Haven't got to that bit yet, (I'm getting there though ), so I assumed it was yet another Something I Didn't Know™...Which covers an awful lot of ground you know?... ...

Aaamywho...

Loved it...The descriptions of the bookshops was brilliant...I wanna go to that one in Kvatch!!...Me likes bookish girls... ...Ace shop name too...Very clever... ...*Applauds*...

The food in Luther's sounds lovely...*Wants some*...And the homemade security measures in Baurus' room were very well done...*Applauds again*...



Everyone's quoting this bit, but I loved it, simply because it's one thing, and then something else, with nothing in between...*Grins*...Always a good thing... ...Plus, it made me laugh a lot too...Also a good thing...

Another brilliant episode that I loved massively...Looking forward to wherever it may roam...

Nice one!!!...

*Applauds mega heartily*...

Today’s work was inside the walls, not out under the sun.
Another nice little touch of character-building, reinforcing the kind of person Jerric is.

Twice Sold Tales in Kvatch. All that was missing was kahve and the smiling, bookish girls who served it.
So Borders/Barnes & Noble/every other major bookstore chain do not exist on Earth alone! Seriously though, I love the inclusion of Twice Sold Tales. It is easy to forget that Kvatch ever existed in this game. So it is good to have these little pieces that reinforces that it was in fact a real place.

I wouldn’t mind seeing this man’s blood.
And he is not the only one!

“Throw in some erotica and we have a deal,”
Yep, Pr0N is what makes the world go round!

And back to meet Baurus, James Baurus. His room - and its alarms - does not disappoint one's imagination. Nor does Luther's tasty bread and meat surprise.

ghastley: I’m afraid there’s no magical boost from skill books in the story, just the increased understanding from mundane reading. I think Darnand will get a bit more from Camoran’s ranting writing, since he’ll probably stay awake through more than the first page. Phintias is one of those love to hate characters, so it’s been fun to play with him. Thank you, ghastley!

mALX: As Acadian said, it was back in Fort Strand that Jerric killed a sleeping Altmer without determining if she was a marauder or someone kept there under coercion. He hasn’t wallowed in angst over it, but it’s still on his conscience. Thank you for mentioning the confusion, I added “in Fort Strand” to hopefully clear it up in the story. Bold Baurus can deal with many situations, but I decided to spare him the sight of Jerric enjoying his lunch and a saucy read at the same time. Thank you, mALX!

King Coin: I can’t imagine Phintias hosting a story hour for the little kids. Though that would be fun to write for another town. Hmm. Glad you liked Jerric’s impromptu nap. Thanks, KC!

Acadian: Thank you for finding that nit, and for the suggestion of including the dungeon name as a reminder. The changes have been made. Rolloping in the horse poo was exactly his first choice of activity! It’s not a good day until he’s lost a shirt and near ruined his boots. Thank you, Acadian!

McBadgere: I’m so glad you’re working through the old parts! I would recap for you, but the review would be as long as the original. Thank you, McB! I must confess that the experience of waking up with a book print on the face is not unique to Jerric.

SubRosa: Thank you, SubRosa! I was frantic for a sandwich when I wrote that episode. Plus I long for a browse through a real book store. Our local one has closed its doors. Baurus has been fun to write. He’s a man on the edge in this part of the game.


Where we are: It was evening in the Imperial City. Jerric has gotten the first two volumes of the Commentaries and made a plan with Baurus to obtain the final two books. (Their timeline differs from the game’s.) He had to spend most of his gold convincing Phintias, but at least he got a naughty book in the bargain. Jerric left Baurus to meet Lildereth and Darnand for dinner. Now we hop back in time to the morning of that day to pick up with Darnand.



Chapter 14: The Imperial City, Part Seven

Darnand woke in the dark, disoriented for a moment. Snores and the smell of damp reminded him where he was. The Associates’ hostel at the Arcane University. As he stretched uncomfortably on the wooden platform, his full bladder reminded him that he intended to arise early. Drinking a flagon of water before bed had done the trick.

His night-eye spell allowed him to reach the privy without waking his fellow mages or fumbling with a candle. The hostel had been a recent addition to the University’s amenities, worked into extra space after Arch-Mage Traven had closed the main grounds to so many low-ranking guild members. Visitors with coin stayed in nearby inns and taverns, while those with ambition completed their recommendations so that they might use the guild quarters along with the other facilities in the University proper. Darnand believed that the guild’s reservoir of untapped talent could be found largely in its lowest rank. Surely the guild could spare them a few glowstones.

Darnand had found an abandoned stretch of corridor where the stone floor was less musty. He began to stretch and warm his muscles as he walked there, the way Jerric had shown him. He kept up with his daily exercises, even on the road when he woke up feeling stiff and battered. Every week or so Jerric would reach out and squeeze an arm or prod his belly in the manner of a cook buying an unplucked chicken. The best Darnand could say for himself was that he had gone from thin and soft to merely thin. The best Jerric had said was nothing. Instead of remarking, “Slender as a maiden” or “Good if you’re a potato roll,” lately he just nodded. Darnand took that as encouragement. Improving himself was a hunger inside him. Every day he fed it his aches, fears, and exhaustion. Today was no different.

After a cold but thorough wash, Darnand dressed carefully in his best robe. He packed his belongings neatly away, as was his habit. If only others possessed the same discipline, he thought, stepping over discarded clothing and empty bottles with disdain.

A spell hastened his passage through the awakening streets to the Talos Plaza district. He stood in hope and some awe in front of Ilmerion Manor. Baeralorn, Anvil’s castle mage, had provided an introduction by letter. It would be up to Darnand to convince this Ilmerion to allow access to his library.

The door opened before Darnand had even mounted the step. The ancient Altmer on the threshold regarded him in silence. Surely Ilmerion does not answer his own door, thought Darnand. Or perhaps this is a test.

“Darnand Penoit,” he said, pleased that his voice sounded firm. He stopped himself before he could nervously start explaining.

The Altmer stepped back without a word, leaving the door open. Darnand took a deep breath and followed him inside.

Highly polished stone floors and walls suggested opulence without offering comfort. Darnand followed the Altmer across a broad lobby and up wide stairs. Every door he saw stood closed. The passageways were bare of furnishings and decorations. The only clues to the owner’s taste were the Ayleid style light fixtures and the emptiness itself.

They paused as a set of double doors clicked open at the Altmer’s touch. Darnand walked through slowly, staring up and around. Even Baeralorn’s enthusiastic description had not prepared him for this.

He stood in an oblong room, as wide as it was tall and nearly twice as long. The ceiling soared at least fifty feet above the floor, bathed in magical light. The walls were lined full length with cases, each filled with books, rolled scrolls, and various documents mounted in frames. Three circular platforms stood far above the floor on paneled pedestals. Darnand guessed that they were work areas, but he could not see from this angle. As with the high cases, no means for reaching them was evident. Realization dawned with a shiver. Those who honored the Levitation Act need not bother visiting this library.

A sliver of his mind tried to fit this space into what he had observed from outside the building, while another absently converted the proportions into an equation. He was reminded too late of Jerric’s advice about negotiating with a Nordic prostitute. “Agree on terms before she gets her top off,” his friend had told him. Darnand had dismissed such an event as too unlikely for consideration. Now he realized that he had underestimated Jerric’s wisdom once again. No price would seem too steep, now that Darnand had seen what was on offer.

An elegantly robed Altmer of indeterminable age began walking forward from the far side of the chamber, gaining all of Darnand’s attention. The Altmer’s thin smile told him everything he needed to know. This mer would not waste time on niceties. It would be up to Darnand to agree or depart.

He folded his hands politely and examined the Altmer as he approached. The mer’s skin was smooth, but stretched thin over prominent bones. His silvery hair could be pale blond or something else faded with age. He kept his hands tucked into silken sleeves. His carriage was regal and his progress stately. Darnand’s mind raced as the moments seemed to stretch.

In Anvil, Baeralorn had suggested that Darnand petition Ilmerion for the use of his library, as Baeralorn’s own collection lacked the materials that Darnand required. From his thinly disguised remarks the Altmer was surely a necromancer, among other things. And Baeralorn should know. However he would not have offered an introduction if this mer was likely to kill Darnand. Yet Darnand had little to offer Ilmerion in exchange. The Altmer must have something in mind. Darnand braced himself for an unseemly suggestion.

“You may call me Ilmerion,” said the mer, gliding to a halt just out of reach. He lingered over each word as if savoring it. “You have… questions?”

Darnand decided that introducing himself at this point was simply unnecessary. He tried to keep the tension out of his voice. “Do you use the Arlmilian System?” he asked, nodding at the stacks. It would not do to waste a whole day locating a single resource, regardless of the price.

“Indeed.” Ilmerion paused a moment before continuing. “You will have full access to my library. I shall allow you the use of one office.” He indicated the lowest platform with a glance. “You will not reshelve my materials. Melandiril will assist you. You will leave the library for any physical… needs.” A slight nostril flare dismissed the possibility as beneath Ilmerion. Darnand resolved that he would not have any such needs today, either. His stomach immediately betrayed him with a grumble.

“Ilmerion,” said Darnand, “what may I offer you in return?”

The mer smiled, yellow eyes glittering like a snake’s. “Something that you have in abundance. Your youth and… humanity give you such vitality. I would have just a taste of it.” He leaned forward slightly. “I am skilled enough that you will feel no pain, though some distress would be understandable. I assure you that no lasting harm will result. After all, I wish for us to enjoy a long and mutually beneficial… association.”

“You want my blood?” Darnand blurted, shocked by the bald admission.

Ilmerion made a delicate grimace. “Certainly not. No contact is required for my spell. You may think of it as similar to a Drain effect from your school of Destruction. In time you will recover.”

Darnand’s chest and armpits prickled with sweat. “I expect it is the transfer of energy from one vessel to another, as is done in necromancy. I would know your purpose.”

“It is simple,” said Ilmerion. He placed a languid hand on his own chest. “Here is the receiving vessel. My skills fall between your classifications. You might alternately consider it a restoration.”

Darnand felt a wave of fear along with a vaguely erotic thrill of excitement. Here was more knowledge than he had dreamed to find. Killing someone for their soul energy, enslaving their spirit, or toying with their remains was wrong, clearly. But who was to say that a frantic mother should not be allowed to help her dying child? The mer’s price could give Darnand the means to share energy between living beings, or at least vastly expand his understanding. Abiene’s face shone in his mind, drawn with exhaustion. Why should the burden fall only upon the healers?

His own objections were immediate and strident, but he pushed them away. He found that his throat was too dry to swallow.

“Let us begin,” Darnand said.


Dusk had fallen by the time Darnand reached the edge of the Arena District. Spells had kept him moving through the streets, but he could not seem to hold his headache at bay. He blamed the strain of reading unfamiliar languages in faded, archaic script. When he returned to Ilmerion’s, he would not push himself so hard. And perhaps the next time he could learn more of Ilmerion’s spell.

He easily found the tavern that Lildereth had described. The sign beside the door simply read “Champions.” Darnand entered, too tired to ponder the lack of punctuation.

He spotted Lildereth immediately, kneeling gracefully in a chair so that she could comfortably reach the table. Her snug top reminded him how she looked without it. He quickly squashed that fascinating thought. She was occupied arranging something on a plate while slapping her companion’s hand away.

Beside her sat Jerric, disheveled and sweaty despite the evening’s chill. His teasing grin showed purplish teeth, so they had already started the wine. Darnand almost smiled at the sight.

Jerric saw him and filled another goblet. “Surprised to see me?” he asked. “How was the library?”

It was easy to provide a simplified if slightly misleading version of the day, then relax while Jerric entertained them with his banter. As ever his personality seemed even larger than his person. His… vitality, Ilmerion would say. Darnand shuddered at the memory. He resolved that Jerric and the Altmer should never meet.

“Well, there’s another thing,” Jerric was saying, a note of intensity creeping into his voice. Darnand began to pay attention. “I want to get my ring back from the Imperial Watch. It’s with the stuff they took when they arrested me. Hopefully.”

“Ring?” asked Darnand, grasping for context. When had Jerric been arrested?

“A gold band with a white stone, looks a little like a wedding ring. Except for the words on it. That’s why I had it in my pocket. I didn’t want the ladies to think I was married, cheating on my wife. And by ladies, I mean whores.”

“Why did they not return it to you when you were released?” Lildereth asked. “Had you stolen it?”

“Of course not! I can’t believe you even asked me that. I didn’t get out in the usual way. I, uh… well this is going to sound like a bard’s tale, but I escaped the night the Emperor was murdered. It happened right in front of me. It was a real mess, and I didn’t exactly skip back up to the prison and ask for my things back.”

