@SubRosa: Yes, I knew you would recognize Camillus's feeling of relief! And as his creative description of a Nord divine's - uhm - privates as well. In the aftermath, I suspect Martin is taking his cue from Julian. Smart man, learning from those with more experience in these matter than he has.

@Acadian: Thank you, dear friend, for your endorsement to linger on the field and take in the aftermath. Like I said, the way leaders handle this part of any battle speaks volumes of their quality of character. Not only do we see Julian's quality, but Martin's as well. And the loss begins to sink in when we know the faces of those who have gone. Of course Blanco will keep that horrible stone safe until it is needed!

@Grits: Thank you for catching the significance of Martin trying to return Blanco, and Julian reminding him of his new status as Emperor. Ultimately they both displayed wisdom in letting this Witchhorse decide what he will do now.

@McBadgere: As always, your fulsome praise makes me feel like Queen Elizabeth I. It certainly brought cheer on a dreary day! I was trying to point out that Jauffre and Camillus are no longer young men, though they refuse to admit it. This might be the time they face their age. But they are stubborn!

@mALX: I rather suspect Blanco was only angling for a good scratch on that sweet spot near his withers. But Julian chooses to interpret it differently, and as this is her story, I won't argue with this pilus. Glad you are still reading this!

The story so far: With the appearance of Jauffre and Baurus, we begin to realize the enormity of the cost of the battle. Camillus finds out the real reason Martin Septim needed the Great Sigil stone. Now we catch up with a few of the friends Julian has made on her Grand Tour of Cyrodiil.

*********************
Chapter 31.4 Taking Stock

I found Apsice and six of his contingent gathering their dead and wounded. He led me to where they had laid out Cordelia’s body. “She fought bravely, Julian,” he spoke quietly so that only I heard him. “For all that she lacked training, she more than made up for it in courage. And she wouldn’t stay behind when you made that run for the Gate. She insisted that we keep the daedra from your back.” He sighed and looked toward the other guards tending to their wounded. “Then your white horse ran between us and your escort, and we found ourselves fighting the dremora that were chasing him.”

I shook Apsice’s shoulder. “I’m glad Cordelia stepped up. I’m certain she made a difference. It’s a major loss that she didn’t survive. But you’re the decanus now. See to your guards, and get them back home.”

I couldn’t help counting the bodies as we returned to the other survivors. Dismay warred with relief at the numbers of dead versus the wounded. They were feeling the cold, too exhausted and hurt to shiver. “Apsice, use your flare spell on a flame atronach body. They burn hot.”

“Good thinking,” he murmured, then turned to two of the guards standing nearby. As they set off to locate a nearby corpse, I looked again at the wounded.

“Is this all of you?” I asked. Apsice shook his head.

“There’s still about four of us still missing,” he said. “So far I have sixteen of us still living, the rest are dead.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for the others, then,” I struggled to hide the sinking of my heart. So many lost. Apsice isn’t saying, but I’m certain a good portion of their loss is due to lack of leadership. If only we had had more time. If only -!

We watched as the two guards set fire to the dead atronach. Then Apsice turned to me. “Julian, don’t feel bad about our losses. Yes, it’s hard. But we have no regrets. Those of us left alive are proud to have fought for the Emperor.”

I regarded the others, and saw similar sentiments in their weary and pained faces. “You did Leyawiin proud tonight, all of you,” I pitched my voice to reach every one of them. “You deserve the gratitude of your Count and more besides. As Knight of Leyawiin, I will vouch for your courage and sacrifice to the Count and see to it that you get your just rewards.”

“Now you’re sounding like th’ Count,” one of the guards grumbled in mock dismay. Half-hearted chuckles danced around the small group.

“We all know what the Count is like,” I answered. “And I know what you are really like.”

“Aye, you’ll look out for us like you did yesterday,” one of the others responded. “Though we didn’t know it at the time. But we’re glad you put us to work! Our blades were sharp tonight, weren’t they, lads?” As the murmur of assent moved through the exhausted and the wounded, I turned to Apsice.

“It’s a promise, Apsice,” I said. “When things are settled, I’ll come down to Leyawiin and check up on all of you.” And do something about Draconis’s leadership.

Near the ruins of the first Gate, I came across a cluster of Bravilian wounded. Lerus moved among them, speaking in low tones to each guard. It seemed to me that after exchanging words with her, each Bravilian sat up a little straighter, seemed to be in a little less pain. Like mine, their breaths steamed in the cold air, mingling with the drifting snow.

Lerus straightened up slowly at my approach and met me at the edge of the group. “Hail, daedra-slayer!” Her greeting felt forced.

I glanced over her wounded before meeting her gaze. “Do you need anything, Captain?”

Lerus shook her head. “I’ve a few still whole, they went up to the town to fetch bandages and potions from our stock.” She tipped her head toward the row of corpses a few paces away. “Petrine will retrieve all of our dead, and Nonius is taking wounded up to the Chapel for healing. Cirroc has already examined our survivors and stabilized the worst of them.”

“How many -?” I could not finish the question. Lerus’s icy gaze turned colder than the Jerall night.

“After you went into that Gate, Julian,” her tone remained steady, “things became rather chaotic out here.” She waved her arm to encompass the entire Plain. “We were scattered across the field. I’m still gathering my guards together. So far I have three unharmed, six wounded and four dead.”

Out of twenty-four. “You’re still missing eleven?”

Lerus nodded grimly. “I may not find them all. Those blue-skinned fetchers have some nasty spells. There weren’t much left after some of them hit.”

“And nasty weapons,” I agreed, thinking back to the contingent that had defended the Great Gate from my approach. My gaze searched among the Bravilian surcoats for a familiar face. “Frederick?”

“He’s dead,” Lerus led me over to the still forms. “Took down several dremora before a daedroth got him.”

“I don’t doubt he fought well,” I knelt beside the cold body of my Bravilian friend. The irregular angles of his limbs and the caved-in appearance of his chest betrayed the devastating force of the monster’s tail. “He was a good man.”

“The best,” Lerus’s voice shook very slightly. I sensed the iron self-control she kept over her emotions. The worst part of being an officer - the consequences of one’s decisions can be very costly. Wish Draconis understood that lesson!

“One thing I’ll say for Count Terentius,” I rose to my feet and cast my gaze over the wounded. “He sent only the best, and the best was just what was needed here.” The guards shifted, and I knew they had heard my words, which was my intent. So did Lerus.

“Aye, that he did,” her conviction further braced her battle-weary contingent. “Thank Mara for that.” She turned and met my gaze. “And thank Mara for you, Julian. Only you could have gone in and closed that monster of a Gate.” Her eyes sharpened on me. “Are you all right, Julian?”

I considered my answer carefully. I didn’t want to make light of the price paid here on the Plain, nor did I want to lie to this straight-eyed Imperial officer. “About the same as you, Captain Lerus,” I said finally. Her gaze flickered, then she nodded.

Before I left the Bravilians, I told them about using atronach flesh to stay warm. Two of the stronger guards began searching for faintly glowing daedra in the immediate area. Fortunately they did not have to search far.

Scattered bonfires lit the field when I cast my gaze across the Plain. Figures of men, women and horse-drawn carts moved among them. The entire town of Bruma must be here! Most of the silhouettes were unarmored - civilians. I hope we can get this field cleared of our own before too much longer. It’s damned cold out here. With the thinning of the snowfall, visibility had improved considerably. A few stars glimmered through black rifts in the clouds above.

