “Well, like you said, his provincialism knows no bounds.”

“And if he had served in the Legion,” Lerus countered, her green gaze steady on Forenze, “the outcome would have been different?”

“Nothing like a few tours in the provinces,” Forenze grinned at his play on words, “to broaden one’s outlook.” He slid a sly glance at me. “Right, Julian of Anvil?”

“The Legion’s not the only way,” I responded. “Though I admit it has broadened mine, all right.” I met his gaze. “But to the best of my knowledge, Count Indarys has never served in the Legion, yet he has shown the best response so far - a full century of Cheydinhal Guardsmen led by Captain Leland.”

“Well,” Forenze rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I know that Indarys is a member of House Hlaalu in Morrowind. Hlaalu made their fortune in trade, so I would expect them to be less - well, provincial - than the other Dunmer Houses.”

“And he immigrated to Cyrodiil,” Lerus added. “So he’s been around quite a bit in his life.”

And here I thought it was because I rescued his son from that Oblivion Gate. I kept my thoughts silent.

Forenze turned to me. “So, Julian,” he lifted his tankard to me in salute, “I hear you closed a few more Gates.”

I shrugged my shoulders. Lerus regarded me with a small smile on her lips. “More than a few, I’d say,” she remarked softly to Forenze. “Let’s see, the one outside Kvatch that we all know about, the one outside of Bravil that Count Terentius wouldn’t let me scout, two outside Leyawiin, one at Bruma, and one at Cheydinhal.” Again she eyed me, counting off the gates. “Then we passed one near the Inn of Ill Omen that was already closed.”

“Seven by my count.” Apparently Forenze had been keeping count along with Lerus. “And my friend Marc Atellus told me she closed two along the north side of the Red Ring Road. That makes nine.” He turned his grey eyes on me. “Is that all of them, Julian?”

Hiding my face in my tumbler, I shook my head. There’s three more along the roads they don’t know about. Yet. After swallowing a mouthful of the refreshing liquid, I lowered my tumbler to see stunned amazement on their faces.

“Just how many have you closed so far, Julian?” Forenze asked. I shrugged.

“I still have three more cities to visit.” The swirling water in my tumbler echoed my thoughts. “More than likely I’ll have to close nearby Gates before their Counts and Countesses will agree to send reinforcements to Bruma.”

“And have your knees stopped shaking yet?” Lerus repeated her earlier question. I met her gaze.

“The day my knees don’t shake when I’m in the Deadlands, that’s the day I die,” I replied.

Forenze slapped the table with his hand. “That’s more than the Legion’s been allowed to do!” he exclaimed, ignoring the stares from the other patrons in the tavern. “Yeah, we’re spread thin right now, what with gates opening in all the provinces as well. The Televanni are managing to close them in Vvardenfell, but more keep opening up. Over in Summerset Isle, the wizards are studying them. Studying them! I’m surprised they haven’t had a Kvatch there yet!” His eyes blazed argent in the dimness. “And we have one right here on City Isle, yet the Watch isn’t allowed to leave the city walls and do something about it!”

My dismayed heart dropped like a lead weight. “There’s one on City Isle?” I asked him. Forenze nodded. “And the Fifth can’t sally out?”

“We’ve increased patrols here due to refugees from besieged cities,” Forenze replied. “Bravil, Cheydinhal, Chorrol, Anvil, even Skingrad. While some Bravilians have returned, the others, as well as several from Cheydinhal, have refused to return home. They say what’s to keep more gates from opening up?” He sighed, all the fury gone as suddenly as it flared. “Petty theft has gone up, and most of the inns are full. Tiber Septim in Talos Plaza still has a few rooms open, but I think it’s mainly because they’re too expensive for the refugees.”

“I see the problem,” I mused. “The thieves and con artists here in the City must be having a field day.”

“At least there have been no more mysterious deaths,” Forenze met my gaze. “Thanks to you.”

Two Guard Captains in the same place? No, three - Cheydinhal sent their Captain as well. Will there be some serious head-butting there? Have we created a greater problem within than without the city walls?
This is a wise observation. How long before all the roosters start loaf of bread-fighting?

And here I thought it was because I rescued his son from that Oblivion Gate.
Oh I'm sure that had nothing to do with it!

A good dinner that brings us up to speed on the events in the story. Not only of the results of Julian's work to recruit help for Bruma, but also explaining that the Legion appears to be doing nothing in Cyrodiil because things are falling apart everywhere in Tamriel. The part about the Altmer studying the gates was perfect. It sounds so like the image of the elves from Summerset!

This was a pleasure to read. A yummy dinner with conversation that ranged far across Tamriel. I enjoyed the magnitude of the crisis you portray and thought it was a wonderful touch to see that there are others attempting, and in some cases, succeeding in closing other gates. I agree with the lady of the faint smile that having wizards 'study' the gates was a fabulous thing to bring out!

I can't help but like the Viera Lerus you portray. You have really brought her a long way. I like how she endorses that on Burd's turf, he should be in charge.

It's been awhile since we heard about the vampires of The Imperial City, but it sounds like things worked out ok for Roland. I hope I have correctly identified that you are referring to this now tied up loose end?

Speaking of loose ends, thank you for deliciously back filling us on her investigation into dear Athlain!

Hmm, let's see. Bruma, Cheydinhal, Leyawiin, Bravil. . . . Time to head west?

As has been said the wizards studying them was a stroke of genius, made me smile (and being honest if strange firey gates started opening study would be the first thing to happen). The characters are all excellently formed, I'd almost forgotten what a joy this piece is to read

The interactions in 21.1 were very well done, they served to highlight the differences between Julian and Lerus well. Though Julian has been down low she has regained a lot of confidence and stood up to questioning more than Lerus. Things like that really make your characters breathe.

So good to see this going again, I look forward to reading more .

And 215k! That's impressive.

@SubRosa: After hearing countless rumors (I love eavesdropping in the game, it’s funny how rumors get recycled from one conversation to another) about Oblivion Gates in other provinces, I thought it was high time to bring it into Julian’s fiction. When I got to thinking about it, I realized that the Altmer wizards in Summerset Isle would be more likely to study the darn things than try to close them! That comment on Forenze’s part came so naturally!

@Acadian: Sorry you missed the dinner, and only saw the rumors of it! I always thought it stupid in-game that a low level PC character can close those things, but no one else could? So I’ve been trying to provide a natural progression in other people closing the gates. In game they say the Telvanni wizards have not succeeded in closing the gates, but I like to give them more credit than the developers apparently did, so I have them being partially successful. Yes, that last comment of Forenze’s refers to Julian’s handling of the whole Seridur/Jenseric mess. You may recall that he was the one that gave Julian tacit approval to enter Jenseric’s house way back in Chapter 14.7 (thread 3). I’m glad you like how I’ve been developing Viera Lerus. She is one of my favorites of the minor NPC’s. And yes, Julian will be heading west soon.

@Olen: I figured the Summerset wizards would be more like modern-day scientists in RL! While I love science, sometimes their fixation on studying and research (rather than action) leaves me a little baffled! I think your comparison of Julian and Lerus is pretty spot-on. I’m glad you’re still enjoying this!

In the game, whenever I play the MQ, I almost never close the IC gate, or see Chancellor Ocato, since he doesn’t send anyone to Bruma. But here, Julian doesn’t know that, and is thinking maybe the Legion can help out a little bit. But it never made sense for a nobody to get in and see the High Chancellor himself, and it made more sense (to me at least) for Julian, being former legion herself, to go to the highest ranking Legion officer and ask him for aid instead.