Darnand stared at him. “You are the only person I have ever known who could make me believe that.”

Lildereth chimed in. “And only you could be insulted that I thought you stole something, then in the same breath tell us that you broke out of the Imperial prison.”

“I didn’t break out, I escaped. It’s different.” Jerric had his detached tone, as if he was speaking about someone else. “I just followed the Emperor and his bodyguards. The Blades, you would not believe how impressive they are. Well, were. Most of them died.” His heavy brow furrowed. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

Lildereth silently shook her head.

“No, I can promise you that,” Darnand told him, filing away the knowledge. There must be a secret passage into the palace through the prison. “What is so special about this ring?”

“My sister had it made for me when I turned twenty-five. Oh, and it helps me absorb magicka from attacks.”

Darnand’s eyebrows went up. “Indeed, that is special. Valuable, too. I hope no one took it.”

“I know. My sister was fighting with her husband when she ordered it, lucky for me. He was pretty mad about it, I can tell you.”

“How does the inscription read?” Darnand asked. “Is it some kind of incantation?”

Jerric cleared his throat. “It says, ‘Hump You, Fetching Mages.’ In very nice lettering. My sister’s sense of humor, I wish you could have met her. Also I want my boots back. They’re my lucky boots.”

Darnand fought the urge to laugh. Nords.

Lildereth spoke up. “Jerric, you were arrested and taken to prison on the night of the Emperor’s assassination, which you say happened right in front of you. How in sixteen realms could that possibly be lucky?”

“I was arrested a day or so before.” Jerric scratched a hand through his hair, a familiar sign of increasing tension. “Imagine what could have happened without the boots. Besides I had on those damn prison sandals for the murder. Maybe my boots would have helped. Anyway that’s all I have from… before. Look, I don’t want to talk about it. You two just think of a plan.”

Darnand decided he could risk one more question. If Jerric got upset, perhaps Lildereth would Calm him. He tried to give her a look, but her beautiful eyes were fixed on their friend.

“That is how you knew about the cult,” Darnand said softly. “Your ordeal did not begin at Kvatch.”

The haunted look from the nights slipped over Jerric’s face. Lildereth reached for his hand.

“Yeah,” he said.

Darnand felt as if he was being shaken like a puzzle board while tiles clicked into place. As Jerric struggled to regain his composure, Darnand fought with his own. If he had made accurate connections, his friend’s burden was far more than one simple man should bear.

“My chamber has a big bed,” Jerric was saying to him. Darnand had missed another change in subject. “There was plenty of room for me and Rilian. You’re taller than him, but he’s…” The Nord made a gesture. “Shoulders.” He cut his eyes at Lildereth, his smile slowly returning. “And there’s always room for one more page in a book, elflet.”

“My accommodations are comfortable, but thank you for the offer,” Lildereth replied. She lifted the wine. “Is there room for one more drop in your goblet?”

“Always.” Jerric took the bottle and emptied it between the three of them. “Staying with a friend?” he asked her.

She answered with a cool look. Darnand sighed. One lifetime of study would not be enough for him to pry information out of Lildereth, and Jerric fared no better. Jerric’s gaze turned to Darnand.

The thought of the dismal subterranean hostel made him cringe, yet Jerric’s tendency to smother his bedfellows could result in Darnand being the one who woke up screaming. He decided that his own comfort was secondary to his friend’s. Besides, he did not relish the thought of facing tonight’s darkness alone. “I accept,” he said. “Lildereth, I shall walk with you back to the university and collect my things. If that is where you are bound?”

“I’ll go with you, too,” Jerric said as she nodded. “This day has been too much sitting.” Jerric pointed at Darnand’s plate. “Eat up, Breton, you’re looking puny. I have some books for you to ponder over later. Do you read Dunmeris?”

“Some,” Darnand admitted, thinking of the translations in his shoulder pack. He picked up his spoon.

Jerric grinned. “You should get ready to expand your vocabulary.”




.

Darnand is much different from when he first met Jerric. I remember him scoffing at the idea of using a knife to harvest ingredients. I’m sure that Darnand didn’t do any exercising either. He’s no fighter, but a good set of legs will help anyone when Bad things happen.

What a library! I thought Darnand was going to pass out!

“Agree on terms before she gets her top off”
I like this because that’s exactly what Jerric would say, and I like it how Darnand swapped prostitute for library. I’m not exactly sure what the heck Darnand did to gain entry, but yikes. that guy sounded like a vampire of some type. I hope Darnand doesn’t have to go back there very often.

Lildereth has a point. Escaping prison is a teeny bit worse than stealing a ring I think.

The dinner conversation was neat. Jerric really spilled some news on them that I thought he would have kept to himself. Maybe that wasn't the first bottle.

Beautiful!!... ...

Loved it...

That library was so beautifully realised...I really felt myself there...Must...Build...Library...Like that...*Sighs happily*... ...

OOoh, talking of which...



That was so Gary Oldman as the old Dracula in the castle...Creepy and brilliant at the same time...

That whole section was brilliant...So brilliant...

I likes me Darnand I do... ...

And you could feel the affection at the end between the three of them...Another display of brilliance...Made me laugh so much...

This had me in stitches...



Oh hells that was funny... ...

Absolutely nice one with added bells on!!...

*Applauds till he gets slapped by the wife for interrupting the repeat of Castle...*... ...

He was reminded too late of Jerric’s advice about negotiating with a Nordic prostitute. “Agree on terms before she gets her top off,”
I like the way you left us wondering if Jerric was being literal or metaphoric when he said that. Probably both. And it was also indicative of something that Darnand thought of that saying, especially as later he starts to notice Lildereth.
Her snug top reminded him how she looked without it. He quickly squashed that fascinating thought.
and later
He tried to give her a look, but her beautiful eyes were fixed on their friend.

Is it Springtime?

Another bit that caught my eye: "How in sixteen realms could that possibly be lucky?” A very TES way of putting it.

And right at the end I see that Jerric's intending to give him the book he bought at The First Edition, as well as the Commentaries. So Jerric's noticed Darnand noticing Lildereth?

What a great opening! You so deftly and naturally let us know exactly where we were, how and why Darnand got up early, and even gave us a clever glimpse into an everyday use of nighteye.

’Highly polished stone floors and walls suggested opulence without offering comfort.’
Another example of a Grits masterpiece where you paint by words. So much evocatively said in so few words. Wow!

Like KC, I adored the Nordic prostitute angle on keeping Jerric fresh in our minds -- such an astutely appropriate observation that, once again, leaves me in awe of your cleverness.

Ilmerion’s offer and Darnand’s considered response were handled perfectly to optimize tension – you told us just enough, but not too much.

’He spotted Lildereth immediately, kneeling gracefully in a chair so that she could comfortably reach the table.’
The elf on my shoulder is smacking herself on the forehead for not thinking of this improved access to ‘normal’ size tables from ‘normal’ size chairs.

“How in sixteen realms could that possibly be lucky?”
I love the reference to the realms of Daedric Princes.

Wonderful friendships and trusts confirmed in the latter conversations of this episode.

What a treat!


Nit: ’If only others possessed the same discipline, he thought, stepping over discarded clothing and empty bottles with distain.’
Distain is an archaic verb meaning to discolor stain or sully. Although it is not what you want here, it will not be highlighted by spell check because, again, it is a word – just not the one you want here. What you want in this passage (similar to the nit in your last episode) is the word disdain, which suits your purpose perfectly.

I just noticed that the word "mother of mine" (singular) is bowdlerized but "whores" (plural) isn't. Wassup with that?

This post of course illustrates the effect.

Surely the guild could spare them a few glowstones.
I loved Darnand's observations about how the guild treats is low-ranking members. Closing the Arcane U to most of the Mages Guild always struck me as ridiculous, and especially those silly recommendation quests.

Those who honored the Levitation Act need not bother visiting this library.
This gave me a grin.

Ilmerion is an intriguing fellow. An old Altmer, which says something right there. To even look old, he must be 4-5 centuries? He undoubtedly remembers what Tamriel was like before Tiber Talos came along. The barreness of the outer areas of his home, juxtaposed with the extraordinary nature of his library, reveal where his passions lie. It also makes me think he is someone who does not do anything half-way. He is either totally committed to something, or he does not waste one moment's breath on it at all.

the Arlmilian System?
I was almost expecting the Dewenor Decimal System

Killing someone for their soul energy, enslaving their spirit, or toying with their remains was wrong, clearly. But who was to say that a frantic mother should not be allowed to help her dying child?
And so Darth Darnand Vader began his path down the dark side... I love his rationalizations. Not that I doubted what he would do for a moment.

Now I wonder if Ilmerion might be at least twice the age I first thought? Perhaps even much older then that? He is a wonderfully intriguing character. I hope we see more of him. Even if we have to wait until Darnand becomes a Necromancer in book 2.


nits:
From his thinly disguised remarks the Altmer was a surely a necromancer,
I think the first "a" is a leftover from a previous edit. Perhaps it was reanimated by the libarary's owner?

Elflet. Hehe I love it. Very interesting about Ilmerion, I'm looking forward to seeing more about that. The the banter between Jerric, Darnand and Lildereth was great as always. I'll also mention Darnand's realization of what Jerric's been going through, just because I'm not quite sure what to say about it other than pointing out the fact that it's awesome. If I may state the obvious. Such perception Darnand has.

YAY!!!! Finally caught up....the humor that catches you off guard is so much fun. The entire deal with the ring and prison was great!

Ilmerion is frighteningly interesting...the descriptions of the manor and the absence of softness or comfort was chilling but man do I want some time in that library...I LOVE book stores but sadly there are so few left.

The entire story is quite wonderful and I do enjoy reading about Jerric and the characters that fade in and out of his life...I will work harder at keeping up, my apologies Grits for being remiss with one of my favorite stories.

11, 7

What a subtle way to show Jerric’s growing skill as an alchemist- with his potions coming out clear.

[quote]“That used to be someone’s kids, Darnand. No matter how they ended up undead, making potions out of them doesn’t seem right.”[/quote]

Especially given all he is experienced, Jerric’s feelings are more than just admirable.

[quote]“Sitting still. Just what I’m good at.” Jerric ran his hand through his hair, restless at the thought.[/quote]

Love that bit of character building.

And yes! He has achieved Mastery of Alchemy!

[quote]“Though it would be nice to get a finer grind from a mortar and pestle. When we were in Garlas Malatar, I almost choked to death on a bit of mushroom. Then I thought Lildereth was going to shoot me for the noise I made coughing it up.”

You will make twice as many potions for Kvatch now, if you can resist the urge to fry up your potatoes.”

“I’d need a bigger calcinator,” Jerric said thoughtfully. His stomach gurgled.[/quote]

And- as ever- the back and forth between Jerric and Darnand is just so much fun. And that includes the “grooming tips” before the feast.

11, 8

[quote]A full belly, a warm fire, and clothing, he thought. Choose any two.[/quote]

The motto on Jerric’s heraldry, no doubt.

[quote]Lildereth’s voice sounded strained. “Here, you just have to—” Snap. “A lighter touch on the wrench, and—” Snap. “Jerric, you—” Snap. “Argh!” Snap.[/quote]

The scene before the fire is just one of those pictures that is so wonderful I would have to quote it all. Then we get to learn more about Lildereth, too.

[quote]She stood within his easy reach, but might as well be in Bruma. Wanting her went far beyond his body’s ache. Who cares what eyes are watching, he thought with some resentment. I love her. The rest is foolishness. He quickly crushed the thought.[/quote]

Wow.

11, 9

The whole scene with the daedroth is another that I would have to quote in full to do justice. Wonderfully descriptive- and terrifying. Well- have to highlight this part:

[quote]“Do you think you could have cast a spell?” Darnand asked. Jerric still couldn’t see him, his gaze seemed stuck to the ceiling.

“I know spells?” I’m alive, Jerric thought. That was the stupidest idea ever.[/quote]

And this one:

[quote]He saw Rhano and Darnand exchange a look, and he smiled to himself. The common ground was slim between the two of them. Jerric knew that he occupied all of it.[/quote]

11, 10

[quote]Jerric had been using this route for exercise since he grew large enough to pose a hazard to the public by running inside the city.[/quote]

Now there is a picture.

The entire part with bears and tree rats was great fun, including this:

[quote]Jerric realized that the golden bear had a familiar yet somewhat unusual combination of West Weald accent and Gold Coast drawl.[/quote]

[quote]Jerric unhooked his helmet and put it on. He drank his first shield potion before she could remind him. “Anything else?”

“Your fly is open,” Lildereth said without looking.

Jerric checked, but it was laced.[/quote]

Simply love this Bosmer archer.