The Chapel bell struck eight times. Briefly I wondered at how much had occurred in the span of a few hours. Sundown was a little after four bells. We’ve not been out here that long. But it feels like forever.

“Hail, Hero of Bruma!” A voice brought my head around. I peered at the tall figure that approached me. Ongar the World-Weary stopped before me. “All of Bruma’s talkin’ about you,” he braced my shoulder with a strong grip. “We saw you close that Great Gate, just like the stories tell of Kvatch.” His gaze moved around the Plain. “Though I’d say the price paid here was almost as high.”

Silently I nodded. I had no more words left to say, and fatigue weighed my mind as well as my body down. Ongar met my gaze and his fingers squeezed my shoulder.

“You should go up to the Chapel and rest, get warm,” he said softly. “We’ll take care of the wounded and the dead.”

“You’re helping clear the field?” My mind struggled to understand his words.

“Aye!” Ongar nodded firmly. “All of you paid a dreadful price for us. ‘Tis the least we can do, now that the danger is past, to see all of you safe and warm within our walls.”

“That’s a tempting offer, sir,” I shook my head. “But I am responsible for these folk being here. I’ll stay out here until the last of them is away from this place.”

Nit: The irregular angles of his limbs and the caved-in appearance of his chest belied the devastating force of the monster’s tail. That word's the opposite of what I think you intended. Bespoke?

Interesting choice of Ongar as the spokesman for the Bruma townsfolk. I'd be a bit worried about him looting the dead.

Some nice character-confirming with the leaders of the allies. And a mention in dispatches for Cordelia actually making a good tactical decision for once.

I hope the Blades get back to Cloud Ruler Temple promptly. I was concerned that they'd apparently left the hard-won items for the ritual inadequately guarded while the battle for the fourth was under way. You scaled up the battle to more real numbers, but your descriptions of CRT didn't make it appear any bigger than it is in the game, so it seemed like everyone had come to the fight!

So the Leyawiin contingent is hurting too I see. Including the inexperienced Cordelia. Well, at least she went out like a soldier. Bravil too. There is another name we remember among the dead.

Ongar was a welcome sight, and the townsfolk of Bruma. I have to admit I was not expecting to see them in the aftermath. Glad to be surprised for once!

“It’s a promise, Apsice,” I said. “When things are settled, I’ll come down to Leyawiin and check up on all of you.”

I like to see Julian thinking about what happens once the Dragonfires are lit. I can’t begin to guess how things will work out for her, but I enjoyed seeing a glimpse of her thinking.

I was pleasantly surprised to see Ongar at work on the field, or at least talking about work. It was also a reminder that Bruma’s citizens don’t know about such things as missing Amulets and Great Sigil Stones.

I wonder, will we get a screenshot of Julian’s statue?

So Leyawiin and Bravil check in.

A shame about Cordelia, but comforting that she went out on a courageous note.

’If only we had had more time.’
Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve. Very natural for Julian to second guess herself in the aftermath.

I’m enjoying your portrayal of Captains Vera Lerus and Caelia Draconis. I think it is so neat how the two ladies fill almost opposite roles in BF as they do in OHDH. Don't get me wrong - your portrayal is totally consistent with your story and wonderfully done. That just shows the wonderful flexibility this great game provides for those of us who tell its stories.

And Ongar well-represents the townsfolk of Bruma helping to clear that bloody plain.

"Ah, I see you have another Black Bow." ...

Fantastic chapter!!...

Loved it!!...The way she went to each contingent to check on them was brilliant...She should wind up Commander of All Cyrodiilic Forces™ in the end...Yes... ...Nah, that was a wonderful piece of writing...She's a wonderfully realised character...Fantastic stuff...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...



Ps...With deepest regret , I second Ghastley's nit...( )...If how Lerus looked belied the power of the animal, either it got lucky and shouldn't have made that much of a mess of the poor man, or Lerus should have been smashed to pieces and wasn't...

"Spoke to the power" maybe? ...

Dunno...Just saying...

Nono...Please don't get up...I was just...aaargh!!...

If I am to return from my extended commentary absence, I cannot think of a better story with which to do so. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending), the Quot-a-Matic (TM, pat. Pending) spunged a widget. That will keep me from doing a straight copy-pasta of everything to date.

First- returning to this story has been much like meeting a good friend after a long separation. Julian, yes. And of course Blanco and Sai. All are good friends. But there is also the tone, the style, the cadence of the telling that cause me to settle deeper into my chair and sigh with contentment.

The descriptive passages are brilliant and vivid as ever, from the “small” (the meeting with Countess Carvain) to the “huge” (the battlefield before Bruma). And the recounting of the battle itself- complete with the essential elements of Cordelia’s inexperience and Leland’s questionable background… superlatives fail me.

Seeing Martin demonstrate, in so many ways, his fitness to BE emperor- again, you do that with such a light, sure touch. Wonderful. And even as the power of the Septim waxes, Julian senses the mortality of the man (and perhaps even the Empire?) Moreover, when she frankly states the Miscarand frightened her, there is a sign of how far our former pilus has come. And it is also a measure of how much she trusts those to whom she reveals that fear. Freeing the ghosts in Sancre Tor was a step on this path, and an important one- but freeing some of her own ghosts was even more essential to becoming a true Blades Sister.

There is more- so much more- including Camillus and the Legion he just “found” lying around loose; the appearance of the Bruma Fighters Guild; the tactics of keeping a reserve and forcing the Daedra to attack. I am not caught up yet- but I am close. And how wonderful it is. Welcome once more to the fireside, Julian. There is a mug of mulled cider waiting for you.

@ghastley: Of course Ongar is out there looting the dead. The daedra, that is. Plenty of cheap dremora weapons and armor to be had, not to mention otherwise scarce alchemy ingredients such as daedra hearts! Thanks for the nit - belie is a word that has always given me trouble. Nit fixed! As for the Blades, apparently I haven't given much of an impression of more than just the few named Blades in the game. I should have thought to mention somewhere that Jauffre had called many of the Blades agents home to fill in the blanks left by the decimation of the Dragonguard.

@SubRosa: I am glad to surprise you for once! As I saw it, the townspeople wanted to celebrate Martin's victory, but when they saw him staying among the dead and wounded, making sure they were brought safely off the field, they went out themselves to help out. I'm sure Countess Carvain had something to do with it.

@Grits: Yes, Julian is already thinking of life beyond the main quest (LBMQ). With the end so palpably near, she is struggling to anticipate her role in the future. It doesn't help that Martin doesn't seem forthcoming with his plans for her.

@Acadian: After the time I spent on how unprepared Leyawiin's contingent was, and how inappropriate the choice of Cordelia was for the role of decanus, I had to be consistent and show the consequences of such failure on Draconis's part. In a way I wish Cordelia had the chance to live out her lesson, but war doesn't care about people's potential, as I'm sure you know. Yes, the comparisons between Lerus and Draconis in my fanfic is virtually inevitable. And perhaps sometime in the future we will see how Julian fulfills her promise to the Leyawiin veterans.

@McBadgere: One of the things I like about Julian is her ability in taking on the mannerisms of certain people - it's her way of poking fun at them without overtly disrespecting them. If she had been speaking to the guards of Skingrad, she would have said it differently! Same goes for Anvil and Chorrol. I'm glad you picked up on that sly humor of hers. And don't ever regret making nits! It's how we improve! Your second was much appreciated as well.