***************************
Chapter 21.3 The High Chancellor

Phillida cast his sharp gaze over the Kvatch Wolf on my chest, freshly repaired and cleaned after my thirteenth foray into the Deadlands. “Is there any way I can talk you into signing on with the Legion as an independent agent?” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You’ve been invaluable to us in your own way these past two months.”

I shook my head. “I appreciate the compliment, sir,” I replied. “But I have other commitments that precede your offer.”

“Ah, yes, reinforcements for Bruma.” Phillida nodded to himself, shuffling papers on his desk. “And I know what you are hoping for, coming here like this. But Julian of Anvil, I’m sorry to say that we just don’t have the manpower to spare.” He met my gaze levelly.

“Then you understand why I can’t sign up with the Legion, sir,” I returned his stare. “I’ll have to continue helping people where ever I go.” I took a deep breath. “I hope you realize that I won’t do anything counter to the teachings of Akatosh.” My right fingers rubbed the faded dragon on my left forearm, hidden by the mailed sleeve. Phillida’s sharp gaze didn’t miss the gesture, however.

As he inhaled slowly to respond, Phillida’s gaze moved to the doorway behind me. He stiffened suddenly at what he saw. I turned around as Lerus stood back against the wall, her head bowed and her right fist at her breast.

An Altmer, clad in scarlet brocaded robes, brown hair slicked back from a tanned face, stood in the open doorway. “Is this Julian of Anvil?” His brown gaze moved from me to Phillida beyond.

“Yes, High Chancellor,” the primus legate’s words told me the reason for the sudden deference. Belatedly I bowed my own head and mirrored Lerus’s salute.

“As you were, all of you.” Ocato’s light tenor released us from our obeisance. I looked up to see those brown eyes steady on me. “Julian of Anvil, I have heard much of your activities these last several weeks. How is it you come to serve an Emperor who is dead?”

How much do I tell him? “Emperor Uriel served the Nine, sir,” I recalled the words the old man had spoken to me beneath the Imperial Prison. “In his honor, I continue to serve Akatosh, the father of all the Divines.”

For the briefest instant grief darkened Ocato’s eyes, then his gaze cleared. “You could not choose a better role model to follow,” he said quietly. Something in his voice told me he knew more about me than I had let on. “And now you are on a mission for Countess Narina Carvain?”

“Yes, sir,” I inclined my head in response. “She seeks reinforcements for Bruma.”

“Why?” Ocato asked, his gaze turning sharper than Phillida’s most glacial look.

“There is evidence that Bruma will be the next Kvatch,” I answered. “If the Mythic Dawn manages to open three gates simultaneously in front of the city, it will allow them to open a Great Gate, the same one that destroyed Kvatch.”

“Bruma is a modest county on the edge of Cyrodiil,” Ocato mused thoughtfully. “Why there? Why not here, at the Imperial City?” His slanted brows drew together in a scowl. “With the Dragonfires out, what’s to stop them from targeting the heart of the Empire?”

Is the Imperial City really the heart of the Empire? Or is it Martin Septim? Silence seemed the best course of action for me at this point. High Chancellor Ocato’s very intelligent. He has to be - he’s a battlemage and the de facto ruler of Cyrodiil at this time. Emperor Uriel trusted him for a reason.

Now Ocato’s expression eased. “I see you know the answer, but choose not to divulge it. Whether that is a wise choice on your part remains to be seen.” He tilted his head at me. “But that is not why I came here. I came to see Uriel’s newest Champion for myself.”

Newest Champion? I felt my own brows rise at the Altmer’s words. It is true Emperor Uriel tasked me with delivering the Amulet, but that is all he entrusted to me. Everything else -- but did he foresee the path I would tread once I passed the Amulet into Jauffre’s hands?

Now Ocato turned his penetrating gaze from me to Phillida. “Commander, I’m aware that you want Julian of Anvil to rejoin the Legion. While I don’t doubt that the Legion would benefit immeasurably if she were to accept your offer, Commander,” he inclined his head at me before those omniscient eyes returned to Phillida, “I have reason to believe that Cyrodiil has greater need of her as a free agent answerable to no mortal.”

What? But I answer to Grandmaster Jauffre and Martin Septim! I bit down on the thought before it escaped my lips. But I can’t let anyone, even High Chancellor Ocato, know that I am a Blade sister, or that a son of Emperor Uriel remains alive.

“I’m not sure I understand, High Chancellor,” Phillida shook his head. “But if you say so, then I defer to your greater wisdom.”

“Every decision that Julian has made since that fateful night two months ago,” Ocato avoided the glance I shot him at the reminder of Uriel’s assassination, “has been to the greater benefit of Cyrodiil and its people. I do not doubt her dedication to Akatosh and his tenets.” He turned back to me with a slight bow. “Thank you for closing the Oblivion Gate on the east coast of City Isle. Now I must leave. I have much to do. But I am certain we will meet again, Julian of Anvil.” His brocaded robe shimmered as he turned away and disappeared from the doorway.

Lerus and I stared at each other in silence. Her stunned expression mirrored my own feelings at Ocato’s words. Phillida’s harrumph drew our attention to him.

“It’s not every day that the High Chancellor comes all the way here to my office,” he grumbled, almost to himself. He met my gaze. “Julian, I really wish I could help you on your mission. If it was only Bruma that is threatened by these gates, I would send a Legion or two to Carvain’s aid. But with gates opening everywhere within the Empire, I just can’t take the chance that the Mythic Dawn will exploit a weakness somewhere.”

Now his gaze moved from me to Lerus. “Ordinarily, I would order you to return to Bravil and continue your investigations there,” he continued, addressing the Captain. “But under these circumstances, it’s the least the Legion can do to allow you to carry out your Count’s order and head to Bruma as soon as you can to lend your sword.”

Decius entered with a knock on the door jamb. “Commander, a report from one of the riders on the Red Ring Road.” He held a scroll out to Phillida.

“Ah, which one?” Phillida answered his own question by unrolling the scroll. “Laterensis Maro. Ah, yes. Five contuberii of the Leyawiin City Guard are on their way north?” His gaze lifted to meet mine. “How in Oblivion did you convince Count Caro to part with some of his precious Guard?”

I stared back at him. “I - I’m not certain, sir.” As I stammered a reply, my memory brought back my own words - Mehrunes Dagon will be defeated. When Tamriel looks back on the greatest crisis that we have ever faced, how will history consider the Count of Leyawiin? “I only appealed to his vanity, sir.”

Phillida smiled tightly at me. “I wonder if High Chancellor Ocato already knew about this when he said you work best on your own.” He shook his head and returned his gaze back to the parchment. “And Captain Lerus, you have a few contuberii of your own, led by a Mirko Frederick, waiting for you in Weye.”

“What?” Lerus’s response was a muted exclamation. “How in Nirn did that happen?”

“Now, Frederick’s not your second, is he?” Phillida asked, handing the scroll to Lerus.

Her gaze on the parchment, Lerus shook her head. “No, sir, it’s Hans Thalberg.” Something in the way she spoke the name indicated her strong distaste for the man.

“Not exactly on the up-and-up, is he?” Apparently Phillida had noticed it too. “And Frederick?”

“He’s as good as they come,” Lerus set the scroll down on the desk thoughtfully. “Could it be -?”

“It seems that Count Terentius is getting rid of all those honorable elements in his Guard and keeping only those already in his pocket.” Phillida rocked back on his heels, his gaze on the ceiling. “It fits in with what you’ve already found out about the situation in Bravil. When this Oblivion Crisis is over -“

“That will be a matter for the Elder Council, won’t it?” Lerus asked. “And if so, what can be accomplished?”