And a dog- woo hoo!

11, 11

The scene as Jerric makes the decision to kill the Altmer was incredibly powerful.

And then the entire fight in the final room, especially with Jerric under the influence of the Coommand.

[quote]“Well,” Jerric said after a moment, “at least they’re not sitting around talking about us.”[/quote]

And what more is there to say, really?

11, 12

Hooray for Ulfe.

[quote]“I doubt she was an innocent,” Lildereth told him. “If you dream of assassins, you’ll know she was.”

Jerric decided he wouldn’t notice one more bad dream.[/quote]

11, 13

[quote]Darnand cleared his throat. “How goes the poison training?” he asked.

Lildereth slipped into the room behind Jerric. “I’d sooner teach a boar to sew,” she spat.

Jerric didn’t look at her. “Nothing but rules, this one,” he told the table. “‘Don’t cut yourself! Don’t pull the cork with your teeth! Don’t spill the poison! Don’t touch your face! Quit wiping your fingers on your shirt!’” He realized that the crunching sound was coming from his knuckles.[/quote]

I have a feeling some folk who tried to teach me had similar feelings about it.

[quote]Jerric had discovered that while the hound seemed tireless outdoors, under a roof she became almost immobile.[/quote]

There speaks a person who knows dogs.

Shasana’s greeting was quite wonderful.

[quote]His friend’s face could have been made of stone. He lost them all too, Jerric thought. It’s worse when we’re here. He wants to run from me as much as I want to get away. But this is something we can do for Ongve and Shasana.[/quote]

And there is the part of loss that makes it even harder.

11,14

This one is filled with descriptive passages that I envy. I will note only a few, lest I simply copy and paste the whole thing.

[quote]At the guild hall he often moved like a horse surprised to find itself at a tea party.[/quote]

[quote]“For me it’s a matter of exchanging cold for heat in the water,” Lildereth explained. “Fire has nothing to do with it.”[/quote]

[quote]"You must see me take a turn about the floor with Carahil. It is the dance of the chaffinch and the crane.”[/qoute]

[qoute]And the bonding of Lildereth and Abiene is a joy to see, even as I wonder at the Bosmer’s tiredness….[/quote]

Holy Crap, what a chapter! I don't like the after effects of Darnard's experimental step into the world of necromancy. His quest for knowledge may put him in more danger than he realizes. Jerric finally opening up the nightmares was odd, since Baurus warned him anyone that knew may be in danger - something is going on there, and I feel like I've been left hanging on a cliff with this chapter. It is always an Awesome Write when you are weilding the keyboard, but this chapter in particular left more questions than answered any - I am intrigued !!!!

King Coin: I’m glad you pointed out the difference in Darnand since he met Jerric. He is definitely more connected to the rest of the world now. If Baurus knew the information that Jerric had spilled at dinner, his head would explode. Jerric is not a very good secret agent! At least he hasn’t mentioned Martin, yet. I’m glad the Altmer sounded something like a vampire, that’s just what I was aiming for. Thank you, KC!

McBadgere: I had to control myself with the library description, or we would spend the next two updates there. I had fun with it. You are so right, I’m sure I was thinking of Gary Oldman when I wrote Ilmerion! In the movie he even had a butt-shaped hairstyle, just like some Altmers. Thank you, McB!

ghastley: I discovered when I wrote in the Skyrim thread that Jensa described herself as a “drunken dreamy school girl,” but she and a friend would be “drunken sluts.” Maybe allowing the plural is just an oversight? You did notice Darnand noticing Lildereth, but I’m sure that Jerric expects him to enjoy the book solo rather than read it to her. And if there’s a way to prank Darnand with erotic drawings, Jerric will find it. Thank you, ghastley!

Acadian: Argh, that word again! Thank you for pointing it out. As long as we have Altmers and Darnand in the story, we will have disdain. Perhaps next time I will get it right!! Thank you for your encouraging words about the scene with Ilmerion. Part of those two characters in that situation was that explanations would not be offered or required between them. That was not easy for me to write! I’m glad you enjoyed Lildereth’s restaurant antics. The elf-sized female in my household is a constant source of inspiration!

SubRosa: I was tempted to use the Dwemer Decimal System, but that was too silly even for me. Thanks for finding that stray “a,” I put it to rest. Darnand shares your opinion of the new guild restrictions. I’m glad you pointed out his annoyance, it was another little nudge toward Ilmerion’s way. You picked up what I was trying to show about Ilmerion, thank you! I’m not sure how much time he will get in the story, but you have nailed his potential influence on Darnand. Ilmerion also has me digging through game books to learn more so I can write for him. Jerric’s Story is in danger of becoming Everyone’s Story!

RainbowVeins: It’s great to hear from you! Thank you for pointing out the depth of Darnand’s understanding of Jerric, it means a lot that it’s coming through. Darnand’s tendency to hyper-focus sometimes makes him oblivious to things, but it also leads to some solid insights. I’m glad you enjoyed the banter. For all that they’ve been through, their friendship is still fairly new, so it’s fun for me to show them staying connected.

Athynae: I’m so glad you’re reading! Free time is precious, and it is an honor that you choose to spend some of yours with this story. I know how it is, I’m still catching up on some of the other stories here. We’ll be here whenever you have time for us! I’m glad you enjoy the humor. Jerric can be such fun to write. Thank you, Athynae!!

treydog: So many of the quotes you highlighted were the inspiration points for their whole sections. Your comments had me nodding and grinning throughout. It means so much that they stood out to you. I loved writing the Anvil days, and I have to confess that I enjoyed revisiting those sections through your comments. At the time that I wrote those parts, I was not sure that what I wanted to convey was coming through. Being objective about my own characters is something I’ve not learned yet. I’m so glad you like Lildereth. It has been tricky for me to express her complicated character without having it look like inconsistencies or dumping a bunch of background that she would not choose to share. Thank you so much for your encouragement, treydog!!

mALX: You’re absolutely right, Darnand is paying a price for knowledge that his friends would think is insane. I can just hear him saying, “I can handle it.” Jerric will certainly kick himself over telling them about the Emperor, as it’s one step closer to blurting out something about hope for the future and Martin. He was not thinking beyond his trust in them and his need for help in getting his gear back. He really stinks at being a spy. Thank you for pointing that out, mALX! You brought out the two things that I thought were the most important in this update!


Where we are: The Imperial City. Darnand spent the day in the private library of an ancient and well-preserved Altmer, Ilmerion. The admission price was a slice of Darnand’s “vitality,” which he was assured would grow back in time. Ilmerion indicated that he would like Darnand to return. Then Lildereth and Jerric met Darnand for dinner. Jerric surprised them with his announcement that he had witnessed and been unable to prevent the murder of Emperor Uriel. They made a plan to get Jerric’s stuff back from the Imperial Prison, including an enchanted ring and charmed boots. Darnand agreed to room with Jerric at the King and Queen Tavern.

A memory refresher: Jerric used to work as a caravan guard for his family’s company, Running Wolf Postal and Freight. He was promoted to his (much older) brother Rothmund’s route between Kvatch and the Imperial City just before the assassination.

A thought: Lore gives us the Earthbones, so I’m going to quit avoiding words containing “earth.”



Chapter 14: The Imperial City, Part Eight

Darnand had already gone by the time Jerric awakened. He spent the morning looking for work. To his annoyance the first Fighters Guild hall that he found was only an office handling long-term contracts for local, non-residential members. He had to walk to the Arena District chapter for temporary work. There he took a contract guarding sewer workers for the rest of the week, starting the next day. Between the low pay, the stench, and the occasional vampire, it seemed they had trouble keeping guards. Jerric signed the paperwork and accepted a Guild surcoat without enthusiasm.

He was soon grateful for the opportunity he would have to refill his coin purse. The walk to the Waterfront took him through every kind of urban neighborhood he could imagine, and many streets were lined with food vendors. It was a culinary tour of the provinces.

Though he had not entered the Running Wolf offices or warehouse during his first visit to the Imperial City, he knew where to find them. A pleasant Imperial woman directed him to the boss's office.

Simeon the White Pate was a sturdy, weathered Nord in possession of a full head of iron-grey hair, and his beard was almost as dark. He looked up from his parchment with an expression that did not invite whimsy. Jerric decided that the story of his name would have to wait for another day. There was no telling how this man would receive him. A direct approach might be best.

“I’m Jerric.”

The man stared at him for a long moment. His face remained rigid, but his eyes filled with pain. “I know who you are. You have the look of your ma’s folk.”

Jerric didn’t have a reply to that. “Pleased to meet you. I need your help.”

“Name it.”

“You’ll get a message for me from Phintias of First Edition in the Market District,” Jerric told him. “I need it to find me as fast as possible. I’ll be in one of the Mages Guild chapter halls. I’m headed to Chorrol in a few days. I’ll send a message when I leave there, to tell you where I’m going next.”

“It will be done.”

Jerric spent a moment in surprise. He didn’t know the history between Simeon and his parents, but the man’s accent told him it probably went back to Skyrim. He knew that Simeon and his father had trusted one another, but were not friends. Also, his own reputation was not unblemished. He had expected at least some resistance from Simeon.

“What did she tell you about me?” Simeon asked.

“Who?”

“You’re as thick as your da. Who do you think? Sonstra. Your ma.”

Jerric was too startled to be insulted. Besides, it was true. “Uh… nothing. You’re one of the partners. Why?”

Simeon stared some more, still stone-faced. “You ever think about going to Skyrim, you come see me first. You’re a Hammer-Helm, to those with the eyes to see it. There are things you should know.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Or ask Ongve.”

Jerric’s life-long curiosity about his family’s history seemed to have fallen into the gulf left by their passing. He left Simeon the White Pate without further questions and made the long trek back across the city to the Imperial Prison.

Lildereth was scouting a nearby ruin for Welkynd stones, so they had agreed that Darnand would help Jerric at the prison. They were to meet in the Market District.

Jerric found himself walking behind a woman whose clingy gown did little to minimize her figure’s bounce and sway. The occasional glimpse of her profile made him suspect she had alteration magic on her side. To his delight, she led him all the way to where Darnand waited, sitting cross-legged at the base of a statue. He held a book open in his hands, but his eyes weren’t on the page.

Jerric gave Darnand’s knee a nudge to secure his attention. “That was worth the wait, wouldn’t you say?”

His friend looked at him with a complete lack of comprehension.

“Darnand, she walked right past you.” He tried to point to her without pointing. “Her mountains could blot out the sun. Are you saying you didn’t see her?”

Darnand pinched the bridge of his nose. “Apologies. I was involved with my thoughts. I must admit, at times I fail to see that which is directly before me.” He slid down from his perch. “Good morning.”

“Afternoon,” said Jerric. He walked so that his shoulder opened a path for both of them. “Remember the plan?”

Darnand nodded. “I remember.”

The Prison District was enclosed by a circular wall and laid out in fashion that was similar to the Arcane University. A high bridge connected it to the City Isle. The sunken gardens were replaced by utility yards and offices for the Legion. The metal gates bore an Imperial symbol instead of the Mages Guild’s eye. These gates stood open. Jerric could see legionnaires drilling on the grounds. As always, he marveled at so many men and women doing exactly as they were told.

Armored guards stood at the base of the steps. “We have business at the Bastion,” Jerric told them. A cold breeze across his face told him that he was sweating. They were directed up the steps and into the central tower.

A grizzled Redguard man in Legion plate sat behind a polished desk in the middle of the round chamber. He regarded them without expression as they approached.

Jerric tripped heavily against the desk to distract him while Darnand cast a Charm spell.

The guard lunged to his feet. “Have you lost your mind, boy? Damned spell-caster. I ought to lock you up for assault.” He stuck a thumb into his own chest, but did not reach for his mace. “Sign of the Atronach. Didn’t work on me. Now what do you want, citizens?”

Darnand looked like a startled deer. He was capable of very quick thinking, but he was best when thoroughly prepared. No brilliant plan seemed forthcoming from the Breton. Jerric was at a loss. Darnand was the brains, and Lildereth was… the rest of the brains. How could they have no backup plan?

The jailer looked like he was losing his patience. Jerric cleared his throat.

“Look. I got locked up the last time I was in town, and I never made it back up here for my gear. Got into a fight. There was a mix-up when I got… released, but I can give you my name, date of arrest, anything you need. Just ask the question. My answer will be the same as what’s in your intake ledger. You have my shirt, trousers, belt, coin purse, and boots. Two short blades. If I don’t get my boots back… Well, you know how hard it is to break in new boots.”

“They sent you down below for brawling?” asked the jailer.

“I guess I was not a gentleman.”