@treydog: Welcome back, my favorite Chorrol canine! It's so good to see you again. And I'm flattered that you started with my story. I have to admit that my Camillus found his inspiration in your Athlain's Legion trainer (Carnius? Carbo? I can't quite recall - forgive me!). Carvain was one of those characters that was intended to be just a minor thing, but she had other ideas of her own importance to the story. I'm thinking of giving her some writing time of her own, and find the answer to one of my most pressing questions of the game - how did she become Countess? Julian thanks you for the mulled cider.

The story so far: After the grueling hell of the Battle of Bruma comes Paradise. Camoran's Paradise, that is. I made an executive decision not to write what I feel is one of the most linear quests in the game (other than the tutorial), so we actually pick up on her return from her encounter with Mankar Camoran.

*********************
Chapter 32.1 - After Paradise

I met Cirroc as he exited the barracks wing. He managed to give me an evaluating glance and a welcoming greeting at the same time. “I’m fine, Cirroc,” I said softly. “Just tired.”

He nodded in agreement. “You look it, Julian. I take it Paradise wasn’t exactly a walk along the Abecean Sea.”

“No, it wasn’t,” I shook my head. “But my mission was accomplished, and that’s what matters.”

Cirroc regarded me a few moments longer. “Then I take it our Septim will be leaving Bruma soon?”

I took a deep breath. “Soon,” I affirmed. “What news of Roliand’s condition?”

Cirroc’s dark eyes grew bleaker. “No change, Julian. His body weakens the longer he remains unconscious.”

I looked down at the wide wooden floorboards beneath our feet. “That bad?” I hadn’t had a chance to see the big Nord since he had been carried into the Chapel of Talos. Cirroc and Orania still felt he was too frail for the long transport to Cloud Ruler Temple, so Roliand remained in one of the empty cells designated for the monks that never quite filled the place.

“Falvius prays for him four times daily,” Cirroc’s tired tone drew my gaze back up. “But so far Talos has not answered, one way or the other.”

I thought of Valdemar’s longing for the halls of Sovngarde. “Would it be better to let him pass on?” Saying the words hurt more than I expected. “Is that what Talos wants of us?”

Cirroc scowled at my words. “We are keeping him as comfortable as we can,” his breath hissed slowly between clenched teeth. “The rest is up to Talos.” His hand came up and gripped my shoulder. “You need to rest. I suspect our Septim will be keeping you busy in the upcoming days.”

“Tell me of the others,” I stopped him from leaving. “Caroline, Belisarius? And Cyrus’s arm?”

“They are regaining their strength,” Cirroc’s drawn expression lightened slightly. “You will find them in good spirits, I believe. Cyrus will recover the full use of his arm.”

Thank Akatosh, thank Talos! Finally I faced the fear in the pit of my stomach. “And the Captain?”

Once again Cirroc’s face reflected the severity of Steffan’s suffering. “His body heals, but his spirit remains afflicted,” he said softly. “He is struggling with the loss of his sword hand, and what it means for him. You understand.”

I closed my eyes and released his arm. I understand all too well. Akatosh knows how hard I’ve tried to forget it. “Thank you, Cirroc, for all you’ve done for my brothers and sister.”

“It is the least I can do,” he answered softly. “The Blades have lost too many. Yes, it’s for the sake of Martin Septim, but Bruma has benefited from your sacrifice just as much.” He sighed. “And after all, we share the blessing of Talos, Bruma and the Blades.”

I remained rooted to the spot a few moments longer after Cirroc departed into the cold afternoon sunlight. The Hall of Blades stood silent, empty of life. I turned and looked up at the katanas hanging from the rafters, my eye seeking out the newest additions.

Achille, how can we maintain watch from our gates without your eagle gaze? Baragon, where is your crooked smile, your dry laugh? Fortis and Pelagius, who will take your place on the practice sands? And Jena, who will remind me that I am woman as well as soldier?

My vision blurred as I lowered my gaze to the fire still crackling in the great hearth. The chalk lines drawn on the floorboards before it, already dispersed by passing feet, swirled vaguely through my tears.

“Ma’am?” A new voice broke my gloom and brought me back to myself. I wiped the back of my left hand across my eyes before turning to face the speaker. His gaze flickered briefly, and he shifted uneasily in the blue and gold cuirass. About my age, the Breton shared the same florid complexion as his High Rock fellows, the same lean, rangy frame. But he wore the heavy armor with unease.

“I’ve not met you before, sir,” I said. “I’m Julian of Anvil.”

“I know,” he nodded, his dark brown forelock flopping into his eyes. “I’m Dunore Wickford -” His eyes flickered briefly. “Dunore, I mean.”

“Ah, yes, Grandmaster Jauffre asked you to stay on as part of the Dragonguard?” I recalled the aged Breton mentioning keeping back a few of his more experienced agents to replace Fortis and Pelagius.

Dunore straightened unconsciously within the cuirass. “Yes, ma’am,” he answered, pride creeping into his voice. “I’ve Legion forester experience, but never fought in a cohort.”

“The Blades are not quite the same as a Legion cohort,” I replied. “So I wouldn’t worry too much about that. Just listen to Baurus and do what he tells you to do. He’s a good man to follow.”

“Actually,” now Dunore smiled, a lopsided smile that reminded me heartbreakingly of Baragon, “that’s exactly what I’m doing now. Captain Baurus told me to do two things. First, to tell you that dinner will be ready in about three hours, if you want to take your rest before then.”

I smiled back the tears that threatened again. “Thanks, Dunore. And what was the second?”

“To ask you, ma’am -”

“Dunore,” I broke in, “we are brother and sister in the Blades here. I’m just Julian to you.” My grief subsided a little at the bemusement in Dunore’s face. “Go on, what are you supposed to ask me?”

“If you will teach me those Legion cohort tactics that you feel would be useful in the Blades, ma -” he shook his head, “Julian.” His gaze shifted toward the barracks door behind me. “After you’ve rested and eaten, of course.”

“Of course, Dunore,” I responded. “I will be happy to do so. Are there more than just you?”

“New guards, you mean?” Dunore nodded. “Ertius is here as well, he’s from the lower Niben basin.” His eyes grew distant for a moment. “For now, it’s just us two and Captain Baurus.”

“Then let’s all get together after dinner and we’ll discuss tactics,” I suggested. “I’m not familiar with Dragonguard work, so we’ll need Captain Baurus’s input as well.” I smiled again at the look that crossed Dunore’s face. “You can tell the Captain this was my idea.”

“Yes, ma’ - Julian,” Dunore returned my smile lopsidedly and saluted rather awkwardly before turning away. As I watched him leave the hall, I became aware of Grandmaster Jauffre watching me from a chair in the shadows.

“Hello, Grandmaster,” I greeted him softly, uncertain if he was in a mood for conversation or seeking a moment’s solitude.

“Hello, Julian,” his tone was as gruff as ever, revealing no emotion other than that of a commanding officer. “You really need to get some rest while you can.”

“Yes, sir,” I saluted him before striding to the barracks door. The significance of Dunore’s salute hit me - not one between equals but of a subordinate to his superior. My hand on its knob, I hesitated and glanced back at his shadowed form. “But Grandmaster, since when do I have rank in the Blades?”

His head turned toward me. “Rank?” he repeated. “You’ve certainly earned it.”

“But I’ve only been a Blade sister a few months!” I exclaimed softly. “There are others who have served for longer! Dunore, for one, I’m certain.”

“Dunore has been an agent for many years, true,” Jauffre’s head nodded. “But it’s not the length of service that counts, it’s the quality of that service. And you’ve had a very full few months. No, you don’t have any official rank other than that of Blade sister, but the others respect you for what you’ve done. And that is why Dunore saluted you.”