“In spite of Count Caro’s narrow-mindedness,” Phillida’s gaze flickered in my direction, “he is not the least contributor to the Empire’s coffers. Count Terentius has always been most difficult concerning his obligations to the Elder Council. It is just a matter of time.”

Lerus and I exchanged glances. Is the Legion angling to replace Count Terentius with someone a little more - principled? Who? Will there be a shakeup in the Elder Council?

“Now the two of you get out of here,” Phillida returned to his customary growl. “I have too much work to do here, and not enough hours in the day and night to do it!”

The speculation of shake up in the governing forces in Cyrodiil at the end of this chapter are intriguing !! Great Write!

but did he foresee the path I would tread once I passed the Amulet into Jauffre’s hands?
I have always imagined that yes, he did see it all, or at least hope for it all.

But I can’t let anyone, even High Chancellor Ocato, know that I am a Blade sister, or that a son of Emperor Uriel remains alive.
I am afraid I really do not understand the reason for this, or for Julian hiding her being a Blade from Phillida? It is like a CIA agent hiding their affiliation from the Vice President or Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The Mythic Dawn knew about Martin from the beginning, that is why they attacked Kvatch after all, and are planning to attack Bruma rather than the Imperial City, so it is not like she might be divulging secrets to the enemy if either is a double-agent. Unless Julian believes that Ocato and/or Phillida would want to assassinate Martin to seize power for themselves?

Is the Legion angling to replace Count Terentius with someone a little more - principled?
Like a certain white-haired Redguard perhaps?

nits:
Julian, I really wish I can help you on your mission.
Perhaps you meant could here?

I like the edge of political intregue. Julian is clearly apart from it but it still spills over a bit, I sense that this might well become a bigger element once the more immediate crisis passes. I also like how Julian went to Phillida rather than Ocato, it fits better with her character and makes more sense to see the legion commander rather than the de-facto head of state.

West... well that means two places, both of which should be fun.


Good way of mentioning that she had closed the gate with the minimum of words. It reinforces Julian's modesty about closing them and draws attention back to the characters and plot (unlike the game where they were generally a tedious distraction).

I liked how you portrayed Ocato. He is often kicked around, but you seem to show him in a reasonable light. After all, as Julian seems to point out, I presume he was trusted by Uriel and didn't get to his position by being a fool. I like it!

I also like what you are doing with Count Bravil. If you want to see which of his guard force have some honor, it seems one merely has to see who he is transferring away with the excuse of the Oblivion Crisis.

And Marius Caro comes through! Now, if we could only get him to take his Countess over his knee!

Goodness, the countryside is now filled with contuberri! That is some sort of pasta, right? Oh, Rider, I love it when you feed me. Yum!

Heh. Seriously, your writing continues to feel rich, tight and immersive.

So, taking the Countess with his knee feels rich...tight...and immersive...???

with...

HIS KNEE???!!!???

Even Alessia Caro might find that a tight fit...

I think Alessia Caro might find the head of a pin a tight fit!

*ducks and runs*

@mALX: Yes, I figure once the Oblivion Crisis is over, there will be a shakeup in the political organization of the Empire. After all, what’s going to happen with no Emperor? Are conditions ripe for a revolution? I do think so.

@SubRosa: Julian does not yet know what High Chancellor Ocato or Phillida knows, so she would rather they not find out from her! And she can’t let on that she is working for Martin. That’s why she is using the Countess of Bruma and the Mages Guild recommendation as her cover while she is working her way toward Sancre Tor. But Ocato is smart, and he is already asking the question why Bruma? He’s not the only one! As for replacing Count Terentius, I can assure you that Julian says no way! Thanks for the nit!

@Olen: Yes, westward ho. Two and a half places, actually. By this point in the MQ, Julian has actually become sort of matter-of-fact about how many Gates she has closed. The Deadlands still scare her, but she is getting used to its quirks and twists. I’m glad you liked the way I handled the IC part of the MQ.

@Acadian: I’m glad you like what I’m doing with some of the NPC’s in this game. I’ve always liked my villains to be smart and crafty, even likable, rather than some big, scary bogeyman that you just want to get rid of because he’s just in the way. I guess that’s why when Dagon finally makes his appearance in the MQ, I felt let down - like - this is it? Some thirty-foot high four-armed red Neanderthal waving a few clubs and axes?? Because we never really saw Sauron in LOTR, he was scarier to some degree! Oh, and it's my mistake. I just rechecked my research, and it's contubernium/contubernii, not contuberium/contuberii. I'll have to go back through my earlier posts and fix them!

@Foxy: Welcome back, Dhertee Innu Endo!

@All: For those who are not familiar with the Roman Legion, a contubernium (plural contubernii) is the most basic unit of the Legion. It consists of eight men who share a tent. Ten of these contubernii make up a century, or 80 men (not 100, as is commonly supposed). A cohort is made up of six centuriae, while a legio (aka legion) consists of 10 cohorts. That’s the organizational tree I used for the Legion - contubernium - century - cohort - legio - Legion. I hope this clarifies things for those who may be confused. A more detailed discussion can be found here.

After leaving Lerus with her contubernii at Weye, Julian says farewell to Paint and heads out on the Gold Road. First stop: Skingrad. A most interesting town, indeed.

***************
Chapter 22.1 Captain Dion and the Skingrad Gate

Roseate sunlight poured through the thinning canopy of the Great Forest as I hiked up the steep ridge that bordered Skingrad on the east. The thought of spending the night at the Mages Guild in the highland city drew me on. It had been a long day’s march since I parted ways with Lerus and her guardsmen at Weye, and my back ached from the pack that seemed to grow heavier with each step.

Having Paint has spoiled me. I’ve quite forgotten how to march twenty miles a day with my full gear! I smiled to myself. Paint had watched me leave him behind at Weye, his head over the top rail of the fence that enclosed the little paddock as I walked westward. I comforted myself with Merowald’s promise to tend to the gelding’s needs as long as I chose to leave him there.

But maybe I should return him to Weynon Priory. After all, he belongs to the Prior, and that place has been his home for ten years. But with Jasmine and Red both at Cloud Ruler, Paint may be quite lonely at the Priory with only Brother Piner and Eronor to care for him. Should I bring him back to Cloud Ruler? But that’s a hard walk into the mountains, not to mention the cold there. And Paint’s not as hardy as he used to be.

I decided to make my decision on my return to Weye. Until then, I’ll just have to hump my own gear. It’ll be just like when I was in the Legion.

As the lowering sun dropped behind the ridge, I recognized the black and red thunderheads typical of another Oblivion Gate. That’s right at the top of the ridge. Must be just south of the road. I haven’t seen Venturius yet. He hasn’t tangled with those daedra, has he? I sighed to myself. The Legion rider that patrolled the eastern part of the Gold Road between the Red Ring Road and Derelict Mine had been noticeable by his absence during my long walk. And now with the sun setting, the goblins would be coming out from Derelict Mine to ambush travelers along the road.

At the top of the ridge, I stopped to catch my breath and scan my surroundings. Smoke drifted up into the dusky sky from trees burning just south of the road where it turned north to descend the ridge. To the west, Skingrad’s crenellated battlements loomed black against the roseate afterglow of the setting sun.

Past the burning trees, I could see red surcoats of the Skingrad Guard moving through the gathering gloom. Overhead, the clot of thunderclouds rumbled and flashed blood-red lightning.

“Hullo, Julian,” Venturius’s voice reached me as his bay clip-clopped up the ridge from Derelict Mine. “I was wondering when you were going to show up.” He drew his bay to a stop beside me.

“Since when has that been open?” I pointed in the general direction of the Oblivion Gate, its flickering shape just visible beyond the burning trees.