The jailer continued to glare for a long moment. “Name?” he finally said.

Jerric felt a cold rush of relief. “Jerric Kjellingson of Kvatch, arrested Last Seed the twenty-fifth.”

The Redguard’s face filled with an angry kind of hurt. He walked into the left side passage, eyes downcast in a way that was familiar. In a few moments he returned with a coarse linen sack and a new attitude. “Still tied and sealed, look there.”

“You had someone in Kvatch?” Jerric asked.

The man gave a quick nod. Jerric knew that was all that needed to be said.

Jerric waited until he and Darnand got out into the sun before he rummaged through his belongings. A part of him grieved that the shirt he had worn that day was not one that his ma had made for him.

His trousers smelled dreadful and held some crusty stains. The ring was still in a pocket. Jerric felt almost weak with relief as he slipped it on and looked down at his hand. It was as familiar as the scars on his knuckles. Sunlight flashed in the clear stone, throwing tiny rainbows across his doublet. He smiled at the elegant lettering with its coarse message. His sister Svanja had somehow possessed both earthiness and refinement. Jerric’s throat began to ache with memories.

The ring was loose, so he moved it to his middle finger. Now it was a reminder that things were not the same.

“Telling the truth was not an option I considered,” said Darnand, interrupting Jerric’s darkening thoughts. “I must admit, I am impressed with your acting. You had me convinced that you might actually vomit.”

“That’s how I look when I think about lying,” Jerric explained. “It’s not so good when someone asks me if I like their cooking. Or, gods help me, if their waist looks thick in a certain dress.”

“I am relieved that the Watch did not want you for questioning.”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. “That crossed my mind, too. I guess they don’t really have a procedure for losing prisoners. Now that I think about it, they probably didn’t even know that I left. They should have stuck me in the overnight lockup, but I guess I must have made the arresting officers pretty mad. Someone thought they should issue me prison garb and bury me in the dark for a few days, anyway. It might even have been Rothmund. Paying off a guard so I’d have to walk home to Kvatch by myself would have been his style. I could never tell which was worse, when I disappointed him or when I failed to disappoint him.”

Jerric handed the bundle and Fighters Guild surcoat to Darnand and bent to remove his boots.

“These boots do not carry a good luck charm,” Darnand remarked.

“What are you talking about? Of course they do. My ma gave them to me. She would never tell me a lie!” Jerric found that the front of Darnand’s robe was twisted into his fist. He let go and brushed off his friend, calming himself.

“Hold your temper. Read the enchantment.”

Jerric did, and his eyebrows went up. “It’s a charm to let me move faster.” He paused, puzzled.

“What exactly did your mother say when she gave them to you?”

“She had just spent a pile of gold paying a healer to put my front teeth back in, and I came home with them in my pocket again. She said if I didn’t have the sense to keep my hands up in a fight, maybe these boots would help. And I should think about those who had to look at the face I brought home.” He smiled at the memory. “That was my ma for you.”

“So…”

“Not a good luck charm.” Jerric had a distressing thought. “Stendarr’s stones! The coins I wagered wearing these boots! The coins I lost!”

“Well, they would have been lost when—” Darnand suddenly looked horrified.

Jerric stomped into the charmed boots while he pulled himself together. “You’re right, it’s all rain into Lake Rumare now.” He shook his head. “Now I’m starting to remember all the times I did get lucky. I guess it wasn’t the boots.” He grinned when he got the expected look from Darnand.

“I suppose you will want to blame them for your unfortunate speed in some of those instances.”

Jerric laughed. “I guess I have a new excuse for my occasional shortcomings. No, a new reason. Serves me right. I always knew it was rude to keep my boots on.”

I enjoyed the touch on this one. I'm not sure what the relationship between Simeon and Jerric's mother was, though speculation is ... never mind....the scene between them was very well done.

That line makes you go HHMM????

When Darnand cast the charm spell I was like OOPPSIE, sounds like a Thyna moment, but it all turned out thankfully. The truth is always worth a shot....

Jerric realizing the boots were not 'lucky' just fast was priceless, what good is a good luck charm if it isn't lucky...rabbit's foot anyone? Where did I put that rabbit???

Looking forward to more Grits...always worth reading, always.

YAY!!... ...

Loves me Jerric do I!!...

I thought the first bit where he's going to be spending the time working for the Fighters Guild was nicely done, and the walk through the various districts was brilliant...I could feel the whole thing...Nice one!!...



Is an excellent name!!...And an intriguing character...I too wish to know the history there... ...

The section with him running through the pack of his clothes and things was beautiful...You could feel him get all emotional...Again, brilliantly done...

MORE!!!... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...

How did Hidy Heidi get into your story?

I'm a little surprised that Jerric didn't consider the Atronach possibility when putting plan A together. But plan B probably worked better anyway.

That made me expect "Fortify Block" rather than Speed. “Now I’m starting to remember all the times I did get lucky. I guess it wasn’t the boots.” Block might be useful here too.

My take on "earth" is that it's a legitimate word for soil, or ground, rather than planet. My general test is to assume the story was translated into English from Cyrodiilic. If there isn't a better word, use it.

I feel your pain on using the world "earth". I always want to say: unearthly, or earthenware, or earthworks, or 'and handful of earth', etc... Bethesda made the mistake of naming their world Nirn instead of Earth. But then they go and write 'earth' all the the time, like with the earthbones, and a zillion other things. Why did they call it Nirn then? This is why you should always name your fantasy world earth.

The IC Fighters Guild protects sewer workers? I love the idea! Now that is a crappy job!

A Hammer-Helm? I can tell that was inspired by the Battle-Borns and Grey Manes. An excellent Nord clan name. Even if it does imply that they spend their time banging their heads against the wall! Or perhaps because of it?

As always, he marveled at so many men and women doing exactly as they were told.
This is a wonderfully insightful look into Jerric's character. I am the same way. I could never handle being in the military, I am too much of a free spirit.

Someone got upset when a charm spell was cast upon them! Yay! It never made sense that you could just go around casting spells on people in the game, and no one would pay attention to it.

This chapter had it all: The mystery of Jerric's lineage, the ever-present pain of Kvatch shared with the prison guard - huge surprise when he caught Darnand's spell, Jerric's always roving mind and humor. I can't help but worry about Darnand's distraction, but he pulled himself together for that last paragraphs on the boots - that had me rolling !!! As always, absolutely AWESOME Write !!!!!!!

Yes, this episode covered a lot of ground – and beautifully.

’Jerric was too startled to be insulted. Besides, it was true.’
How very Jerric!

’Jerric’s life-long curiosity about his family’s history seemed to have fallen into the gulf left by their passing.’
A superbly worded extrication from the tantalizing conversation that preceded.

’He walked so that his shoulder opened a path for both of them.’
Just as you reminded us of Lildereth’s size by having her kneel on a chair in the last episode, here you remind us of Jerric’s.

’Darnand was the brains, and Lildereth was… the rest of the brains.’
As I encountered the '...' in the middle of this passage, I was anticipating another Gritty jewel of sexual innuendo; this was even better!

“She had just spent a pile of gold paying a healer to put my front teeth back in, and I came home with them in my pocket again. She said if I didn’t have the sense to keep my hands up in a fight, maybe these boots would help. And I should think about those who had to look at the face I brought home.” He smiled at the memory. “That was my ma for you.”
Aww, this was beautiful.

“You’re right, it’s all rain into Lake Rumare now.”
How wonderfully scene appropriate. The very end part about Jerric's boots reminded me of Koalas and the use of commas. A Koala eats roots, shoots and leaves. It seems Jerric eats, roots, shoots and leaves.

… and many streets were lined with food vendors.
Jerric’s not going to be able to fit into that surcoat.

Now I’m interested in Jerric’s family. Maybe a trip to Skyrim in the far future?

Oh wow. Getting the gear back could have turned out a lot worse.

Hah! The “lucky boots” were still well worth going back for though!

And caught up.... Woo that was long and fun.

First thing - really great characters. They spring to life and have their flaws and strengths. Their interactions are a joy to read. You've created ones who fit together just as often as they don't with great interactions either way. They change too, particularly between Darnard and Jerric who have worn the edges which didn't mesh off each other slowly over the process of the last 14 chapters.

I like how progressive the changes have been too, Kvatch certainly changed Jerric a bit, but there's a lot of the old Jerric there. Darnard has had no real turning point, except possibly with the deadroth and the sirens, but is a very different character now than he was at the start. Jerric has improved him and made him a lot more determined and less reserved, but I think he might have created a bit of a nutter too. His thirst for knowledge, and particularly forbidden knowledge, really leaps off the page but he always seems on the verge of slipping into something a bit darker than is perhaps wise. But always for the right reasons, selling a bit of his vitality for access to vast knowledge makes sense at the time, taking papers from necromancers? Why not, better than burning them. But it all sets precidents. I rather wonder if and when it will bite him or he'll go too far.

Jerric is fun, its so rare to have a hero who is so real. He's fundamentally okay but likes a drink and a fight and a bit of womanising. And he's not the brightest which is a real challenge to write but he flows so perfectly and leaps from the page. His fling with Abienne was great to read, you caught the slight awkwardness of fun slipping towards more when it shouldn't and both them knowing it was happening but not doing anything about it. Really very well written, I can see that little disaster dragging on when they reach Chorrol.

Lildereth is a bit of a wild card, not the sort of character you would associate with the comic pairing of Jerric and Darnard, but one who works well. You have her perfectly pitched, aloof and slightly disant and superior but with the occasional crack showing some of the person within. She has something she wants, and I'm not sure how the other two will take it when they find out.

The final comment I'll make on the piece as a whole is how well you manage to mix the humour and darkness of it together. There's something quite moreish and engaging about how it can go from Jerric being slapstick and inappropriate to really dark sections with him technically murdering and the death of Kvatch. His sister's ring captures that quite well with the humorous inscription but painful memories. It works for this piece.

You have some nice ideas too, connecting restoration and necromancy is novel, but makes sense in a way. Along with a huge number of other things - the women using alteration for her figure, the crowds at the daedric shrines, the real working feel of the towns - it really brings your ambitious version of Cyrodiil to life.


On the subject of this chapter. The plot continues to fascinate, what is Darnard doing in the library, what more will he find, and how bad is that price? The idea of needing fighters to guard sewage workers makes sense and continues to enrich your setting, again I wonder if Jerric will turn up more then he expects.

Great stuff

Athynae: Jerric might not have made a wrong assumption if he had just listened to his mother!! Thank you for the reassurance about the scene with Simeon. There’s no “I am your father” moment coming, Jerric is definitely Kjelling’s son. But there is a story that I hope to explore someday, either with or without Jerric. Learning things about your parents tends to change the way you think of them, and Jerric might not get to a point where he could handle that.

McBadgere: Here’s more without too much delay, since this part was the last part of the previous part, until it all got a little too long. I’m glad that looking through his things had an impact. Even the good memories still bring him kind of a punch in the gut. I am SO in awe of the names in your story, you have inspired me to keep trying until I get one I love! Thank you, McB!

ghastley: The mountainous maiden was definitely a tribute to ghastley’s glorious girls. Fortify Block is a great idea! Sonstra went with the more aggressive choice of getting his strikes in quicker, since her lad was utterly failing to block. I hope I can take him to Skyrim someday. Shields were made for bashing!! They’re all going to be kicking themselves over the Atronach oversight. With bottles of wine on the table, no threat of imminent death, and enjoying each other’s company, they didn’t take the plan very seriously. Thanks for your input on the wording. Assuming that the whole thing is translated is a great way to look at it.

SubRosa: I had the worst time coming up with a clan name. Everything sounded like a male body part joke. (Ha! The censor turned the technical term into “panda bear.”) I blame Jerric’s snickering influence. At first I had Sonstra as a Free-Winter. That one’s my favorite from the game. They sure picked the wrong guy to botch up the charm spell! They could have ended up sending Lildereth notes from prison. Thank you, SubRosa!

mALX: Thank you, mALX! Jerric is also concerned enough about Darnand’s distraction to not even take advantage of it (yet). I’m sure he’ll get Lildereth to find out what’s going on, sooner or later!

Acadian: Eats, roots, shoots, and leaves?! I have been laughing all week about that! I’m glad you enjoyed the little glimpse of Jerric’s Ma. By the time he came along, she had seen it all. I was a little worried about bringing up a mystery and then attempting a side-step, whew! And of course, hearing that something is very Jerric just warms my heart. Thank you, Acadian!

King Coin: Someone’s going to Skyrim, but I’m not sure who or when it will be. The thing I hoped for the most is that Skyrim would provide a good setting for non-dragon Jerric adventures. It really, really has. I need to stop writing when I’m hungry, or send Jerric on a few more laps around the city! Thank you, KC!