A fine choice, to skip the walkthrough of Paradise and join Julian back at CRT.

‘I thought of Valdemar’s longing for the halls of Sovngarde. “Would it be better to let him pass on?” Saying the words hurt more than I expected. “Is that what Talos wants of us?”
Expertly phrased for just the right effect. We could feel exactly what Julian did and why she felt it.

How like Julian to ask of Steffan last. Not only is he the boss, but he’s got a tug going on with Julian’s heartstrings.

I like that you remind us how important Talos is to the Blades and that Bruma is the City of Talos not by accident.

Great treatment of the Hall of Blades and its newest additions as Julian shares her poignant thoughts and memories of her fallen brothers and sister.

Julian is reminded that Baurus is now Captain – tempting her eyes to tear up again over what Steffan has lost.

Perhaps Ongar was the source for all of the Daedric equipment I see carried by marauders in the game.

I’m definitely in favor of not writing the game parts that don’t inspire you. I’m guessing from the scuffed chalk marks and Jauffre’s greeting that Julian has been back for some time, and that Martin is now wearing the Amulet. I got confused when it sounded like Julian didn’t know what had been going on with the recovering Blades in the barracks wing.

Good to see the Dragonguard starting to fill in their ranks. Now there’s Captain Baurus instead of Captain Renault, but I wonder what will happen with Captain Steffan.


Possible nit: “But I’ve only been a Blade sister a few months!” I exclaimed softly, keeping my voice soft.
I suspect that only one of the ‘softs’ was supposed to make it through editing.

I can understand the desire to skip the events in Paradise and just cut to the chase. Paradise is a long grind, and it follows what was already a long grind in the Battle of Bruma. It is enough to make the reader weary. Instead this gives us a few more quiet pieces to recoup before the next, final big grind of the story's climax.

“And after all, we share the blessing of Talos, Bruma and the Blades.”
This was something that never occurred to me while playing the game. But it does make sense that CRT would be placed near Bruma, in that both are dedicated to Talos.

We meet a new member in Dunore. That was a good touch, to come after Julian's dwellage over all those who had been lost, both to death and wounds, and those whose lives still hung in the balance.

Excellent stuff!...

Loved the bit with Julian looking up at the Katanas...A brilliant, yet sad reminder of the losses in the battle...

And a nice intro to the newbies...Amazingly done that...Loved it...

Again with the good idea about giving up on Paradise...I tended to spend my trip through there going "Dear Zod, shut up will ya?!!..." ...

Nice one!!....

*applauds heartily*...

@Acadian: I wanted to affirm just how much the trials of Sancre Tor affected Julian and bound her more tightly to the Blades. I'm glad that you picked up on her sentiment regarding Valdemar. Roliand shares much in common with Destri's big Nord, so as he lingers in the land between the dead and the living, it should not be surprising that Julian would think of Valdemar and his curse. And yes, she is still struggling to hide (deny?) her feelings for the Blades Captain.

@Grits: You are so right about Ongar being the source of all the daedric armor on the damn marauders in the game! Of course he would not let an opportunity like this pass him by! Thanks for the nit, it's been fixed! And yes, the Blades will be moving on.

@SubRosa: I'm glad you liked meeting Dunore. He's a good man, but quite unused to the Blades armor. He now stands in the same place Julian once stood in just a few months ago - the newbie trying to fit in. Now it's Julian's turn to play the role of mentor and ease his transition from secret agent to Dragonguard. As for the connection between the CRT and Bruma that you and Acadian pointed out, it did not occur to me until the eighth or tenth playthrough that the CRT was placed beside Bruma for a reason, and that both are on the border to Skyrim for the same reason. But when you think about it, it makes perfect sense, considering that Tiber Septim is claimed as a son of Skyrim.

@McBadgere: I wanted to remind my readers of the purpose of those katanas hanging in the Hall of Blades. It makes perfect sense that our lost Blades would be remembered by those blades, especially by those who knew them.

The story so far: Julian has returned with the Amulet of Kings from Camoran's Paradise, and is now seeking much-needed rest. But first she must greet a couple of good friends before she can sleep.

********************
Chapter 32.2 A New Guilt

The barracks was quiet and warm. Only four of the beds were occupied. Cyrus and Belisarius snored softly on their adjacent bedrolls. Caroline lay a few spots away, her pillow pulled over her head. I smiled at the tableaux as I placed Touch in its spot on the weapons rack. Though I tried my best to maintain the silence, the mail cuirass made a soft slithering sound as I slipped out of it and hung it next to the rack.

A cold nose touched my palm. I looked down at Sai’s blue eyes. His white-tipped tail waved uncertainly until I rubbed his ears in silent greeting. My fingers slowed as my gaze drifted across the dimly lit barracks toward the long form against the far wall.

Captain Steffan lay on his right side, back to the room. The stillness of his body set off an alarm in my heart, until I saw his shoulders move slightly with a shallow breath. Still having trouble breathing with all the blood in his chest. Cirroc had advised me that it would take time for his body to resorb all the fluid shed into his internal cavities. Until then, breathing would be a struggle.

I looked back down at Sai still standing before me, at the blue eyes so like those of the other. The Skyrim Husky mix had stuck to Steffan’s side on the field and since our return to Cloud Ruler Temple. I had commanded him to remain with the Captain instead of accompanying me into Paradise. This time Sai had obeyed and stayed behind. He loves Steffan as much as I do. Only he is not bound by rules of rank and command. He is free to demonstrate his affection. For a moment I felt a twinge of jealousy, then shame at my weakness.

Silently I signaled Sai to return to Steffan’s side. Stay with him, keep him company. Don’t leave him alone. The dog floated obediently down the length of the barracks to take his place along Steffan’s back. I saw the white muzzle drop to white paws as I moved toward the bedroll next to Caroline.

Her face appeared from beneath the muffling pillow as I lay back and drew the blanket to my shoulders. “Welcome back, Julian,” she whispered. “Were you successful?”

I nodded, the exhaustion in my bones pressing my limbs toward the warmth of the hypocaust beneath the floorboards.

“I can see you’re tired, Julian,” Caroline murmured. “Good luck sleeping with that symphony of sawblades!”

With a chuckle at her pun, I turned my head left to catch the flash in her brown eyes. “It means they’re getting better, Caroline. They’ll be out tomorrow.”

“I wish I could say the same for myself,” Caroline hissed petulantly. “But Cirroc says I need a day longer.”

“At least it’ll be a day of peace,” I answered. “Take advantage of it while it lasts!”

“Oh, I intend to!” Caroline’s eyes grew somber as her gaze drifted past me toward the far wall. “That dog of yours has hardly left the Captain’s side. I hope Steffan finds his spirits soon enough.”

The snores from the opposite end of the room increased briefly in volume as one of the men shifted on his bedroll. Caroline hugged her pillow tighter over her head with a stifled groan. “Go to sleep, Julian!”

“I’ll try,” I responded. Unprompted, a memory of Jelin’s teaching surfaced in my fatigued mind. There is no try! Only do! He had told me that after knocking the Legion short sword out of my hand with nothing more than a flexible bamboo cane for the thirty-sixth time that day. All right, Jelin. I’ll do it. I’ll sleep. My eyes closed and Cloud Ruler Temple faded away.

“Who are you? You’re not one of us!” The man with the Redguard features appeared out of the darkness of the cave as I neared the bottom of the passage. He moved to stand in my way, his fists clenched.

Another, this one a Breton female, materialized at the Redguard’s shoulder. “You!” her voice crackled with hatred and fury. “You’re the one who sent us here!”