“It opened on top of the Kynareth Wayshrine about a month ago,” Venturius kept a grim gaze on the path leading to the shrine. “Dion and Artellian have been rotating their guards around the clock manning the barricades.”

“Dion and Artellian?” I repeated. Venturius nodded.

“Dion’s the Captain of the City Guard, and Artellian heads up the Castle Guard.” His gaze grew momentarily distant. “I think it’s Dion that’s on duty now.”

“A month?” I repeated. “They’ve been holding the daedra off for that long?”

“Yes,” Venturius met my gaze. “They’ve had no respite, and no chance to go in the Gate itself.”

“I see,” I stifled a sigh. “Thanks, Venturius. By the way, I’m glad to see you alive and whole.”

He smiled at me. “That’s good to hear, Hero of Kvatch!” With a slap of his right fist against his breastplate, Venturius smooched at his gelding. The bay started eastward, following the route he knew by heart.

I set foot on the path leading to the Wayshrine. Before I reached the burning trees, I spotted the barricades that blocked further progress toward the Gate. I could feel the growing heat and crackling of energy in the air. Several Guards stood ranged along the barricades, their faces turned toward the portal beyond. I could just make out the shattered remains of the colonnade that marked the Wayshrine.

A slight figure stalked behind the Guards, pausing here and there to speak to one of the men. As he turned to retrace his steps, his gaze caught me standing a few meters away. Brows drew together in a scowl as he strode toward me. The red lightning flashed off his bald pate and highlighted his narrow face.

“I’m Julian of Anvil, sir,” I introduced myself as soon as he was close enough to hear me above the thunder and crackle of the Oblivion Gate. “I’m on a mission for Countess Bruma.”

“Julian of Anvil?” The Guard Captain, his rank signified by the russet cloth tied around his right upper arm, stopped in front of me. “And have you come to tell us how to do our job?”

I took in his gaunt expression, the thick beard blurring his jawline, the prominent shadows beneath his eyes. “Rider Venturius tells me you’ve been manning the barricades for a month, sir.” I nodded at the Gate beyond. “That’s a long time to be fending off the daedra.” His dark gaze wavered slightly. “How many men have you lost so far?”

“Eight men are dead,” the Captain responded bleakly. “And another twelve are laid up in the Chapel infirmary. That’s just the City Guard!” His eyes refocused on me. “I’m Dion, Captain of the City Guard. Do you need anything? Though I don’t know how much we can help you.”

“Do you think your men can man the barricades just a little while longer, sir?” I set my pack down and knelt beside it, detaching Daedra Slayer from its bindings on the outside of the bag.

“What are you proposing?” Dion’s voice turned wary.

I glanced up at him while I unhooked Akatosh’s Fury. “I’ll go in there and close that Gate. You can’t spare the men, and I’m available.”

Relief warred with worry in Dion’s brown eyes. “Are you certain? You’ve been walking far, by the dust on your boots and greaves.”

“I just need to refill my canteen,” I shook the container at my waist, emphasizing its emptiness. “Then I’m ready. It’s been an easy walk today.”

“If you’re tired, Julian, we can hold the line long enough for you to rest,” Dion laid his hand on my shoulder as I counted out my arrows and set the quiver at my right hip.

I shook him off and rose to my feet, buckling Daedra Slayer at my left hip, next to my plain katana. It was a moment’s work to string Akatosh’s Fury and test it for straightness, then I placed it at my back opposite the plain bow. “Your men are more tired than I,” I countered. “Even with the rotation you’ve been doing with the Castle Guard.” I pointed at the Gate. “If your men can keep the daedra from Skingrad long enough for me to close the Gate, you’ll get your reprieve soon enough.”

“How long will it take you?” he asked me.

“Typically between twelve and twenty-four hours,” I replied. “Depends on how big things are inside.” I locked gazes with him. “If I’m not out by ten bells tomorrow night, consider me dead.”

“You would endanger the Countess Bruma’s mission that much?” Dion’s voice held a slight edge of skepticism.

“I’ve closed enough Gates by now to know what to expect,” I adjusted the hilts at my left hip and drew the plain katana. “And my mission can not be accomplished if I don’t close this Gate.” I can’t expect the Count Skingrad to release any of his Guard with this so close to the Castle.

“I won’t pretend that I’m not happy to see you, Julian of Anvil,” Dion said finally. “But I won’t take your risk for granted, either.” He pointed at my quiver. “It’s looking a little light, don’t you think?”

“My marksman skills are much better than they used to be,” I answered. “Fifteen arrows should be more than adequate for me. And if I run out, there’s always my flare spell.”

“Magic spells?” Dion repeated. “What are you, a battlemage?”

“Ever seen a Redguard battlemage?” I countered, shaking my head. “Give me water and I’ll get going.”

****************
Twenty-two hours later, I crouched within the ruins of the Wayshrine, pulling deep breaths of the cool evening into my scorched lungs. The sigil stone sent its ghoulish song from my left palm up the bones of my arm. I used the plain katana for support as I staggered to my feet.

“Welcome back, Julian,” Dion’s voice reached me in the sudden silence that always followed the closing of an Oblivion Gate. I looked up as he held out a canteen, its top uncorked. He waited while I slipped the sigil stone into my belt pouch and cleaned my katana with the refresh spell. With the slender blade safely sheathed, I accepted the full canteen and drank it dry.

My empty belly full of cool water, I handed the canteen back to Dion. “Thanks, sir,” I croaked.

“Artellian’s men are on the barricades, but should he send them back to the Castle now?” Dion asked, his gaze scanning the surrounding slopes for remaining daedra.

“The Gate should stay closed now,” I replied. “If you’ve cleared the area, there is no further need to stand guard.”

“Then let’s head back to Skingrad,” Dion clapped my shoulder. My stride barely faltered, though Dion’s gesture was hearty enough. Once upon a time that would have knocked me off my feet. I’m still getting stronger.

Artellian turned out to be a heavy-jawed Imperial with a dissolute look in his eyes. He met us at the barricades and gave me a grudging nod. “Captain Dion told me you would close the Gate,” he remarked. “I admit I had trouble believing him, but I’m convinced now.”

“Julian says if the area is clear, your men can head back to the Castle, Captain,” Dion addressed his contemporary coolly.

“We’ll wait an hour longer, make certain there are no more daedra around,” Artellian responded. He turned to the assembled men along the barricades. “I need eight men to make a sweep right away!”

“Let’s go,” Dion said as I watched the requisite number of guardsmen peel off the barricades. “You’ve done more than your share here.” He turned and led me along the path back to the road, pausing to pick up my pack where I had left it beside the barricades. “Let’s get back inside the city walls before the goblins come out again.”

“How late is it?” I asked when we passed the mine. The sun disappeared behind the crenellated walls as we descended from the heights.

“The Chapel just rang five bells not long ago,” Dion answered. “You’ve been in there twenty-two hours, just like you said. I take it it was quite a large place in there?”

“Yes, though not as large as the ones outside Bravil or Leyawiin,” I answered. “But I had to do a lot of backtracking to reach the Sigil Keep.”

“And it’s as simple as taking the Sigil Stone?” Dion asked. At my nod, he glanced at me. “May I see it?”

I fished the fist-sized stone and held it out to him as we turned onto the Skingrad road that ran between the Castle and the city. He eyed the thrumming stone a moment, then plucked it from my palm. His brows rose in surprise at the aliveness of the thing.

“This really sets my teeth on edge,” he hefted it a moment, then handed it back to me.