Olen: I’m so glad you’re reading! Getting through the whole story up to this point is a major commitment, and I appreciate it so much. Your comments delighted me beyond words, because they show that you really know these characters. I often don’t know why I’m including certain bits that don’t have anything to do with the plot but just let the characters be who they are. I know that I enjoy the many side-trips and diversions, and I’m very glad that so much came across through the wandering. I am especially amazed by how well you get Lildereth, since many of her lines and even scenes get cut out for too much explaining. She is a bit of a mystery even to herself, and the question of what the fellows will do when she finally lets them know what she’s after is also in the front of her mind. I have fretted over the mixture of humor and darkness. I don’t want to make light of events, but Jerric’s humor helps keep him moving forward. Also he does tend to pick the wrong times to take off his pants. I blame him for those parts. Thank you, thank you Olen!


Where we are: Evening in the Imperial City. Jerric spent the morning securing a Fighters Guild contract and making contact with the other of his father’s business partners. Then he and Darnand went to the Imperial Prison and retrieved the items that were left behind when he escaped with the Emperor, including his enchanted boots and ring. Lildereth and Ulfe are off pursuing their own concerns.




Chapter 14: The Imperial City, Part Nine

Back at the King and Queen Tavern, Darnand headed straight to the room while Jerric ordered their dinner. A large group of loosely related Redguards and Imperials had taken over the tavern’s public room for some family celebration. By the time Jerric’s food arrived, they had invited him to join them.

Jerric left his plate and took Darnand’s up. He found his friend deep in study, the small table already layered with his materials. Jerric found a spot for the plate. He decided not to pour him a goblet of wine. Darnand would not thank him if it got spilled on the Commentaries. Neither would Tar-Meena.

After a moment Jerric realized that Darnand was unaware of his presence. He considered his options, then decided to leave him unmolested. He’s working on your behalf, Jerric told himself. If you annoy him, then you’ll have to do it.

The party turned out to be the fiftieth birthday of an apple-cheeked woman who didn’t look a day over seventy. Jerric raised a tankard and wished her fifty more. He ate his meal squeezed on a bench between sisters who laughed, bickered, and drank with equal enthusiasm. Their friendly rivalry brought tears to his eyes. These strangers felt like home. Without even thinking, he kept an arm free for passing the pitchers, cakes, and babies around the table.

When the plates were cleared, Jerric found himself in possession of a particularly solemn and round-eyed specimen. “Story!” the toddler demanded.

It was decided that it was indeed Jerric’s turn to share an adventure. He wiped the lad’s nose on his sleeve, tucked him under an arm, and told the tale of Savlian Matius and the Heroes of Kvatch.

Later he turned down some very tempting offers in favor of doing the laundry. It was true what they said: a warrior may draw the maidens’ eyes, but it’s the bard who makes their panties slide off.

He returned to their chamber to find Darnand hunched over a sheet of parchment, his food untouched. It looked like he was writing a letter.

“Who are you writing to?” asked Jerric, stringing a line across the room. He began to hang their linens to dry.

“Abiene. I hope it will reach her before we do.”

“Oh, write something for me.”

Darnand readied the quill. “Go ahead.”

“‘I wish you were here to look after Darnand,’” Jerric said in a sing-song tone. “‘He needs someone to remind him he should eat and change his socks.’” Darnand placed the quill on the table and reached for his plate. Jerric grinned. “What did you make of those books?”

“I am left with a great desire to study the Mysterium Xarxes itself. Mankar Camoran’s ambitions seem to be based upon realistic expectations. He must possess terrible knowledge and power, beyond what a mortal could achieve even in an Altmer’s lifespan. I believe that Dagon’s book might be the source.”

Jerric turned back to his work to hide his thoughts. He should have foreseen the depth of Darnand’s interest, but it still surprised him.

“I realize, however, that such an opportunity is unlikely to arise,” Darnand continued. He produced a slip of parchment while he chewed. “The four keys are Camoran’s four volumes. The illuminated letters at the heads of what I loosely describe as chapters spell out the beginning of a message. As Tar-Meena told you, I expect that the message will provide a clue or instructions for actually joining the Mythic Dawn.”

“Ha! I knew you could do it.” Jerric took the note. “Green emperor way where,” he read. The cold potatoes on Darnand’s plate tempted him. He took a seat at the table.

“There is more. Tar-Meena indicated to you that these books are contemporary with Tiber Septim. That is simply not the case. Though these volumes are charmed against wear, they still do not seem four hundred years old. My suspicions were confirmed when I found references to events that have occurred since that time. Tar-Meena would not make such an error. I must conclude that she first studied earlier volumes, and these are later editions.” Darnand gave him a look. “I warn you, I will elaborate at great length and detail with only the slightest encouragement.”

Jerric quickly schooled his expression. He had a lot of questions for Darnand, but the exact age of an old book was not among them.

“This becomes a concern only if the illuminated letters have changed,” Darnand continued. “I can easily imagine that Camoran could not resist expanding upon his original work when a reprinting became necessary. In any case, the newer version is more likely to provide the correct clues.”

“There’s a Green Emperor Way here in the Imperial City,” said Jerric.

“Yes. I doubt that cultists have concealed a shrine there. However, I know that you will insist upon searching.” Darnand seemed to struggle with his next words. “Would you like me to assist you?”

Jerric briefly considered saying yes just to tease him. “No,” he sighed. “You’re right. About it being pointless to search without the rest of the clue, and about me trying anyway. I have a contract to do some guard work for the Fighters Guild, so I’ll look around when I pass through that part of the city. You keep doing whatever has you looking so frail.”

Jerric sighed again when Darnand didn’t rise to the bait. “How about the poem book?” Jerric asked. “Need any help translating?”

Darnand looked surprised. “You speak Dunmeris?”

“Well, I could order a drink, curse your mother, or talk to a harlot anywhere in Tamriel. Course there are a few things about Argonians that we don’t have words for, and you have to talk around the subject in Aldmeris.”

Darnand almost smiled. “Thank you, but no. I expect I will prevail, with sufficient study.”

“Ha! That’s one way to say it. I guess the drawings help with your study.”

Darnand replied with a nod and raised eyebrows as he put away another Nord-sized bite.

Jerric took a moment to think. The Mythic Dawn’s code had yielded its message. All that remained was to find the final books to complete it. There was nothing to be done about that tonight, but Jerric still had Darnand’s attention.

Jerric leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. Darnand made a go-ahead gesture with his fork.

“All right,” said Jerric, “here’s something. If summoned zombie slime dissipates when the geas lifts, why does the stink hang around?”

“That is an excellent puzzle. I have my solution. I would like to hear yours.”

Thinking about it was more entertaining than being told, Jerric decided. He leaned forward so he could concentrate better. “How about this. If a skeleton drops its weapon right before it goes back, the weapon stays. So I guess the weapon isn’t part of the summoning, it’s carried by it. So the slime must be part of it, but the stink gets carried along, like an axe.”

Darnand’s face registered pride and approval. “Your explanation stands. I need not improve upon it.”

That’s how I felt when he finally did some pushups, thought Jerric. “Ha!” he grinned. “If you were my teacher, I might have stayed in school.”

“I am surprised that you had not already answered this question. As a battlemage you are expected to pursue a broader arcane education.”

“I was a caravan guard, I had to learn to use my blades and shield first. Fetching archers wouldn’t wait while I meditated on books. Then I was busy with work. Plus it takes time to keep up with the drinking. I guess now I can learn what I want. You know, Sigrid says I’m a natural at alchemy, but Carahil says I have a gift for conjuring.”

“They are both wrong, and a little right. You are a natural mystic.”

Jerric had a good laugh. Then he noticed that Darnand was still silent. “You’re serious? All right, explain it.”

“Mysticism deals with the nature of magic itself. The fact that you are a Master of Alchemy despite your appalling technique is an indicator. Not to mention you can use ingredients that are completely unknown to you, while I spend hours learning the charts in books. It is most infuriating. Then there is your control over your summonings. It is the geas, your bound dagger is nothing special. Most annoying of all, you can read enchantments as readily as breathing. I envy that.”

“I don’t even know one mysticism spell. I think I’m best at destruction. My frost spells work without me even calling them anymore, like sneezing when your nose tickles. I sure enjoy destruction the most.”

“The schools of magic are our own invention. How we categorize our spells does not affect their nature. Your Nord blood carries the potential to use Nordic Frost and Woad. Destruction and shield magic were always a part of you. Then at birth when the stars marked your soul, they made you a mystic. Consider this: you can wring the magicka from my fire spells without consciously doing anything. That is the Atronach.” He shrugged. “It is only a theory.”

“So I’m what in this story, an arcane washerwoman? Darnand, you are a wonder. How do you think of these things? Why do you think of them?”

“You snore, kick, and shout half of the night. At the best of times you merely break wind and fondle yourself. Pondering the enigma that is a Nord mage keeps me from murdering you in your sleep.”

Darnand’s remark about his soul brought up more questions, but the Breton had already pushed aside the empty plate and turned back to his writing.

Jerric reached for the wine. “A mystic. Only you, Darnand.”

This had me rolling, Darnand has summed up Jerric perfectly here! I loved the conversation about Jerric being a mystic - shows besides the above quote, Darnand really thinks deeply about his friend. Jerric's worry about Darnand came through clearly in this chapter. The two could be brothers for that deep bond, really Awesome Write !!!

This just perfect encapsulates the attitude all three have to one another. They all think that the others would be helpless without them, and they're partly right, they do fill the gaps the other leave.

But those gaps are shrinking a bit.

I wonder what Ulfe thinks of them?

Nice to see Jerric finding some surrigate family to be with after remembering his mother a little too freshly. Little things like that really help flesh out the characters, I'm sure normally Jerric would exchange a few words but not get so involved, but this time perhaps the invite wasn't unsaught. It shows the family man side to him and the vulnerability that's left in its wake.


Why am I not surprised, that couldn't possibly end badly could it... This desire for power in Darnard and the rather more aggressive and less legal persuit of it is something Jerric has awoken I suspect. It will be interesting to see where it leads, perhaps he'll stop soon enough but I suspect he'll go to far (and possibly already has), how badly it burns him is another question.

Then we have Jerric considering magical puzzles and getting an answer. Something of Jerric rubbing off on him. They certainly complement eachother, as friends should.


I love the humour Jerric has, it's probably half true too. You do it very well, it fits the forum restrictions fine but encourages the reader to fill in the blanks...

This was just chock full of goodness!

A magnificent description you provided of the birthday table and festivities. A wonderful example of your efficient ability to so delightfully capture a whole mood and scene with a few well-chosen evocative sentences.

Big grins on the warrior versus bard, and their differing effects on maidens’ wandering eyes and sliding panties.

A bonus mention of Abiene to help make up for Lildereth’s absence.

Fascinating stuff on the varying schools of magic. And what fabulous observations Darnand makes about the sleeping habits of his friend.

After a moment Jerric realized that Darnand was unaware of his presence…
Typical Jerric, though I think despite the perfect opportunity, he made the right call.

Jerric’s addition to Darnand’s letter was good.

Hah, Darnand’s warning about elaborating in great detail was perfect!

Jerric? A natural mystic? That doesn’t fit the image of a heavy drinking, prostitute chasing Nord that is Jerric.

Ye Gods I love this story... ...

From the roomfull of birthday guests to the intimate chat with just the two of them, it was sooo brilliantly done...Beautiful stuff...

Must go on a quote-fest....



Lol!!...



Wha-hey!!..Loved that...Made I laugh... ...



Beautiful magic talkingness...Loved the thought that goes into everyone's interpretation of magic...Brilliant stuff...



Well...The images... ...

Loved it, as ever...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

The party turned out to be the fiftieth birthday of an apple-cheeked woman who didn’t look a day over seventy.
Doh!

It was true what they said: a warrior may draw the maidens’ eyes, but it’s the bard who makes their panties slide
Yep, and if he learned to play the guitar, those panties would not slide off, they would burn off!

an arcane washerwoman?
On a completely unrelated note, this makes me think of the Celtic legends of the Washer At The Ford. It is a premonition of doom, where someone sees an old woman washing their clothing at a ford. They always die soon after. Often that woman is The Morrigan.

An interesting discussion about Jerric being a natural mystic. That explains why he can do so much magic at all, when he spends so much of his time drinking, screwing, and fighting rather than actually studying or practicing, as Darnand has to do.

mALX: Thank you, mALX! No matter how close they get, Jerric is still an unsavory roommate. After all, no one farts on your head quite like a brother.

ghastley: Thank you, ghastley, you brought out what I was hoping to show about each of them caring for the others and letting themselves be cared about in return. I expect that Ulfe thinks one of them smells a lot more interesting than the rest!