The Redguard’s eyes widened. “You are the Champion Mankar Camoran spoke of?”

“You know full well she is!” The Breton stepped past the Redguard and jabbed my Wolf with a sharp finger. “She killed many of us at Lake Arrius!”

“She didn’t send me here,” the Redguard shook his head, gently pushing the Breton aside. “I was killed at Kvatch - I never saw her there.”

Others crowded around us, murmuring among themselves. My right hand clenched on the hilt of Akatosh’s Touch as I heard the mingled hatred and regret in their voices. “I am Julian of Anvil,” I pitched my voice to cut through the mutterings. “But I do not know any of you.”

“We are the Ascended Immortals,” the Redguard spoke into the sudden silence. By the way the others listened to him and nodded assent, I gathered that he spoke for them, much as Boldon spoke for the people of Kvatch. “You knew us as the Mythic Dawn. We joined Mankar Camoran for the immortality he promised us.”

“Immortality!” the Breton woman scoffed. “Eternal torture is more like it!”

“We are immortal,” the Redguard admitted. “That much is true. But what Mankar Camoran failed to tell us is what we must endure here in his Paradise. Daedra hunt us and torture us. We suffer endless agony and cannot die.”

I winced at the bleak tone in the Redguard’s voice. “I am sorry to hear that, sir,” I said quietly. “But I saw some of your friends die -”

“No, it is not death that claims us,” the Redguard shook his head. “No, our bodies are destroyed, but our souls are reborn to begin the cycle all over again. We are helpless to stop it.”

“But we have Anaxes confined,” one of the others, an Imperial man, volunteered. “He is the worst of them. Our suffering is a little less for it.”

I swallowed. I needed to free this Anaxes in order to reach Carac Agaialor. The thought of turning him loose to harass these poor souls made the bile rise in my throat.

“It took us many weeks, and we died many times,” the Imperial man told me. “But we managed to trap him here, and now he hunts us no more.”

“But you are here for a reason, aren’t you?” The Redguard drew my attention back to him. “You are not one of us. Camoran did not bring you here, am I right?”

“You are correct,” I agreed. “I am sent here to recover the Amulet of Kings that Camoran holds. I must kill Camoran and destroy his Paradise.”

The faces around me brightened. “Destroy his Paradise -!” the Breton woman exclaimed softly. “If Paradise is destroyed, it could be the end of our suffering?”

The Redguard eyed me thoughtfully. “It could very well be,” he mused. As the other Immortals whispered and murmured among themselves, his dark gaze suggested the ticking of his mind. I realized that he had been a scholar in his previous life. “Yes, if Paradise is destroyed, our souls will be freed.” He straightened up, and his jaw firmed. “What can we do to help you accomplish your mission, Julian of Anvil?”

“I need to pass through the Forbidden Grotto,” I answered.

“Kathutet guards the Grotto,” the Imperial man spoke into the silence. “How will you get past him with just a thin katana?”

“Akatosh’s Touch has been proven against those such as he,” I answered. “But I wish to preserve its magic for what lies beyond.” I shook my head. “And Kathutet is quite powerful. I don’t have much time to waste in fighting him.”

“And you would risk much in fighting him,” the Redguard nodded. “So how would you get the Bands of the Chosen from him?”

“He has offered to give them to me,” I hated my decision. “If I perform a simple task for him.” I saw the dawning comprehension in the Redguard’s gaze as the others muttered their bemusement.

“Anaxes?” The Redguard’s question was the barest breath, intended for my ears only. Silently I nodded. He breathed deeply as tortured memories passed through his expression. Wordlessly, he jerked his chin toward the rear of the cave. In the shadows beyond the Immortals, I could see smoke drifting around a boulder, braced by heavy timbers. Then the Redguard was pushing his way through the Immortals, away from me.

“Fellow Immortals!” he shouted, drawing their attention after him. I recognized his attempt to distract the others from what I intended to do and closed my eyes briefly at the thought of his sacrifice. “The end of our suffering is near! Julian of Anvil will seek out Mankar Camoran and destroy him! Destroy Paradise, do you understand?”

While the others turned to listen to him, I faded into the shadows along the wall and moved toward the obstruction. The Redguard’s voice followed after me as I made my way to the rear of the cave. “Shall we help this Champion?” The roared assent startled me by its strength. “Then we must prepare ourselves for the ultimate sacrifice! We must support the Champion no matter what! Even if it means more torture!”

By now I had reached the bracing timbers. I glanced back across the cave to see the Redguard’s gaze on me. He nodded at me. One of the Immortals near the rear of the crowd glanced back and spotted me just as I reached for one of the timbers.

“No!” he shouted. “Don’t let Anaxes loose!” He began running toward me, and I swiftly kicked the heavy lumber out of alignment. With a groan the wood snapped and the boulder shifted alarmingly towards me. I leaped back just as the Immortal reached the stone. Helplessly he leaned his hands against it. “If I can just hold this -”

A muffled boom sounded from behind the boulder, and the heavy rock tumbled forward, crushing the hapless Immortal beneath it. Shouts and screams resounded across the cave as the others realized what I had done.

Several of the Immortals stepped toward me as I ran for the entrance. “No!” the Redguard thundered at them. “Let her go! Let her carry out her task! Run now! Run before Anaxes catches you!” He leaped toward me and waved the others toward the cave entrance. “The sooner the Champion kills Camoran, the sooner our souls will be free! GO!” He turned toward me as the others crowded for the passageway leading out onto the shore. His gaze moved past me and widened.

I glanced behind me to see the biggest xivilai ever stalking after me. His bare feet slapped the stone with heavy booms, yet he moved deceptively fast. I put on a burst of speed and ran past the Redguard.

He stepped before Anaxes. The xivilai picked him up in one hand and bit savagely into the side of the Redguard’s skull. A scream chased me out of the cavern. “Do not let us suffer any longer! Do not fail --!”

I followed the frantic Immortals out onto the sand. Gasping for breath, I looked ahead over the ocean, glowing softly in the perpetual sunrise. No, I will not fail.

The pearlescent light of Paradise faded away into the warm darkness of the old temple. I stared upward at the massive wooden beams supporting the second floor above us. Grief reared up yet again, this time for the poor souls trapped by Mankar Camoran’s lies and half-truths. Are they truly free? Or have they moved on to some other plane of Oblivion, doomed to an eternity of torture and rebirth?

So now we get to see Steffan again. Poor guy. Not only has he been grievously wounded, but his days as a warrior are now over. I do not envy him in the coming days, when he will be forced to reexamine his worth, and his future.

He loves Steffan as much as I do.
I see Julian is getting more and more comfortable with acknowledging her own feelings for Steffan.

So you did decide to recap the events in Paradise. I think that was a good idea to hold off on doing that until now. This way you have given us some time to slow down and take stock in between. Covering it all through flashbacks is classic H.E.R.. I swear I learned more about writing flashbacks from reading OHDH than any other source.

I always thought it was a very bitter irony that the dead members of the Mythic Dawn found that their paradise was actually an eternity of suffering. That was a good piece of writing on Bethesda's part, as it reveals the true natures and goals of both Mankar Camoran and his master. Their liberation is a lie, and their paradise a horror.

Sai’s dedication to Steffan was touching and you used it effectively as a mirror to show us more of how Julian feels about her broken Captain.

I enjoyed how she handled Paradise. Julian managed to find quite a bit of sympathy for the Mythic Dawners as they endlessly lived and died with the consequences of their choices to follow Mankar Camaron. Your description of Anaxes getting free and the beginning of his rampage was chilling.