“As I understand it,” I thought back to what Martin had said about the Sigil Stones, “they contain the souls of men and mer that have been abused into death in the Deadlands.” I recalled again the torture chambers I had seen numerous times, the blood splashed on the walls and floors in the towers, the ravaged corpses displayed like fine art. Even after twelve - no, fourteen now - Gates, my stomach still rebelled at the gory sights behind each and every portal.

“You’ve done us an immeasurable service,” Dion’s voice, unlike that of Count Caro’s, held sincere gratitude. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“It’s late, but I’ll need to see the Count Skingrad,” I glanced up at the rapidly darkening sky. The stars were already appearing in the clear firmament overhead.

“It’s not late for him,” Dion remarked cryptically. “Let me send a runner ahead to the castle. The Count will see you when you arrive.”

The thought of spending the night at the Mages Guild in the highland city drew me on.
I guess no one has warned her about Vigge the Cautious! No Julian, don't go there for the night!

It is strange seeing Julian hiking. I am so used to her being on Paint all the time. It makes me sad that he has to stay behind these days.

The sigil stone sent its ghoulish song from my left palm up the bones of my arm.
This is an excellent description!

“they contain the souls of men and mer that have been abused into death in the Deadlands.”
A nice bit of world-building to explain the origin of the sigil stones. Well, maybe nice is not the best word...


nits:
Roseate sun poured through the thinning canopy
The beginning sounds a bit odd. Perhaps Roseate sunlight? or A roseate sun?

I comforted myself with Merowald’s promise to tend to the gelding’s comfort
You have a variation of comfort twice here. Perhaps the second instance might be replaced with something like needs?

Paint had watched me leave him behind at Weye, his head over the top rail of the fence that enclosed the little paddock as I walked westward.
*sniff* Oh, Paint!

And now with the sun setting, the goblins would be coming out from Derelict Mine to ambush travelers along the road.
Now those goblins make sense to me!

It warms my heart to see Julian’s confidence and renewed strength. Skingrad Mages Guild tonight, eeep! I’m not sure who is creepier, the Count or the Cautious!

Oh noes. I didn't mean to cause concern with my carbonari comment. I was joshin' ya. You know me and chow!

The old veteran doing what she does. Well done, Julian!

Nice touch regarding the goblins of Derelict Mine.

“You would endanger the Countess Bruma’s mission that much?” Dion’s voice held a slight edge of skepticism.
“I’ve closed enough Gates by now to know what to expect,” I adjusted the hilts at my left hip and drew the plain katana. “And my mission can not be accomplished if I don’t close this Gate.” I can’t expect the Count Skingrad to release any of his Guard with this so close to the Castle.
Wonderfully done. This shows Julian's experience here. She knows the first thing the Count would do before considering help would be to send her to this very gate.

Dion clapped my shoulder. My stride barely faltered, though Dion’s gesture was hearty enough. Once upon a time that would have knocked me off my feet. I’m still getting stronger.
Boy, she sure is. She carries quite the arsenal now - and each piece with its own rich story.

Wonderful descriptions of the humming and thrumming and aliveness of sigil stones.

She's certainly tough, walk twenty miles with a pack then fight for twenty two hours and still be able to go to a meeting. Impressive, she's becoming stronger and much tougher.


I liked how you showed the captain, he's clearly pleased she's appeared but he's also a bit grumpy and tired as his rather unwelcoming first comment shows. It makes him real that after manning a barricade for a month he's a bit short tempered.

Also changing the order - clever stuff. It's still true to the gme but rather than talking to the count first she just closes the gate which keeps things fresh.

'aliveness' - inspired description for the stone, it fits so well.

Nit:
You use 'roseate' twice to describe the sunlight in the first six paragraphs. I found it slightly distracting because it's quite an unusual word, though a good one for infrequent use, I might have to give it a go

*pant*

finally...

*pant*

caught...

*pant*

up....

*faints*

Paint had watched me leave him behind at Weye, his head over the top rail of the fence that enclosed the little paddock as I walked westward.

Farewell, Paint! you shall be sorely missed!
I really love how you gave Paint such a distinct personality, they can be such characters sometimes! His exit from the story was also drawn out just long enough for the reader to understand just how much he meant to our angelic-haired Redguard. Bravo! (Grr! no applause smilie!)

I took in his gaunt expression, the thick beard blurring his jawline, the prominent shadows beneath his eyes.

Loved this one, I'm a sucker for atmosphere!

@Sage Rose: Yes, it is strange to be hiking cross country after riding horseback for two months! But Julian was a footsoldier first, and ground pounders have a certain pride in their ability to hump a quarter of their body weight thirty miles a day. You can be certain she took advantage of the opportunity to collect quite a few plant specimens for alchemy practice!. I'm glad you approved of how I addressed the power of the sigil stones. I expand on that idea in a few posts from now. And thanks again for the nits - they've been fixed.

@Grits: Thanks for reading! Yes, it was sad to leave Paint behind. My own gelding would do that (put his head over the fence and watch me) whenever I left the farm. He was a great saddle horse and really loved the time we had together. It's been almost ten years, and I still miss him terribly. If you can't decide which is scarier, the Count or the Cautious, let me leave you with this - how about meeting both of them in one night?

@Acadian: I knew you were joshing about the contabarri comment! But it made me realize that others might not get the joke. I thought it was a good time to clarify things a bit. (More than one person have told me I should have gone into teaching!) As for closing the Gate at Skingrad, well, it's motivated more by her concern for the men of the Skingrad guard, though her experience with the wily Count Leyawiin certainly has been a learning one! It's always good to see how much you enjoy Julian's journey through Cyrodiil.

@Olen: Your impression of Dion is exactly what I was going for - being on increased duty and fighting incessant hordes of Daedra (though I see this more as a process of attrition than an all-out attack) for a month has got to have a big impact. He is one of those NPC's that I have a particular fondness for - not because he's nice and friendly, but because he's serious, brisk, professional, and you always know where you stand with him. As for closing the gates first, I learned pretty quickly the first time through that Counts/tesses aren't going to send their guards kiting off to some remote mountain town just because I said pretty please; and it makes sense from a strategic standpoint to want the immediate threat to their own towns eliminated before they will think of someone else. For a military pro like Julian, it's got to be a no-brainer. As for the use of the word roseate, well, it's one of those things that's difficult to find a synonym for. In the game (I play XBox, remember) the late afternoon sunlight has such a wonderful, amazing quality that can only be described as roseate. Pink just doesn't cut it, and no other word captures the atmosphere as well. So I'll think on it for a bit, and if anyone has any suggestions for alternatives, I'm open! But I will keep your comment in mind and avoid using it again so close together.

@TK: Finally caught up? I'm impressed. Did you actually read the whole thing?? Yes, Paint is sorely missed already! We'll see him again briefly when Julian stops by on her way to Chorrol (and let's not forget Sancre Tor beyond). As for Dion's scruffy appearance, I suppose it's obvious that I've watched way too many gritty war movies (and read even more war books) depicting soldiers on the front line (or behind enemy lines, for that matter) for days or weeks. Shaving is one of the first things to go under such circumstances, I've noticed. Sleep seems to be the second. So that's the impression I wanted to convey, as Olen (as well as you) so aptly pointed out.

After walking all day from Weye and spending another day in the Deadlands, Julian faces her toughest obstacle yet - Mercator Hosidus. Fortunately, her knack for finding allies in the unlikeliest places still holds true.

********************
Chapter 22.2 Count Janus Hassildor

Unencumbered by my pack and most of my weapons, which I had left with Dion at the City Guard barracks, I adjusted the hilt of my plain katana at my hip. The massive doors of the Great Hall swung open silently at my push, their hinges operating smoothly. Two Castle Guardsmen turned to face me as I paused on the top of the stairs leading down to the grand expanse of the stone floor.