Olen: Thank you Olen, you have drawn out the things here that are so important to me, and it means a lot to know that they came through. I’m always at risk of over-explaining, and nervous that I cut out the wrong parts.

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! I loved putting Jerric at that party table. He’s not a very good loner. It was fun to show some of who he used to be. There’s a little more of that in this section.

King Coin: Thank you for appreciating Darnand’s warning! That was such a Darnand moment, and those are rare. Jerric doesn’t see himself as a mystic either – he’s still shaking his head over that one.

McBadgere: Thank you, McB! If Jerric ends up at the Bards College, we’ll know what he’s planning.

SubRosa: You highlighted what I was hoping to show with the mystic discussion, that Jerric has taken to the magic that comes easily and made little or no progress in the areas that do not. He has years of practice, but very little study. Thank you, SubRosa!


Where we are: The crew has been in the Imperial City. Jerric met with Baurus and made a plan to search Cyrodiil’s book stores for the remaining two books of Mankar Camoran’s Commentaries of the Mysterium Xarxes. Darnand looked at the first two volumes and already cracked the code. Darnand and Lildereth did some enchanting at the Arcane University. Jerric got his belongings back from the Imperial Prison. Lildereth accepted the task from Martina Floria to bring her ten Welkynd stones in trade for advanced Illusion training. Darnand has been exchanging his life energy for access to an ancient library. Jerric has been crawling through sewers for the Fighters Guild to refill the coin purse. The animals have been relaxing in Acadian’s wonderful Valley of Horses. I’ll let Jerric take it from here.



Chapter 15: Chorrol, Part One


Jerric leaned against Aelwin’s fence watching the sun drop in the sky. Nerussa’s tavern and the Weye market square offered too many temptations, and so he had spent much of the day loitering with the horses in Aelwin’s stable yard. The old man had been cheerful company, but now he was inside his cottage having an afternoon rest. The quiet gave Jerric too much opportunity for thought.

Darnand and Lildereth had left before dawn on the previous day bound for some Ayleid hole that Lildereth had scouted. They were to collect Welkynd stones in the ruin while Jerric fulfilled the last day of his Fighters Guild contract. They would meet in Weye. Jerric had gathered up the animals this morning according to the plan. Now all he had to do was wait and wonder.

Foot traffic was sparse enough that Jerric could watch folk as they came into view between the low buildings. He pictured Darnand’s robed figure walking briskly with head down, then bent under the weight of an overloaded pack, and even limping with the aid of his staff. None of these variations answered his silent summons. He tried to imagine Lildereth, but he had no idea how her small form would look approaching. The elf had a habit of popping out of thin air right underfoot.

If they’re not here by the time Magnus touches the mountains, I’ll set up our camp, Jerric decided. They’ll be tired, and we can still get ahead of the traffic in the morning.

Fetch it, he thought a moment later. I’m going to go see what’s happening right now.

By the time he got his greaves buckled, Darnand and Lildereth were visible on the road. Jerric leaned against the fence again, grinning when he saw that they were whole and unbloodied.

“Three stones,” Lildereth said as they approached. He caught a glimpse of nerves before her face lit up at Ulfe’s joyful greeting.

Darnand stopped in front of Jerric, his expression tense and solemn.

Jerric sniffed for hints of mort flesh. “Anything rotting in your pack that I should know about?”

“We put them to rest,” said Lildereth. Her eyes slid to Darnand and then away. “Zombies. It was close. I misread the life signs. There were more than I expected.”

“She was magnificent under attack,” Darnand told him. “She stood her ground and kept shooting. The last one fell at her very feet.”

“Consumed by Darnand’s fire,” Lildereth added, a gleam in her eyes.

Comprehension killed Jerric’s next question. “And then you two humped each other silly.”

Darnand rubbed a hand over his face.

Lildereth shrugged one shoulder. “Sometimes it happens.”

“Not when I’m there. Dammit! What about Howling Cave? That was tense enough, and no humping after. And Fort Strand, that’s as close as it gets. I know I could have used some relief. What the hells, Darnand?”

The Breton looked aghast. Lildereth snorted.

Jerric shook his head. “I’m jesting,” he told Darnand. “Gods’ bones, you could crack an ironnut right now, I’d wager. I can’t see how you trust me with your life, but not the sanctity of your orifices.” He caught Lildereth’s look. “Yeah, I know what that means. I read it in a book.”

Lildereth moved to where Jerric had piled their gear and began shifting things between the packs. Darnand looked away from her.

Jerric watched for a moment. He tried not to let disappointment color his tone. “You’re leaving us, I take it?”

“I’m taking these stones back to Martina. There’s no sense carrying them around. I’ll catch up to you on the road, but not for a couple of days at least. Perhaps in Chorrol.”

Ulfe pressed her jaws against Jerric’s belly, grinning up at him. Jerric obliged with a vigorous throat scratch. “Sure, I’ll miss you too, Ulfe.”

“You’re hauling some of my gear for me,” Lildereth said without looking up. “There’s no need to squeeze out a tear just yet.”

“You’ll be moving fast, then?” Jerric asked. “Or you want to start light because you’ll have pelts to carry?”

Lildereth shot him a cool glance as she shouldered her pack. Jerric knew that was all the explanation he would get from her.

“There’s talk of a Gate along the Black Road,” Darnand announced, apparently to his feet.

Lildereth was suddenly in front of Jerric, squeezing one of his hands in hers. She looked up with an expression that was a little bit tender, a touch hopeful, but mostly composed of concern and regret. Then she turned toward the bridge without speaking. Ulfe sneezed on Jerric’s hand before she romped away after the elf.

“Yeah,” Jerric called after them. “You, too. And be careful with my dog!”

By the time Jerric looked over at Darnand, the Breton had finished his careful study of the grass.

“Well?” said Jerric.

It took a moment for Darnand to find his voice again. “Gods,” he finally managed.

Jerric shook his head and went to get the horses.

Tacking up was accomplished with minimal talk. Aelwin appeared with some stale-smelling sandwiches. Jerric’s thanks reflected his affection for the giver more than appreciation of the gift. In a short time they were mounted and proceeding up a narrow lane toward the Red Ring Road.

“How was the job?” Darnand asked before Jerric could start another conversation.

“It was Imga balls, just like the first two days. Nothing to eat, nothing to look at, and nothing to fight that I couldn’t just kick to death. The Imperial City Commission of Water and Sewers does not employ attractive dreck-scrapers, and don’t get me started on the smell.” Jerric prepared to launch his questions.

“Good morning, ladies,” Darnand called out, an act so bizarre it made Jerric stare at him. They made room for the approaching group of pedestrians to safely pass.

“It’s well past mid-day,” Jerric started to tell him, but Darnand and Banner had dropped back behind Flash. They maintained that position all the way past Fort Nikel until Jerric signaled a stop for the night.

They moved quickly to set up camp and settle the horses before sundown. Dry sandwiches were eaten fireside without comment. By now the silence had grown too thick between them, and Jerric was not inclined to break it. He guessed that Darnand’s no doubt frantically surrendered virginity might be causing him anxiety, but tonight Jerric was too close to his own troubles to distract himself with Darnand’s.

“It is your family that disquiets you,” Darnand said without preamble. “You have been twisting that ring around on your finger all evening.”

Jerric felt instantly relieved. Thoughts came in a rush, now that he did not fear to admit them. “I know they’re kept alive in my memory, but that’s no comfort. My niece Fjirsten, she was just as bright as a new drake and twice as promising. I’m the only one left who remembers the day she was born. Everything she was, everything she could have become is entrusted to this leaky vessel.” He thumped his forehead with a fist. “Little things are already fading. How will I know what I’ve forgotten when it’s gone? I was the least of them, Darnand. I never could get the words out of my head onto a page, and I didn’t let it bother me. Now I curse myself for this weakness.”

“Tell me their stories, and I will write them.” Darnand’s face was solemn in the firelight.

Jerric didn’t dare to hope. “To what purpose? And you don’t have time for that. You’re always working, even when you should just collapse.”

“That is an accurate statement. However, I shall make some time to ease your mind. There need not be a purpose, or an end. Say the words, and I will write them. I want to know your niece Fjirsten as if she was my own. We begin tonight.”

Jerric watched Darnand assemble his materials. He couldn’t have spoken at that moment if he tried. By the time Darnand was ready, he had wiped his face and taken a swallow of water.

“On the morning of Sun’s Height the fourth in the year 425, a child of Kyne was born in the West Weald.” Jerric could hear that his voice was low and strong, like his fa’s. He stood aside in his mind and let the words come. “Fjirsten Kolrsdaughter, born of Svanja, my sister. She was Svanja’s first, and she took her time coming. I had heard my sister swear, but never before like she did all that night. We knew her curses didn’t work when she grew big with her second child, but that’s another story. When my turn came to hold the baby, I took her outside to let her taste the wind. Even on the Kvatch plateau…”

Jerric’s voice continued into the night, and Darnand’s quill captured his memories. The images called up before Jerric’s eyes were more real than the fire in front of him. But tonight they brought no sorrow.

Jerric worrying over Darnand and Lildereth in the beginning was just what I’d expect from him. Nothing worse than waiting. Then he finds out Darnand and Lildereth were having fun without him. Poor Jerric’s maybe a smidge jealous now?

Darnand shows he’s a true friend at the fireside. Maybe Jerric will begin to rest easier.

Your opening paragraph efficiently and beautifully pulled us right into the scene and Jerric's head. I loved his perfect vision of an approaching Darnand and that the best he could come up with for Lildereth was a ‘poof – there she is’ image.

“Three stones,” Lildereth said as they approached. He caught a glimpse of nerves before her face lit up at Ulfe’s joyful greeting.’
Beautifully put and, after all, three stones beats a pair.

Dungeon humping!

‘How will I know what I’ve forgotten when it’s gone?’
Wow! Sometimes Jerric stuns me with his simple and clear perceptions. It was then Darnand’s turn to show the mettle of his friendship for the Nord as he selflessly helped Jerric bring his memories to life.

‘The images called up before Jerric’s eyes were more real than the fire in front of him. But tonight they brought no sorrow.’
Wow again! What a large step Jerric took this night by the fire. I'm so proud of him - and Darnand.

As ever, Jerric, Darnand, Lildereth and Ulfe were totally true to who they are - the wonderful characters we have grown to love. You paint them perfectly with every action they take and every word they speak (or bark). This was a such a beautiful episode and pure joy to read!

Amazing stuff...

Although...Lildreth and Darnand? ...Really?...Methinks there's another story there... ...

But it was very cool to see Jerric's attempt to appear not jealous...Having been in similar situations many years ago (the girl/jealousy stuff, not the dungeon crawling passion btw ), I know how damned difficult it would be for him... ...

Aaamywho...

Always love Ulfe, sweet puppy... ...

And the reunion and parting were as cool and very demonstrative of their affection for each other...Bless them... ...

The whole last section with Jerric getting emotional about losing the memories, and Darnand offering to write them down was just brilliant...Absolutely loved it...

Don't leave us so long without, next time eh?... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds massively heartily*...

So, stones, humping, and sanctified orifices. Sounds like an ordinary day for the Terrible Trio. Though Darnand and Lildreth is a pairing I had not seem coming. Actually, Lildreth and anyone is not a pairing I ever saw coming. I suppose we will have to wait and see if it was just excess adrenaline, or if there is actually something there.

It was Imga balls
Ewww. Then again, killing crabs and rats in the sewers is pretty disgusting work.

Plus some quality man on man time at the fireside. Without orifices.

Only three Welkynd stones from the whole dungeon? I don't remember any of them being that mean, unless I'd forgotten going there before! No wonder they needed another reward.

I can just imagine Darnand explaining to Jerric that he thought he was only going to have a quickie with Lildereth to celebrate their victory, but she told him he needed more practice.

Wow, the depth of your characters always manages to surprise me. They have so much to them and so many subtle traits which make them real.

Lildreth is an interesting one. I'm not entirely surprised by her pairing with Darnard but I don't think it's anything. I agree with SubRosa that she doesn't seem like the type to be pairing, but in many ways she isn't. Similar to the time with Jerric, the mood takes her and she does, but it doesn't mean anything. Makes me wonder why though, is there some reason or is that just how she is? There's a lot to her we haven't seen. Also how clingy will Darnard become, and how will it change him.

Yup there's certainly a lot going on with your characters, and I'm sure Chorrol won't simplify things.