I love the way you presented part of the Paradise ordeal through a flashback. Julian’s reaction to the Ascended Immortals’ plight was very true to what we know of her. I enjoyed this update very much.

I was also pleased to see her put a name to her feelings for Steffan and the obstacle between them. The suspense is building for when Julian finally gets to speak with him.

Loved the flashback...Can't actually remember much of that section...Other than the droning on, of course... ...

Fantastically done...

Loved the bit in CRT...Always had a soft spot for Caroline...Long story...But aaamywho...

Brilliant chapter...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

@SageRosa: I agree that the bit about the fates of the Mythic Dawn members was brilliant on the part of Bethesda. I chose to highlight only that portion of the Paradise quest just for that reason - there is a morality and consequence to our choices.

@Acadian: Yes, Sai is an accurate mirror of Julian's feelings about her Captain. I'm glad that came across well.

@Grits: You won't have to wait much longer for the moment when Julian does speak to Steffan.

@McBadgere: I'm sorry to say that I've given Caroline short shrift here. She is quite the interesting person and I like her a great deal too.

The story so far: Julian has caught up on her sleep after the double-whammy of the Bruma battle and its aftermath and the long grind of Paradise. Now we see her keeping her promise to one of the newest additions to the Dragonguard.

**************************
Chapter 32.3 What’s the Point?

“That should do it for now,” Baurus leaned back until the chair creaked under his armored bulk. “You’ve given us plenty to think about, Julian.”

I met his gaze. “I’m glad I could be of assistance to the Dragonguard.” I smiled. “Times like this, I wish I was joining you!”

The brilliant grin eased his haggard features. “Times like this, I wish you were one of us!” As quickly as it came, the smile disappeared and grief returned to Baurus’s eyes. “Yet you will be more useful to the Emperor elsewhere.”

I rose to my feet with a nod at Dunore and Ertius. “Right now I’d be more useful in the stables. The horses need care.”

“Thank you, Julian,” Dunore stood as well. “Your advice and tips will be helpful for us, I’m certain.”

“I hope so,” I nodded at Baurus, his chair still tipped back on its rear legs. “I learned as much from him, if not more, about how things are done in the Dragonguard!”

“But Captain Baurus is probably right,” the Imperial, olive-skinned and dark-haired like most Nibeneans, did not quite match Dunore’s height. “The Dragonguard needs to learn new tactics.”

“That’s why Grandmaster Jauffre asked the two of you to join me,” Baurus remained comfortable in his seat. “Your forester experience will be invaluable in the days to come.”

“I agree,” I clapped Baurus on the shoulder, then steadied him as the chair nearly tipped him backwards. “I will see all of you in the morning.”

I returned to the barracks first to claim my brown cloak. Just a couple of weeks to the winter solstice, the cold was unbearable to my Anvil blood. Even out in the snug stables I still felt the cold.

I found Cyrus and Belisarius finishing off the last of their dinner with Caroline. They greeted me warmly.

“Caroline tells me you were successful,” Cyrus shifted the sling over his shoulder as he looked up from the remains on his plate.

I stopped and knelt beside them. “Yes, I was. And Martin now wears the Amulet of Kings.”

“So it’s true then,” Belisarius wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Martin’s a true Dragonborn.”

“Did you ever doubt it?” Cyrus retorted. “With Julian and Grandmaster Jauffre vouching for him?”

“I don’t know that I ever vouched for him,” I shook my head. “I just took Grandmaster’s word for it.”

“But you’ve met Uriel Septim, didn’t you?” Caroline turned to me. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see his eyes, hear his voice in Martin?”

“Baurus certainly did,” Cyrus stated firmly. “And if any one of us knew Uriel as well as Baurus did, we would know beyond a doubt, too.”

“Now there is no doubt at all, is there?” I asked them. They shook their heads in unison. “Then be quiet and finish recovering. It’s time to put you back to work if you’re well enough to gossip.”

Caroline spluttered her klah over her tunic while Cyrus and Belisarius grinned unrepentantly. Futilely she wiped at the brown stains. Her hand slowed as she considered the hem of the white material.

The mood grew somber as I studied the focus of Caroline’s concentration. Tiny white flowers - edelweiss - sewn in fine silk gave the otherwise plain tunic an edge of feminine elegance.

Her black hair gleamed purple in the daylight from the clerestory windows. Jena sat cross-legged on the table beneath the hanging blades, a white padded tunic in her lap. One hand moved swiftly over the fabric, drawing thin white silk through the material. I moved closer to look at the design. Tiny entwined flowers took shape along the hem of the utilitarian item following the path of the needle.

Jena looked up with a smile, her hands pausing for a moment. “Hello Julian.”

“That’s pretty,” I gestured at the flowers. “I didn’t know you embroidered.”

Jena shrugged. “It’s something to relax.” She held up the tunic to the light. The white silk shimmered subtly against the sturdier linen fabric. “Caroline’s birthday is coming up, and I thought this would be a good present for her. She was complaining that she needed a new quilted tunic for the winter.”

“It’s a good idea, Jena,” I smiled at the thought.

“Yes, and edelweiss is her favorite flower. They bloom in our plaza every spring, when the snow melts from the stones.”

“I’m sure Caroline will love that tunic, Jena.”

The Imperial woman met my gaze. “If you like, I’ll put Akatosh’s Dragon on yours, to go with your tattoo.”

I blinked at her offer. “That would be -”

“I’ll do it, Julian,” Jena nodded to herself. “After all, we’re sisters, aren’t we?”

“I miss Jena,” Caroline murmured softly, bringing my thoughts back to the present. “I think of her every time I -” her voice broke. Belisarius lifted his left arm around her shoulders and hugged her close against his side.

Cyrus caught my glance. “How do you deal with losing your comrades, Julian?”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t get any easier,” I answered. “No matter how many, it’s just as hard as the first time.” I took the pewter cup from Caroline’s hand and set it carefully on the tray between us. “I didn’t get to know my tironii as well as you have come to know your comrades, but I felt each death. Eventually one starts avoiding getting to know the young’uns. Makes their loss easier to bear. But only for a while.”

“How do you find the strength to go on?” Caroline whispered from behind her hands.

I swallowed. “You just do,” I said finally. “Give yourself time.” After a few moments’ silence, I rose to my feet. “I must tend to the horses.”

Sai glanced at me over his shoulder as I approached the far end of the barracks. Steffan sat slumped over his bowl, the spoon dangling from a slack hand. His own food dish empty, Sai turned his gaze back to the captain, pawing at his elbow and whining.

I had to admire the dog’s restraint. Though he could help himself to the savory stew in Steffan’s bowl, Sai instead seemed more concerned by the man’s apparent lack of interest in his nourishment. Once again I felt the sick feeling in my stomach at the reminder of my own despair not so long ago.

As I collected my brown wool cloak from its peg, I found myself moving to Sai’s side. His tail thumped gently on the floorboards as I knelt beside Steffan. “You need to eat, Captain,” I spoke softly, ruffling my fingers in the dog’s fur.

Steffan stirred and looked up at me. My jaw clenched involuntarily at the haunted expression in his gaunt face. After a breath, he looked away and set the spoon down beside his hip. Then he placed the bowl beside Sai's own. "He can have it - I'm not hungry," he murmured.

I drew breath against old memories. "Are you in pain, Captain?" I managed to keep my voice steady, but Sai still glanced at me in concern. "I can get you something for it -"

Steffan shook his head. "There is no point, is there? What good am I without a sword hand?" I stared at him, stunned.