I nodded at the sentries, then cast my gaze around the Great Hall. It was the grandest of the county halls I had visited so far, dwarfing even that of Leyawiin. I stifled a smile at the thought. Wonder if Countess Caro has ever seen this place. She’d be green with envy. Unlike the other county seats, though, no throne marked this as the seat of Skingrad.

Unlike the dark and sooty hall of Bruma, Skingrad’s Great Hall was well lit with clean-burning candles that filled numerous chandeliers suspended from the high roof and tall candelabras set around the walls. Beautiful tapestries in rich greens and golds hung on the walls, and plush carpets covered the floor. Several tables with chairs were scattered around the hall.

Where does Count Skingrad hold audience? I wondered. My gaze fell on a middle-aged Imperial, his green brocade stretched over a noticeable paunch, seated at one of the tables. He glanced up as I descended the stairs, and his lips curved into a sneer.

“Do you want to see the Count?” He cast a scornful glance up and down my frame. “You won’t get to see him. Not now, not ever.” He took a sip from the chased silver goblet in his hand. “I should know. I’m Mercator Hosidus, his steward.”

But Captain Dion said that he would see me! “I come with a message from Countess Carvain of Bruma, sir,” I kept my voice even.

“Give me the message, and I shall pass it along to the Count,” Hosidus leaned back in his chair, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee. My eyes narrowed at his tone.

“I am to give the message to the Count directly,” my voice turned icy. “With all due respect to you, sir.”

“Ah, but the Count trusts me,” Hosidus rose to his feet. He seemed slightly miffed by the fact that he still needed to look up to meet my gaze.

“Maybe so,” I countered. “But it is the Countess whose orders I am following, sir. And her orders are to deliver her message directly to the Count himself.”

“Feel free to wait,” Hosidus waved at the tables. “Make yourself comfortable, for it will be an interminable wait.” He drained the goblet and set it back on the polished wooden surface, then turned and walked away from me. I stared after him as he disappeared through a door on the far side of the hall.

Did you know what you were asking of me, Grandmaster, when you sent me on this wild goose chase across all of Cyrodiil? I sighed in frustration and unbuckled my katana from my hip. I selected a nearby table, laid my weapon down across it and pulled a chair out. Count Cheydinhal has been the most reasonable so far, but only because I pulled his idiot son out of the lava - literally! Seated on its comfortable cushion, I leaned back and stretched my legs beneath the table. And Count Leyawiin with his conditions upon conditions! And let’s not forget Count Bravil and his lily-white principles! I closed my eyes. Now I can’t even get past that supercilious twit of a steward to see Count Skingrad! Akatosh! Please let Countess Anvil be the most approachable of them all!

“Would you like some refreshment, ma’am?” I opened my eyes to see a nattily dressed Orsimer standing beside me. His green linens nearly matched his skin as he bowed to me. “I am Shum gro-Yarug, Count Hassildor’s butler. Shall I provide some wine?”

“No thanks,” I shook my head. “I’m here to see the Count, not partake of his hospitality.” He stepped back as I straightened up in the chair. “When does he hold audience?”

“Ah, Count Hassildor never holds audience,” gro-Yarug responded. “He’s not like other Counts and Countesses, see.” He leaned conspiratorially toward me. “You have to go through his stewards, see. And that Hosidus, he’ll never let you see the Count.”

“It’s important that I see him,” I could feel the frustration beginning to creep into my voice and took a deep breath. “What do you recommend?”

“Ah, you leave that to old gro-Yarug, see,” the Orsimer laid a finger alongside his nose. “I’ll take right good care of you.” He grinned toothily at me. “You just sit quietly like, and wait just a bit, ma’am.” With a courtly bow the butler turned and walked away from me.

I’m too tired to do anything but sit quietly like, I grumbled silently to myself and leaned back in the chair. I’ll just close my eyes while I wait.

“Julian of Anvil?” The soft hiss roused me from dreams of blood and fire. I opened my eyes to see an Argonian woman bending over me. Like the others, she wore green, this time a lush velvet that did nothing to hide her curves. “I am Hal-Liurz, Count Hassildor’ss perssonal ssteward.”

“Isn’t Hosidus the steward?” Momentarily confused, I forgot to control my tongue. The Argonian smiled sweetly at me.

“He iss the Casstle ssteward,” she replied. “I am the Count’ss perssonal ssteward.” She straightened up as I rose from the chair, mentally shaking the last of the grogginess from my mind. “I undersstand you clossed the Gate just outsside the Casstle.”

“It was the least I could do for Dion’s Guard,” I picked up my katana. I suppose there’s a difference between the two stewards, but I’m too tired to figure it out.

“Of coursse,” Hal-Liurz nodded. “If you will follow me, I will take you to the Count.”

I hesitated. “It’s late, ma’am -“

“I assure you, the Count keepss very late hourss.” Hal-Liurz smiled again at me. “Come, he wantss to ssee you.” She led me toward the grand staircase that led up to a balcony across the rear of the Hall. As I fell into step behind her, gro-Yarug stepped out of the shadows beneath the stairs and winked at me, his yellow teeth gleaming softly in the candlelight.

“Thank you,” I whispered as we passed him. The Orsimer inclined his head to me, his black eyes sparkling. Why do I get the feeling he rather enjoyed the opportunity to go behind Hosidus’s back?

The Argonian steward led me through a maze of hallways and passages into the depths of the castle. As we moved deeper into the private quarters, the candles became fewer and further between. Still, the air remained fresh and clean. There must be a ventilation system here.

At the top of a flight of winding stairs, Hal-Liurz led me into a round room. I shivered in the cool night air and realized we stood at the top of one of the towers, its sides open beneath the conical roof. I cast my gaze around the dark space, my eyes drawn to the vista outside. Off to the west, I could see the silhouette of burned Kvatch on its mesa black against the starlit sky. Below us, the spire of the Chapel of Julianos gleamed softly in the double moonlight.

A flame flared and caught the wick of a fat candle, drawing my attention back to the center of the room. I could make out a table, a shadow seated beside it. A narrow hand gestured in the candlelight, and small sparks leaped from its fingertips toward a candelabra standing beside the table. A broad-shouldered man emerged from the shadows as the glow widened to fill the space beneath the roof.

“Forgive me for meeting you here,” a smooth, cultured voice reached me as the man waved me to the chair opposite him. “You are Julian of Anvil, Hero of Kvatch?”

“Just Julian of Anvil would be fine, sir,” I couldn’t keep the exhaustion out of my voice as I sat down a little too heavily for grace.

“I am Janus Hassildor, Count Skingrad,” the man met my gaze. His face, pale in the candlelight, showed the well-defined bone structure typical of Colovian Imperials. Shadows still hid his eyes. “I take my fresh air here at night. Pleasant view, isn’t it?”

Again I looked around. I could see the still-smoldering ruins of the Oblivion Gate to the east. He knew when the Gate was closed. “I’m certain it’s more pleasant now than it was earlier.”

“Of course,” the Count responded. “That portal to Oblivion was a blight on the landscape.” He shifted slightly in his chair and crooked a beringed finger at Hal-Liurz. “Would you like some refreshment? A glass of Tamika’s, perhaps?”

“I’m a recovering drunk,” I shook my head. “Water would be fine, if you have some ready.”

“Of course.” That finger flickered, and Hal-Liurz moved to a sideboard near the stairs. I heard her pouring something, then she returned with a fine crystal goblet which she set before me. “You must be weary after spending the last day in the Deadlands,” the Count continued as I took a sip. “Let’s get to the point, shall we? I understand you have a message for me from Countess Carvain of Bruma.”