I absolutely loved this whole paragraph. It is so inconsistant for Jerric to wait while Darnand dungeon dives, so instantly I was worried for Darnand without him. But Jerric's visions and musings had me rolling even with the worry.



Darnand finally explored strange new worlds, sought out new life...boldly went where no Jerric has gone before! WOOOOOOT !!!

Loved the ending, where Jerric is logging his memories of Fjirsten Kolrsdaughter. Was she just eight when she died? Very touching ending to an Awesome Chapter!! Great Write!

Folks, there was another delay. I thank you for your patience.

King Coin: Thank you, KC! The fireside scene showed my favorite side of Darnand. Thank you for drawing attention to it, and for appreciating him!

Acadian: I thought of you with a smile when I wrote about Lildereth’s under the radar approaches. Three stones! That one skipped right by me. Thank you for noting Jerric’s giant step with Darnand’s quiet assistance. I appreciate your encouraging words so much.

McBadgere: I’m glad that Jerric’s awkward attempt to dispel the awkwardness rang true. That part was painful to write! The fireside scene is the one I was squeaking delightedly about when Julianos found Darnand’s book in KotNNK. I’m still grinning like a fool over that!! Thank you, McB!

SubRosa: Jerric’s full “Imga balls” remark did not make the edit, so I’m glad it was still crude enough to express his message. Lildereth and Darnand is a pairing that they didn’t see coming! They’re not ready to pick out china just yet. Thank you, SubRosa!

ghastley: “Well, we would have been back hours ago, but she’s a perfectionist.” Poor Darnand missed out on Juliana’s tender care, but that’s probably for the best since Gweden holds bad memories for him. That little Ayleid hole in the ground with only three stones was a Grits invention. Thank you, ghastley!

Olen: Your comments are so very encouraging! The things that you are wondering about Lildereth are the same questions that the fellows have about her. Whew! One of the many things I admire about your writing is your restraint in the information that you offer about characters. Trying not to info-dump makes me wonder if I’m getting Lildereth’s character across, especially when she does things that are surprising. Thank you so much!

mALX: Yes, Fjirsten was eight when she died at Kvatch, the same age as Carmia’s daughter Lavina (the little girl from Gnoll’s Meeting Camp). Good grief you’re right, Darnand managed to hook up with one of the few people who could not compare him to Jerric! Oh, except for that time they all went swimming in Aravi’s Oblivion video thread. About that, Darnand would like to point out that the water was very cold and he does not have frost resistance. Thank you, mALX!


Where we are: On the Black Road to Chorrol. Lildereth took off with Ulfe, saying she would find them on the road. Jerric and Darnand managed to avoid talking about Darnand and Lildereth. Darnand took on the project of writing down Jerric’s memories.



Chapter 15: Chorrol, Part Two


Jerric and Darnand turned onto Troll Rock Lane at the same easy pace they had kept up since lunch. The weather had been fine and traffic light for days along the Black Road. Now they would reach the Odiils’ farm with daylight to spare. Jerric planned for them to spend the night with the Odiils, then head on to Weynon Priory in the morning. They should reach Chorrol tomorrow night. There was no need to push the horses.

“It’ll be a cold wash outdoors again, I’m afraid,” Jerric said, “but we can count on a hot meal. These Imperials will feed us like kings. Plenty of deer come to eat their crops. They have venison on the table most nights, I’d wager. No ale or wine, though. Odiil does his drinking in town. Never did ask why.”

“I will not miss setting up camp tonight,” said Darnand. “Or standing watch. I suppose we have that Oblivion Gate to thank for the empty road. However, I maintain that what ruffians remain will be all the more desperate as a result of their recent shortage.”

“Yeah. And even with the Gate closed, there could still be daedra about. The time you let down your guard is when enemies attack. We’ll sleep hard behind solid walls tonight, though we’ll be unnecessarily sober. These boys are good company, but what I wouldn’t give for a hot bath, a pitcher of mead, and a woman who can breathe under water.” Jerric slapped his thigh, earning an ear flick from Kip. “Hey! The Jewel of the Rumare! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before!”

Darnand did not reply on that subject. “Though I am relieved that the Oblivion Gate closed on its own before we arrived, I am unsettled by the implications. Had we reached it only hours earlier, you would certainly have entered and been trapped in the Deadlands. To what purpose was it opened?”

“I don’t know, Darnand.”

His friend glanced over with the hint of a smile. “Of course you do not. I apologize for voicing the question yet again. I cannot purge this mystery from my mind.”

Darnand was right; Jerric had missed being stranded in the Deadlands by some unknown grace or sheer luck. Letting his thoughts drift backward would not help him. Still, his friend kept picking at the puzzle like a nearly healed knuckle scab. Jerric scratched his head to help himself think.

“Well, maybe they were moving from one place to another on this side. I went through a Gate in a high meadow west of here, when I was wandering, and there was a second Gate open in the Deadlands. I could see it as soon as I got there. No way could it have led back to County Chorrol, I would have seen it in the meadow. Maybe it didn’t even go to Cyrodiil. So if they wanted to move from, say, here to Black Marsh, a short trip through the Deadlands would be the quickest way.”

Darnand was staring at him.

Jerric felt a little embarrassed. “That’s probably not what they did. Forget I said it. Never mind.”

“On the contrary, your idea is plausible. Creating a sigil stone requires many souls and the effort of Mehrunes Dagon himself. However if my sources are correct, the Gates can be opened with a fairly simple ritual once the sigil stone is acquired.” He held up his palm in a warding gesture. “You need not admonish me. I have no desire to test that theory.”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. “And maybe they closed the Gate when their work was done. Whatever it was. To save the stone.”

Troll Rock Lane had been in very light use the last time Jerric had travelled it, but now it seemed deserted. The blanket of decaying leaves on the road muffled the horses’ footsteps. When the Odiils’ cottage came into view, Jerric signaled a halt.

“What is it?” Darnand sounded more curious than alarmed.

“I don’t know. Let’s just watch for a moment.” He pulled off a gauntlet and slipped on his life detection ring. A swirl of magicka betrayed Darnand’s hasty spell. A quiet cast required more effort, and they were in full view already. Jerric began to voice his concerns.

“No smoke from the chimney. Storm litter in the front garden. Someone should have picked up those branches.” Another swirl told Jerric that Darnand was extending the range of his spell. “I can see corn stalks in the upper field. They should have winter crops in by now. Onions. Cabbages. Maybe some leeks. Not corn.” Now he was just stalling. “The door is boarded up. They’re not here, Darnand.”

His friend gave him a look. “There are no life signs.”

Jerric nodded. “Let’s go see.”

The barn door was boarded over as well. Summer crops had rotted in the fields. After he made his investigations, Jerric joined Darnand and the horses where they waited by the well.

“I can’t tell what happened,” said Jerric. His gut felt sick with worry. “Goblins, daedra, or maybe they just moved after a break-in. You know, some fetchers out marauding.”

“If they were attacked by daedra, I would expect to see signs of a fire.”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. “You’re right. Plus they’ve been gone since not long after I was here. Never even got their harvest in. That Gate opened just a week ago.” He reached one arm under Flash’s neck and the other under Kip’s for comfort. “When I was here before, I helped them kill some goblins. If the goblins’ tribe came around looking… Well, they offered me their best sword, and I took it. Chillrend. Couldn’t even hang onto it, I told you how I lost it in the lava. Dammit!” He looked up at the sky.

“Shall I say it? I do not believe that the words will help.”

“No, but thanks. Look, we should fill up our waterskins if the well hasn’t been fouled. Camp out at the Black Road. We won’t make the priory by dark, and I’d rather not sleep here. The elf might be looking for us.”

“I have replenished our water supply. We still have travel rations. I suggest we break camp early in the morning and plan to spend additional time at the priory. Perhaps the monks will have news of the Odiils. We should take the opportunity to refresh ourselves there, so that in Chorrol we might present a less travel-worn appearance.”

Jerric smiled to himself. “Did you just call me scruffy?”

“Unkempt,” said Darnand. “Bedraggled.”

Jerric swung up into his saddle. “I’ll take the first watch.”

They made camp near the road. After they saw to the horses, Jerric set up the tent while Darnand gathered firewood. The sky looked like it would stay clear, but the Breton seemed to rest easier under shelter. It made no difference to Jerric. He slept with his head by the door so he could see the stars.

Jerric shook his head no when Darnand started to assemble his writing materials. Tonight it would be unwise to think about his family. He felt as if he was on unsteady footing, trying to avoid too many things while reaching for something he couldn’t see. This close to Chorrol even thoughts of Abiene brought tension. Darnand retrieved a book and withdrew to the tent. It was his habit to read in the dark with his nighteye spell. Only one book, thought Jerric. He must really be tired.

Jerric relieved himself into the bushes and prepared to stand his watch. The low fire should keep animals away, but it surrounded the camp with a wall of darkness. He moved into the shelter of a tree and slipped on his life detection ring.

The vibrant glows of the horses leaped into his mind, then the low shape of Darnand, already sleeping. Practice helped him dim their lights so that they wouldn’t blind him. In a few moments he could see small life forms through the misty shapes of the horses. He kept himself alert by identifying them as they moved about their foreign business. As the hours passed, he counted foxes, bats, deer, night birds, and even treerats asleep in their nests above him.

One life sign caught his immediate and full attention as it moved into the range of his life detection ring. A Bosmer or small human, making no sound over the night’s noises. It gave the signal for a peaceful approach, and Jerric returned it. He slipped off his ring and moved to meet Lildereth as she entered the camp. Her packs and bow went softly to the ground. She turned to face him.

“Where’s Ulfe?” Jerric asked.

“Rolling in a deer carcass. I’m sure we’ll smell her before we see her.” Lildereth stepped into the light.

She looked as clean and composed as she ever did, apart from the tears gathering on her lashes. Jerric’s stomach dropped. Weeping females were high on his list of things to avoid. He knew that a hard word would spark Lildereth’s temper, but if she wanted a fight she would already have provoked one. His compassion was likely to let loose the flood. She could have had her cry somewhere alone in the dark. Yet here she was.

Jerric took a deep breath.

“So a Nord and an Altmer are pissing out the back of a mead tent.”

Lildereth blinked several times, rapidly. Jerric pretended not to notice.

“The Altmer, perhaps curious about Nords, happens to see a tattoo on his…” Jerric grabbed his crotch.

“Member,” Lildereth suggested.

“Yeah. It’s a bunch of letters that spell out Welinome. Now that’s a word that the Altmer knows very well. In fact, he has the same tattoo. Of course at that point it looks like there could be more to the Nord’s. The Altmer just has to know. ‘Good son of Skyrim,’ he says to the Nord, ‘My dear wife, light of my soul, is named Welinome. Centuries ago I showed her my devotion with this tattoo. Now I cannot help but notice her name upon your…’”

Lildereth rolled her eyes.

“‘Member,’” Jerric continued. “‘My friend, is it possible that your wife is named Welinome, too?’

“‘No, Goldenrod,’ says the Nord. ‘Mine says Welcome to Solstheim, now go the fetch home.’”

Lildereth snorted. “When I heard this story, the fellow was a Redguard.”

“A Redguard married to a woman named Welinome? That seems unlikely.”

Ulfe crashed in amongst them, wild and reeking from her romp with the dead deer. It took a spell from the elf and a knee from Jerric to keep her out of the fire. Darnand poked a tousled head out of the tent and blinked owlishly while they were struggling. “The girls are back,” said Jerric. “Hide.”

Once they got the hound settled, Jerric began to wonder if Lildereth would crawl in with Darnand. Then he wondered if they would be noisy, or worse, if they would try to be quiet. She didn’t make a move toward the tent. Jerric felt relieved until he realized that he was staring.

“I’ll finish your watch,” Lildereth told him. “I won’t sleep for hours anyway. I chewed too many fennel seeds trying to stay awake on the way here.”

Jerric wasted no time getting out of his clothes and into his bedroll. He looked up at her before he pulled the furs over his head. “Are you ever going to tell me?”

“Some day.” She had seated herself with her back to the fire. “Not tonight.”

“Whatever it is, maybe you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Lildereth had her face turned to the side, but he could still see her crooked smile. “I’m not,” she said.




.

though we’ll be unnecessarily sober
Talk about sacrifices!

The vanishing Oblivion Gate is an intriguing mystery. I wonder if it means that someone from the Mythic Dawn is moving from Chorrol to someplace else?

Now a second mystery concerning the Odill farm? Hmm, what on Nirn is going on in County Chorrol?

Weeping females were high on his list of things to avoid.
A trait I believe all men share, for good reason.

Yet a third mystery, with the near weepy Lildreth. You certainly know how to keep us guessing! Through it all though, you have shown us what a tightly-knit trio Jerric, Darnit, and Lildreth have become.