"What good am I when I can't even walk?" My anger was clear in my tone. Florio leaned back in surprise. "I heard the immunes talking," I continued. "They say my knee will never heal, that I'll always be crippled. How can I train tironii when I can't even stand up?"

"There's more to life than being a pilus, Julian," Florio murmured. He reached for my shoulder, but I knocked his hand away. His eyes darkened and his lips thinned as I glared at him. "You're too smart and too talented to limit yourself to just fighting."

"Fighting's all I know," I growled at him. "And now I can't even do that. Get out. Go back to your cohort. Forget about me."

Florio rose to his feet. "I'll never forget you, Julian, nor will I forget what you taught me." He turned and walked away, leaving me alone in my agony and self-pity.

The old anger surged into my throat as I regarded Steffan. His eyes downcast, he cradled his stump against his ribs. Don't you dare follow the same path I did. Don't even start! "You still have your mind -" I began.

"What good am I," Steffan's gaze flared at me. "What kind of Captain would I make if I can't even fight anymore? What's left -"

The sound of my palm against his unshaven cheek cracked through the barracks. Steffan recoiled away from me, his face turned to the wall. Sai whined and squeezed between us, bodily pushing me away. "What good are you?" I repeated his words. "You are not the one laying in the Chapel of Talos unconscious with his body wasting away! You are not the one whose katana hangs in the Hall of Blades! So what if you're missing a hand? You still have your other one! Both your feet!" I drew breath to continue my tirade, but Steffan's gaunt profile stopped me. Who am I to scold my Captain like this? It should be Grandmaster Jauffre telling him this, not me! Grief choked my throat, silenced whatever I had left to say.

"Julian!" Martin's voice brought me to awareness of our surroundings. I glanced down the length of the room to see him standing next to the others, Jauffre and Baurus beside him. The shock in the Emperor's face was clear to see through the tears in my eyes.

Sudden shame at the loss of my self-control washed over me. I’ve let my feelings get in the way again. I surged to my feet and bolted for the door leading out into the courtyard.

Somehow I made it down the steep and icy stairs and out the gate. The others called, but my feet hit the mountain trail before hoofbeats caught up to me.

Blanco slid in front of me and blocked my forward descent. As I leaned against him, he whickered and blew into my neck. Again I heard Martin's voice, again shame spurred me to flee. I leaped onto Blanco's bare back and kneed him down the mountain trail. He sprang forward under my urging and flew along the cobblestones, his breath flowing back in streams of mist against my face. His mane stung my face, but not as hard as the cold air freezing the tears against my cheeks.

But no matter how fast he ran, Blanco could not outrun the turmoil of emotions that tore my soul apart. I leaned against his neck as he slowed to a stop beneath a towering pine near where the road bent south for Bruma. The cold seeped into my bones as I wept into Blanco's mane. He stood quietly, not moving a muscle as I gave in to grief, despair and shame.

An emotional episode. Fabulous use of the embroidering flashback to remind us of Jena.

Then a bit of a dam burst as Julian unloaded on Steffan.

A constant quiet thread here was Julian’s halting progress throughout of ‘going to tend the horses’. Finally, she made it, only to have Blanco tending her. The stallion delivered Julian’s need for speed, but even that was not enough to soothe her troubled spirit.

What a lovely memory of Jena.

Julian’s emotions felt very real here, as did Steffan’s reaction to losing his hand. I remember his talks with Julian in happier times. There is more to him than fighting, too.

I’m intrigued to learn what plans Martin has for Julian. Her flashback to Florio’s words after her injury packed a lot into just a few lines, and now she’s been on both sides of that conversation. Though it seems that Florio did less smacking.

This episode is definitely one of my very favorites! (And now I really have a late-night hankering for CRT stew!)

So the new Dragonguard is taking a hard look at how it does things? That is a good idea, considering how badly things went with Uriel and his legitimate sons.

Just a couple of weeks to the winter solstice
This was a good way of telling us that it is early December umm, Evening Star.

The edelweiss designs in Caroline's tunic were a nice nod to Private Blithe in Band of Brothers. Tying it to a flashback of Jena was brilliant. Not only does it gives us a very vivid window into the grief that all are suffering, the edelweiss itself mimics its role in BoB, as a symbol of experience and survival. Just as Blithe picked the edelweiss from a dead German to show that he had seen the elephant and lived, so too does Caroline's tunic now become a symbol that she survived.

What good am I without a sword hand?
I have been waiting for that. Julian's own feelings made themself clear in her outburst. That was well done. Not only does she have her own love for the man driving her, but also her own fears and regrets from how poorly she handled being in the same position years ago.

@Acadian: I continue to try and hint at the richness of life that is Cloud Ruler Temple through these flashbacks. Even though half of our brave Blades are gone, their spirits are still very much a part of this story, much as Casnar, Rielus, Valdemar and Alain are part of it in spite of being dead for more than 400 years. I'm delighted that you picked up on the "going to tend the horses" bit. It is something Julian took on herself in Roliand's absence.

@Grits: Steffan's struggle is just my way of highlighting the true tragedy of war - it lies not in those who died, but in those who survived marked by it. If Roliand ever wakes up from his head injury, will he be the same Nord with the mischievous twinkle in his eye from before? I'm glad you felt that the emotions here felt real. I was worried that I might be over the top, but apparently not. As for Martin's plans for Julian, I wonder if we will ever find out, knowing how this story ends. And perhaps Florio oughta have done some smacking back then! Who knows, this story may not be written had he done so!

@SubRosa: TBH, I was not thinking of the edelweiss in BoB, but now that you point it out, I recall that little bit very clearly. I'm glad the edelweiss sang to you as it did - it did accomplish what I wanted it to do. And I'm glad you picked up on her fears for the good Captain.

The story so far: Still emotionally strung out by the battle of Bruma and the trip through Paradise, Julian has lost control of her feelings once again and has fled Cloud Ruler Temple to escape their power.

*****************************
Chapter 32.4 Rules and Regulations


"Julian." The quiet voice broke into my sobbing. Beneath me, Blanco swung his head right and whickered softly. I sensed Jasmine stop beside me, bumping noses with the stallion before rejecting his amorous advances yet again.

I straightened up and turned my head away, sniffling and wiping away the frozen fluids on my face. "I - I don't feel like talking now, Sire," I murmured when I found my voice again. "I'm sorry."

"Is that how you treated your tironii when they were wounded and hurting?" Somehow Martin's voice lacked the censure of his words. "Handle them harshly to toughen them up?"

I couldn't find the words to answer that question, so I only shook my head.

"I always thought you got on well with Captain Steffan," he continued after a moment. "It seemed to me that you held a great deal of respect for him. That's why I was surprised to see you strike him like that."

"I was disappointed in him," I said finally. "Disappointed, and afraid for him."

"Afraid?" Martin repeated. "Afraid how?"

"Steffan - " I stopped and took a shaky breath. "Captain Steffan was speaking of being useless without a sword hand. Of having nothing to live for."

"That's a normal reaction, I think," Martin nudged Jasmine closer to us. I felt something soft drape across my shoulders and looked down to see my brown wool cloak. I realized that I had left it beside Steffan’s bedroll. My hands came up to pull it across my body. "It's quite a shock to lose some part of yourself."

I shook my head. "It's more than that," I murmured.

"How so, Julian?"

"That was me, laying there in that bed," the words spilled out before I could stop them. "Not so long ago, when I was crippled and in so much pain. When I looked at the end of my Legion career and realized I had nothing left to live for." My voice caught, and I shook the tears from my eyes violently. "When I started down that awful path of drink and skooma and loneliness -" I couldn't speak any more and covered my face with my hands.