“Yes, sir, I do,” I set the goblet down carefully, considering my next words. “Countess Carvain is facing a serious threat, one potentially more serious than the one you have faced for the past month. There is evidence that the Mythic Dawn plans to open a Great Gate at Bruma. If they succeed, it will allow them to send a siege engine through that can destroy the city, as it did Kvatch.” When I paused for breath, Count Hassildor turned his gaze to the fine silver-trimmed crystal goblet in his hand.

“I remember the night Kvatch burned,” he spoke quietly. “It was a terrifying sight to see.”

My eyes moved of their own volition to the charred remains of the city visible on the horizon. “Yes, it was, sir,” I kept my own voice soft.

“Why Bruma?” Again the Count shifted in his seat and drew my gaze back to him. “Why not Skingrad? Or Anvil?”

As I had with High Chancellor Ocato, I kept my silence. After a moment, Hassildor nodded to himself. “I see. And how may I be of assistance to Countess Carvain?”

“Her City Guard has learned to close Oblivion Gates as soon as they open. Three must be open at the same time in order to bring up a Great Gate, that is how it was done at Kvatch.” Hassildor kept his shadowed gaze unwavering on me. “Yet her Guard will take casualties, it is inevitable. She asks for reinforcements from her fellow Counts and Countesses to bolster her Guard and buy time for others to find a way to end this Crisis for good.”

“Who are these others seeking a way to end this?” Hassildor’s voice turned cool.

“Those who are familiar with the workings of daedric magic,” I answered. Hassildor nodded at my evasiveness and didn’t press the matter further. Instead, he regarded the burgundy colored fluid in his goblet, cupping its bowl in the palm of his hand and swirling the wine, as if reading portents of the future in its depths. I waited silently, sipping at the cool water that finally moistened my dry throat.

Hassildor drank down the last of the wine and set the goblet down on the table with deliberate movements. “Mehrunes Dagon has no more love for my kind than for my mortal subjects,” he leaned forward, the candlelight chasing the shadows away from his eyes. With a sharp inhalation, I recognized the same pale red irises I had seen in Seridur’s eyes. Janus Hassildor is a vampire? My body stiffened involuntarily, and my right hand caught the hilt of my katana before I could stop myself. Hassildor smiled humorlessly at my reaction. “Less perhaps, as we make poor slaves,” he continued calmly. “You have helped me by closing the Oblivion Gate here. I will likewise help you by granting the Countess’s request.”

Slowly I forced my right hand away from my weapon. He isn’t threatening me. And he’s been the Count of Skingrad for a very long time. Longer than I’ve been in the Legion. “On behalf of Countess Bruma, I thank you for your assistance, sir.” I managed to keep the tremor in my fingers out of my voice.

“Stay a bit in Skingrad, rest and recover,” Hassildor leaned back, his eyes disappearing again into darkness. “See Agnete the Pickled for your armor repair. I’ll send a message to Dion about sending some men to Bruma. I’ll defer to his judgment concerning the number of men we can spare.” His hands folded in front of his brocaded robe. “Good night, Julian of Anvil.”

So Julian comes face to face with Count Hasslehof -dor. I liked your presentation of the corpse-humper Hosidus (that is what I get for reading Cardboard Box's story), and the rivalry between him and the butler that is bubbling just below the surface.

Likewise, the tower was an excellent place for the reclusive Count to meet with Julian, rather than the hall, or even his private chambers. It shows us a bit of his personality, and it also allows you to use the view of both Kvatch and the newly shut Oblivion Gate to move the story along.

Now that Julian knows that the Count is a vampire (I bet Bethesda just could not resist a Count being a vampire... ) I wonder what she will do with that information? I expect she will keep the secret, given that he is sending support to Bruma. To betray it would be a breach of faith. In spite of what Hassildor is.

I liked the real feeling of resentment and rivalry you have bubbling in the castle, it makes a good reason for the butler to help and also says a lot about the whole place. Hassildor, though strong and old and clever, is still at the limit of his depth. He's trying to hide his vamirism and you really caught how this has affected his ability to keep his own house in order, and how he seems tired in this part. You managed to give him a lot of character in a relitivly short part.

And a while longer in Skingrad... well given she won't partake in the wine I suppose there's grape juice, and that mad tomato woman... And the mad alchemist, and mad bosmer... in fact I can see Julian fitting in with Skingrad really well

I am reading it now, in fact since no one is around at the moment I have the next hour blocked off as Interregnum time. I have discovered that if anyone disturbs me when I'm reading it, I become uncharacteristically peevish!


The candle lit room with a view has stayed in my mind. Kvatch is up close and burning for me right now, so the thought of the Count watching from his tower is especially chilling!

I try my best to finish what I start, and I would consider it an insult to an author's hard work and dedication to start their story part-way through. IMHO, that is a way of stating that the work is only partially worth reading, and how would you feel if some came up and told you that? This is simply my way of saying "Your story is worth every word."

Besides, if I'm planning to have yours occurring in the background of mine, I need to do my homework, right?

Instead, he regarded the burgundy colored fluid in his goblet, cupping its bowl in the palm of his hand and swirling the wine

Some strange portent tells me that that may not have been wine in his goblet....

and that mad tomato woman... And the mad alchemist, and mad bosmer...

Makes me wonder why Sheogorath opened the gate to his Realm all the way on the other side of Tamriel, but then again, as Haskill would say... to comprehend the Lord's will is an exercise in futility.

'Did you know what you were asking of me, Grandmaster, when you sent me on this wild goose chase across all of Cyrodiil?'
I hear ya, Julian!

I like the nice suggestions of internal politics among Hassildor's staff that marked what it took for Julian to get an audience.

And meeting Hassildor! You did not disappoint. I agree that the open high tower location and views at night were spectacularly appropriate. The scene just dripped with atmosphere, and was expertly presented with rich and evocative description. Wonderful touch, Julian's hand and the hilt of her katana. Well done!

@SubRosa: I'm tempted to use Boxee's epithet for all necromancers from now on! But somehow I just can't see Julian adopting Aussie slang. Maybe someone else will use it in her hearing . . . I've always felt that there were some interstaff politics going on in that castle (as at Anvil). Hosidus was easy to write, but then when I introduced gro-Yarug (the butler), he just beat Hosidus over the head and took off running with the keyboard. Then Hal-Liurz wrested it from him! Julian had to use her pilus voice to get it back from those three!

Julian will have a chance to consider the quandary of a vampiric Count. Just not right now - she has enough on her mind between closing OG's and getting the last of the recommendations she needs to get into the University.

@Olen: Skingrad also has really nice artesian water (yes, water can taste differently from locale to locale, and not just because there is a dead Mages Apprentice in the well!). As for the mad folks, well, that'll be later . . .

@Grits: It always struck me that you can see Kvatch from the bridge leading to the castle at Skingrad, yet no one ever talks about what happened there. You would think that would be a huge topic - "where were you the night Kvatch burned?" - "Oh, I was busy with Servilia the Serpent."

@TK: Maybe good ol' Sheo figured Bravil was just a little too uptight and needed a little loosening up. Being the skooma capital of Cyrodiil just doesn't cut it.

@Acadian: About the wild goose chase, I think that's why Jauffre sent Julian - "Better her than me!" I'm glad Count Hassildor came across well for you and quite a few others. Following mALX can be a real challenge at times.

Has anyone ever noticed that there is a shortage of beds at the Skingrad chapter? For a long time I have been waiting to write about the goings-on at the Skingrad Mages Guild, especially late at night. This chapter is my reward for waiting for the right moment to introduce Julian to this particular group of mages. I had a great deal of fun writing this, though Julian did not find it so amusing at the time.