What? The gate closed on its own? I’ve never heard of such a thing. And Jerric getting stranded there… Ugh. I don’t want to imagine what that would be like. A rare moment of brilliance from Jerric I see.

Odiils are gone? So much for a good bed then.

Lildereth!!

As SubRosa said, more mystery. I wonder what it is? I’m happy that they are staying together though. They’ve all really grown close.

The Oblivion Gate closing before they arrived means one of two things: Either someone else closed it and left the area or it somehow closed on its own. Although Jerric’s theory is intriguing, I would tend to think the former unless I had actually seen it close with no sigil stone-bearing adventurer emerging. I’m quite sure I’m mistaken but, nevertheless, I have visions of Lildereth closing that gate; I have no doubt she is capable of doing so then melting right back into the forest. I wonder if her pack is buzzing?

‘The blanket of decaying leaves on the road muffled the horses’ footsteps.’
This was just a perfect touch of detail to remind us of the scene, season and even sounds of their surroundings.

And another mystery as it seems the Odils have abandoned their farm.

So the homely nurse says to the attractive one, “Did you know the patient in bed number four has the word ‘Swan’ tattooed on his. . . member?”
“Nah,” replies the attractive nurse. “It says Saskatchewan.”
Seriously, sometimes Jerric is brilliant. His idea to opt for a joke instead of attempting to either question or comfort directly was wise indeed. Lildereth is a perfect (and deliciously frustrating) blend of wonder and mystery. These four (okay, I’m including Ulfe) are wonderfully compelling and endearing characters. For a change, Ulfe smells worse than Jerric!

I’m delighted to read wherever you take me, but I’m sort of hoping for an appearance in Chorrol by Abiene?

Nit? ‘It made no different to Jerric.’
Although I suppose you could have intended some literary license, did you perhaps mean ‘difference’?

I always love to hear Jerric and Darnand muse on the way things work, their discussion on the Oblivion gates was a perfect example.

Poor Lildereth! I wonder what had her so upset? But she came to her friends in her grief, even though she had to drug herself on Fennel seeds to get there, lol.

Jerric's trauma over whether she and Darnand would sleep together had me laughing - how many times did he sleep with women in Darnand's hearing? ROFL !!

Very touching ending to the chapter (minus Ulfe rolling in dead deer, ROFL), but leaves me wondering why Lildereth was crying

Awesome Write !!

As for the mystery of the closed Oblivion Gate, I have to agree with Acadian here.

Ingame, the only Gates that closed were the ones I closed myself as the PC; none 'mysteriously' closed without any input from me. Ergo these Gates must be deliberately closed by someone on the 'outside,' i.e. Nirn.

In fiction, of course, we can write anything we want, including spontaneously closing Gates. But as that would be inconsistent with the logic of Mehrunes Dagon and his cohorts, such would clash with the TES setting of the story.

In science, we have a saying - the simplest hypothesis in explaining the most confounding events is often the true one. Therefore I side with Acadian - some other character, seen or as yet unseen, closed the Gate here. Surely Jerric can't be thinking the's the only one who can close Gates! Could he be that egoistical?

I believe they call that Occamnor's Razor in Tamriel...

And the Steelyard on Arbre. (okay, I'm currently reading this.

EDIT: double post!

Don't wish to get into this old chestnut here, but...



Which is, in itself, a fiction... ...

Depends which laws (or lores) the Jerricverse hold dear... ...

Aaamywho...Loved it...

Dunno if I was misinterpreting things...But did the pair (Jezza and Darnand now) seem...Slightly distant?...As if the thing with Lildreth had driven a wedge between them?...Could be just my reading of it though... ...

Absolutely loved it...

Shockingly enough, I'm totally okay with whatever you do with gates, lorefully or otherwise...I loved the idea of opening them simply to get from one place to another...Makes sense to me...But then again, it would wouldn't it?... ...

Poor old Chillrend... ...Hadn't gotten to that bit yet...*Robert is sad*...

Loved the reappearance of Lildreth and Ulfe...Love that dog...

Love this story!!...So much...One of these days I'm so gonna be able to read the rest of it... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Wow there was a lot in that piece.

So someone else is closing gates, whether thats the Mythic Dawn to relocate them or another character? Who knows, though I do wonder whether Lildreth might have been involved, and whether it might be connected to her upset.

And the Odiil's are gone. If the door is boarded up someone must have done it though, perhaps we'll meet them in Chorrol. More mysteries.

Then Lildreth. Again the character interactions are spot on, we haven't really seen how Darnard will react, and I suspect whether things are awkward or not will depend mainly on him. I do wonder what has her upset though. Most intreguing...

Great part, and plenty hooks to keep me interested (as if that was needed), more? Please?

SubRosa: I’m glad that Mythic Dawn activity seems like a plausible explanation for the Gate mystery. The game gives us a few maniacs jumping on the PC’s sword, but I think there must be a lot more going on that the player just doesn’t see. Three is a fun number to work with, as any two left alone often can’t resist talking about the third. Thank you, SubRosa!

King Coin: The horror of getting stranded was what I wanted to emphasize, I’m glad you pointed it out. Now he has risks to weigh before he jumps through another Gate, rather than giving in to blind impulse. Thank you, KC!

Acadian: Indeed, someone closed the Gate and just wasn’t seen. I’m delighted that you thought of Lildereth, as she is both capable and under enough stress to take that kind of risk. Her quest will come to light eventually, I promise. We will also soon rejoin Abiene’s company. She has been pacing and fretting lately, as my drawn-out posting schedule has made me skip her interludes. Thank you for appreciating how Jerric really got it right with Lildereth this time. Thank you also for your eagle eye. I corrected that nit.

mALX: I’m glad you enjoyed Jerric’s discomfort as he anticipated his friends getting it on without him. As you said, he is usually the offender in these situations, so he deserves every second of cringing! You are exactly right about Lildereth, she pushed herself until she found them. Thank you, mALX!

haute ecole rider: Yep, some mortal’s hands closed that Gate. In the game, Random Oblivion Worlds 5 and 6 both have two Gates. When the PC enters one and takes the stone, the game only closes the Gate that the PC entered most recently, leaving the other Gate open to a different world if you re-enter it from the Cyrodiil side. That sounds like a mistake to me. So in Jerric’s World, taking the sigil stone closes both Gates. One Gate would close leaving a sweaty adventurer clutching a sigil stone in its ruins (or a Mythic Dawn agent clutching a mysteriously humming satchel), and the other would simply close. The point was what you said: unlike the game, Jerric is not the single player in the story. Thank you, haute!

McBadgere: You spotted the Lildereth wedge between the fellows, slight but definitely there. You know that Jerric won’t be able to leave it there much longer! Thank you for your support, McB! Your TES Knights-verse is such a huge inspiration, it’s made me think of things in very different ways than when I started this story. So many possibilities!

Olen: Exactly, someone closed the Gate and someone also boarded up the Odiils’ doors, so the answers are out there. The Jerric and Lildereth part gave me fits this time. Eventually I realized that I had present-day Jerric and future Lildereth in the same scene. The whole story is happening in my head all at the same time. I need some help from Akatosh! The reaction from Darnand that you have been anticipating is coming up next. Thank you, Olen!


Where we are: Camped out by the Black Road south of Weynon Priory. Jerric and Darnand discovered that the Odiil family was missing, probably after some violence. Lildereth and Ulfe rejoined the men. This is a short part, but at least it didn’t take me three weeks to post it this time.




Chapter 15: Chorrol, Part Three


Jerric woke gagging on a stench that was not his own.

“Argh!” he choked. “Ulfe!” He elbow-crawled out from under her and staggered to his feet. “Breton!”

Darnand looked up from where he was crouched over the packs. “Good morning.”

“Yeah.” Jerric blinked around at the misty dawn.

“I have balanced these for your approval. The rest of the kahve is for you. We are finished with the fire.”

Jerric picked up the kahve pot before he drowned the last embers. Darnand got busy shifting Jerric’s gear out of the tent, stepping over the sprawling Ulfe.

“Where’s the elf?” asked Jerric. Their tankards and wooden bowls were nowhere in sight, but a short stack of travel biscuits perched on a stump. He drank kahve directly from the pot as he picked up his breakfast.

“I estimate that she left nearly an hour ago. We are instructed to look after the dog. Lildereth intends to join us in Chorrol.” Darnand straightened and pushed the hair out of his eyes.

Ulfe had rolled over onto her back sticking halfway out of the tent. At Darnand’s words, she contorted her head into an upside-down version of her pricked-ears expression.

“Ulfe,” Jerric called, “come on. Papa’s working.”

The hound lurched to her feet and stretched from tongue to tail. Jerric dunked a rock-hard biscuit into the kahve pot. He watched Darnand pack up the tent while he tried to swallow it. They would need to set the tent back up outside the guild hall in Chorrol so it could dry in the sun. His bedroll could also use airing.

“You have a bard’s haircut,” Jerric observed.

Darnand tossed his head so that he could shoot Jerric a look with his unobstructed eye.

Jerric took that as encouragement. “You should have cut it short or let it grow long enough to tie back. Now it just gets in the way when you’re casting.” He dunked another biscuit. “I guess Imperial City barbers don’t think about these things.”

“I did not think of it,” said Darnand. “I was concerned with making a good appearance in Chorrol.” His fingers went to the back of his neck.

“The trouble with short hair is that you have to keep cutting it,” said Jerric.

Ulfe trotted over, bright-eyed and grinning. With his hands full, Jerric did a hopping dance on the cold leaves to keep her nose away from him.

“I struggle to imagine you with long hair,” Darnand said.

“Oh yeah, I was vain about it. Until I cut it for a prank. Another guard on my route was worried about going bald. His hair was about this same yellow. Anyway I cut mine off and saved it. A couple of weeks later I started dropping some on his bedroll every night after he fell asleep. Just a few strands at first, then a little more each night until he noticed. One of the drivers caught on and opened a book on when he’d snap. When he did, it was ugly. I felt bad enough to let him give me half a beating before I knocked him out.” Jerric shook his head. “Those were happy days.”

Ulfe had ceased her attempts to nose Jerric and now sat gazing up at him. Her eyes flicked between his face and his breakfast. Jerric held out the last biscuit. She took it gingerly in her front teeth, then dropped it as if he had given her a hot coal. Her face took on an expression of deep reproach.

“Short rations, girl,” Jerric told her. “Anyway, you still have deer breath. I’m sure you’re not half as hungry as I am.”

“Our early start will soon elude us,” said Darnand. He nodded toward Jerric’s pack.

“I guess Lildereth didn’t sleep much.” Jerric walked over and shook out his leggings. “Did you two—”

“Couple in the dirt while you slept?” Darnand snapped. “No, we did not.”

“—talk about what was upsetting her?” Jerric finished, eyebrows climbing.

Darnand pressed his fingers against his eyelids. “Forgive me. I am out of sorts.”

“Yeah.” Jerric stepped onto a flat stone while he dressed to keep wet leaves out of his clothing. Darnand would talk when he was ready. He kept his silence until Jerric was buckling his greaves.

“As you know, Chorrol was my home,” Darnand began.

Jerric shrugged into his leather cuirass. He gave an encouraging nod.

Darnand appeared to gather himself. “After my parents were killed, I went through a time when I was… uncivil. Teekeeus took me in when I would have been on the street. He gave me work at the guild hall and a pallet in the basement. All strictly by the book, of course. Every night I locked myself in the summoning chamber and practiced until I was empty. The day I turned eighteen, I joined the guild and moved up to the common quarters. That was the first day of this part of my life.” He met Jerric’s eyes.

“And you think the whole city is still judging you,” Jerric guessed. “You must have really been uncivil.”

“I was wronged and grieving. It may come as a surprise to you, but I have never had a wealth of friends, though I am still well-connected through my family’s name. I suppose I wish to reflect well upon Teekeeus in my father’s absence.”

Jerric watched him for a moment. “You didn’t cut your hair to impress an Argonian.”

“No. And my recent folly compounds an existing one.” Darnand looked miserable.

Jerric eventually guessed his meaning. “There’s a woman! The someone special you were guarding your loins for.” He controlled his urge to jump on the Breton and shake the details out of him.

“Indeed,” said Darnand, sighing with relief as if he had just made some confession. “And I thank you.” He headed toward the horses, Ulfe trotting by his side.

Jerric’s curiosity threatened to overwhelm his last shred of respect for Darnand’s privacy. I’ll get it out of him eventually, Jerric thought.

“For what?” he called after Darnand. “Let’s get going. Gods, you’re a talker. We’ve nearly spent the morning.”