**************************
Chapter 22.3 Musical Beds

The slender Argonian stepped into the entrance hall from the left when I entered the Mages Guild chapterhouse. Clad in a simple blue mage’s robe, her orange eyes met my gaze as I reached the stone floor. “Hello, Associate,” she greeted me with the characteristic Argonian hiss. “Welcome to the Sskingrad Magess Guild. My name is Druja.”

“Hello,” I lowered my pack to the floor. “I’m Julian of Anvil. I’m an Associate in the Guild, gathering recommendations to enter the Arcane University.”

“And clossing Oblivion Gatess while you’re at it, too,” Druja nodded. “Thank you.” Her gaze flickered over my battered gear. “You musst be tired and weary.” She moved to a room that opened off the hall to the right. “Come thiss way, put your gear down and ssit. I’ll get you ssomething to eat.”

“No, thanks,” I stopped her, picking up my pack. “I’d much rather get some sleep first. I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep into the food!”

“Upsstairss, then,” Druja pointed toward the double staircase that marked the rear wall of the entry. “On the third floor. Take any open bed. We don’t sstand much on ownersship here.”

“Thanks, ma’am,” I gave Druja a nod before heading for the stairs.

The second floor turned out to be a large, open room with diamond-paned windows letting in a flood of moonlight that competed with the generous candlelight. The walls were lined with book shelves, and a large round table sat in the center of the space, surrounded by comfortable chairs. An elegant woman, her blond hair neatly pulled back in an intricate braided coif, did not look up from a book laying open on the table. Silently, I passed her and found the stairs leading to the third floor.

The third floor consisted of a simple passageway with three doors, two against the south wall, and the last adjacent to the door leading to the stairs. I approached the door directly opposite from the entry and knocked softly on it. Hearing no response, I opened it slowly.

A dark form lay on the double bed, illuminated only by the moonlight slanting in through the uncovered windows. I withdrew without disturbing the sleeper and softly closed the door.

The second room was empty, softly glowing candles revealing another wide bed. I set my gear down on the chest that sat against the wall next to the door. With quiet movements to avoid rousing the sleeper next door, I drew out my civilian garments and changed. My cuirass rolled into its sooty surcoat and my worn leathers folded next to it, I set the plain katana on top. I will see this Agnete the Pickled tomorrow and have this repaired. My two bows and Daedra Slayer, on the other hand, were still in good condition, for I had barely used them.

Finally I gave in to my exhaustion and collapsed into that inviting bed. The wide mattress welcomed me in its soft embrace, and I was soon asleep.

I found myself climbing the winding ramp that led to the top of the Kvatch Sigil Keep. Above me, the huge Dremora screeched his challenge at me, his mace lifting high. Neatly sidestepping his charge, I spun on my healed right leg and sliced the keen blade of my katana across the backs of his thighs. His mace spun at me as he fell to his knees, but I avoided it easily. I stabbed at his exposed throat, but he turned inside my reach and grabbed me around the waist. Before I could struggle free, he had staggered to his feet, lifting me off the floor in a bone-crunching bear hug.

My eyes flew open as I broke free and rolled out of the entangling coverlet, away from the arm that had encircled my waist. The hilt of the sheathed katana settled into my right palm as I spun to face the bed, my feet braced for any assault.

“Wha -?” The plump Nord blinked beady eyes at me, sitting up on the far side of the mattress. “Can’t we share a bed peacefully like?” He held his hands out, palms facing me, in a placating manner.

“Sh - share a bed?” I stammered, staring at him as my katana’s tip lowered to the floor. “I don’t share a bed with someone I’ve never met!”

“That’s easy to rectify, ma’am,” the Nord clambered out of the bed, rising to his full height. His knee-length nightshirt barely concealed his readiness for more than sleep. My sheathed weapon rose again as I struggled to keep my eyes on his face. “I am Vigge the Cautious, Conjurer in the Skingrad Chapter of the Mages Guild. And you must be the famous Julian of Anvil, Hero of Kvatch.” He bowed deeply with a flourish of his right arm. “Now that we’ve properly met, let’s to bed, shall we?”

I found myself shaking my head. “I don’t think so, sir,” I backed to the chest where my gear still lay. “You go back to bed, I’ll find someplace else to sleep.”

A snicker from the door whipped my head around. An Imperial man lounged, his left shoulder against the jamb, mischief sparking in his brown eyes. “You may have won the coin toss, Vigge, but you lost the bet, it seems!”

My eyes narrowed at his words. A bet? A bet on who sleeps with me? We’ll see about that! “Who are you?” I challenged the Imperial. He shifted his gaze to me and bowed.

“Sulinus Vassinus, Evoker,” he straightened his blue robe over his trim frame. “Perhaps you would like to sleep in my bed?” He shrugged. “I doubt you’d want to sleep with the chapter head, Adrienne Berene.” His brows rose quizzically. “Unless you bend that way -?”

“See, there isn’t a spare bed here,” Vigge volunteered from the far side of the bed. “So that means someone has to double up with someone.” He tipped his head at Vassinus. “Neither of us are fond of sleeping with Adrienne. That’s Erthor’s job, when he’s here.”

“I’ll find someplace else, then,” I turned and gathered my gear.

“Oh, come on, don’t be a prude!” Vigge’s voice took on a cajoling tone. “I promise I’ll be good, really good!” My gaze flickered downward briefly.

“I’m not so certain about your dagger,” I locked gazes with the Nord again. “I’ll pass.” Vassinus grinned as I passed him and stepped out into the hallway. “And I will politely decline your offer as well, sir,” I said to him before heading for the stairs.

It took all of my self control not to run away from the two lechers. I’m no prude, but I certainly won’t sleep with just anyone! What do they take me for? The memory of the singing Redguard pirate surfaced in my whirling thoughts as I descended to the second floor. He’s more tempting than these two mages!

The blond woman looked up from her book as I rounded the corner, irritation in her gaze. “I beg your pardon, ma’am,” I bowed to her and headed for the stairs leading to the ground floor.

Druja was nowhere to be seen when I reached the end of the staircase. I entered the dining hall and set my gear down next to the crackling fire. A large, cushioned chair proved to be comfortable, and I pulled up a stool for my feet. Leaning my head against the high back, I closed my eyes.

Footsteps drove away the sleep I sought so desperately. “Julian?” Druja’s voice reached me. “Couldn’t you find a place to ssleep?”

“This is fine,” I replied, rocking my shoulders against the upholstered back of the chair. “I don’t have to share it with anyone else.”

“Oh, I’m ssorry, ma’am,” Druja exclaimed softly. “But they outrank me, so there’ss not much I can do —“ She hesitated, and I opened my eyes to look at her. “Ssleep in my bed,” she said finally. “It’s a narrow one, they won’t be able to ssqueeze in with you! I’ll ssleep out here.”

“No thanks, Druja,” I shook my head. “Go back to bed. I’m used to roughing it. I’ve got the fire, a cushion under my behind, and a soft spot for my head. I’m fine.” I closed my eyes in tacit dismissal.

A moment later, I felt the soft embrace of a quilt draping over my body. I looked up into Druja’s face as she tucked the coverlet around my shoulders. She withdrew without a word, and I listened to her footsteps fading across the entrance hall. Why is it every single Argonian I meet treats me with such kindness? Tar-Meena. Jeelius. Sakeepa at Aleswell. Kud-Ei and Marz in Bravil. Deetsan in Cheydinhal. Now Druja? The Countess of Leyawiin needs to get out more. Fat chance of that ever happening, though!

This time, when I sought sleep, I caught it. And this time, I had no disturbing visions of grasping Dremora.