"That's what you are afraid of?" Martin's voice held a gentleness that warmed the chill in my bones. "That Captain Steffan would travel down that path? That he would disappoint you?" I couldn't answer him, but I knew he understood. "I don't think he will go that way. He just needs time to come to grips with what has happened. And he needs the support of all of us."

"He is pushing us away," I whispered. "Even Sai. It's what I did. I turned my back on those who were closest to me. I gave up. And I'm afraid that is what Ste- Captain Steffan is doing." I lowered my hands and met Martin's gaze. "And I don't know how to stop him from going down that road!" In spite of my attempt at self-control, that last bit came out as a wail.

The stunned expression in his face took my breath away. He regarded me silently, his hazel eyes wide. Finally he looked away with a deep breath. "You feel a great deal more than just respect for Captain Steffan, don't you, Julian?"

I felt heat rise in my cheeks as I looked away and mumbled something. Is it so obvious? Do the others know? Akatosh, what do I do now?

"Don't tell me you won't admit it?" Martin's tone now held disbelief. "You've always been so straightforward and honest. Why not tell Steffan that you love him? It might just be what he needs to hear the most right now."

How to explain things to him? "There is a rule in the Legion," I murmured, my voice shaking a little. "No fraternization between officers and subordinates."

"Fraternization?" Martin repeated, his voice incredulous. "Is that what you describe your feelings for the Captain as?" I did not answer, only patted Blanco's mane smooth against his neck. Martin was silent for a few breaths. "Julian, I understand what the rule says, but I fail to see the reason for it." Now I heard that edge of command. "Explain."

"There are several reasons, actually," I answered. "If an officer and a subordinate have an affair, and it turns sour, there can be loss of respect between the two. Such lack of respect can lead to insubordination, and that can result in unnecessary loss of life on the battlefield. Alternatively, the one may make the decision to keep the other from carrying out duties that can lead to personal harm and potential loss of the partner."

"Somehow I think the both of you are too professional for that," Martin said. "I can see young recruits making those kinds of mistakes, but soldiers of your age and experience?"

"Emotions are powerful things, Sire," I said. "They can get in the way of carrying out the mission." I met his gaze again. "I almost failed you, Sire."

"What?" Martin's brows rose above startled eyes. "When?"

"When that dremora cut off Steffan's hand," I managed to keep my voice steady. "I forgot about the Great Sigil stone. All I could think of was stopping his bleeding, his agony." I closed my eyes against that terrifying moment. "It was Steffan who pushed me away, who ordered me to carry out my orders."

Martin considered my words thoughtfully. “So you are a woman after all, Julian.” It was spoken so softly that I questioned my hearing. Then his voice firmed. “I don’t doubt you would have done the same, if the tables had been reversed.” He turned his face away, and his eyes focused on something in the distance.

I looked in that direction. From our place beneath the lone pine, we could look across tumbled boulders toward the Plain of Caribou. Fires still littered its surface - atronach flesh was capable of burning for days. The remains of the four Gates gleamed softly, and the broken siege engine held its own infernal glow.

“Do you understand the rule now, Sire?” I brought myself back to the present.

“Yes, I do,” Martin said after a moment. “But you’re not in the Legion anymore, and I wonder if Legion rules should be applied to the Blades.”

“Why not?” I glanced at him. “The Blades is a military organization -”

“Not exactly,” Martin shook his head. “I think Grandmaster Jauffre can explain better than I, but the Blades is not strictly military. For that reason one can not extrapolate proper Legion protocol to the Blades.”

“That may be so,” I shrugged. “But our primary loyalty is to the Emperor, which means you, Sire. We can’t let our emotions cloud our judgment or subvert that loyalty.”

“Do you realize why the Legion has rules, Julian?” Martin’s tone became inquisitive. “It’s because the Legion takes young people, almost children in many ways, and teaches them responsibility and care for each other and for the Empire. Hardly any whole body who wants to join is turned away. But the selection process for the Blades is far more discriminating. You volunteer for the Legion, but the Blades choose you. And because of the caliber of the people chosen by the Blades, such rules as those found in the Legion become redundant, even unnecessary.”

I remained silent. What is he trying to tell me? That there are no rules at all in the Blades? But that doesn’t make sense! How does one know how to behave in the Blades?

“Julian, I -” Martin trailed off uncertainly. I glanced at him when he did not continue. His face was turned to the Plain below us, his shoulders slumped. After a few misty breaths, he straightened his spine and gathered Jasmine’s reins. “I depart in two days for the Imperial City,” command chilled his tone. “Get plenty of rest. Don’t stay out here too long.”

Momentarily unbalanced by the abrupt change in his mood, I watched as Martin kneed Jasmine around her hocks and set her clip-clopping back up the road to Cloud Ruler Temple. Blanco watched her go with a soft whicker, but did not move to follow her.

“Yes, Sire,” I whispered after Martin’s departing back.

So Martin himself went after Julian? Oh my. As embarrassing as it must be for Julian, it is quite the statement that she has an Emperor chasing after her to make sure she is alright. Not many people can boast of that. The Son's Companion indeed.

Following was an interesting and intriguing discussion on not only the need to curb sexual relations between officers and grunts, but also an insightful look at the differences between the legion and blades.

An interesting thing to note is that in Ancient Greece sexual relations between soldiers was not only unremarkable, but encouraged, and in Sparta mandatory. The Sacred Band of Thebes is probably the most notable and famous example. They believed that it strengthened the bonds between men. The thinking was that what man would flee, if his lover was standing in line beside him?

Now that is not the same as Julian's situation though. So do not think I am criticizing. The Ancient Greeks were not nearly as professional as you portray the Legion or the Blades. Not even the Spartans were. They were exceedingly tough, but that is not the same thing. The Legion's problem is not someone running away in battle, but people actually leaving someone behind so that they can keep going on to do their jobs. Just like Julian's situation during the battle when Stef was wounded. Not to mention the usual issues of nepotism. I think the Greeks just expected the latter to happen no matter what, so did not even try to make an attempt at treating common soldiers fairly or evenly.

Martin not only riding after Julian but bringing her cloak showed a great deal of care and attention. I wonder if the new emperor himself doesn’t have a bit more than respect for Julian.

I love the discussion of Blades contrasted with Legion. That Julian is left to puzzle things out for herself rather than being read title, chapter, and section of some regulation is an illustration of just what Martin was telling her.

This episode left me considering possibilities right along with Julian.

An interesting discussion as Martin forces Julian to reexamine things she thinks she knows through the filter of how it might apply to her brother/sisterhood of knights.

Martin’s abrupt change in mood could mean several things and I enjoyed that you, at least at this point, left that open. As Grits mentioned, it could reflect that he harbors feelings for Julian himself. Or perhaps he simply felt enough had been said and wanted Julian to connect the dots regarding Steffan. My gut tells me however, that he is his father’s son and is foreshadowing the cost of his own imminent future.

I also enjoyed that, despite the intensity of the scene between Julian and her Emperor, both horses played a role that you did not neglect.

That there are no rules at all in the Blades? But that doesn’t make sense! How does one know how to behave in the Blades?

She's on the brink of understanding that if one does not know how to behave, one is not chosen for the Blades. I suspect that part of it is a "If I don't know, follow the rules" safety net that she's reluctant to discard, and she just has to notice that she has enough judgement now to make her own when she needs them.

But now she has direct permission from the Emperor to deal appropriately with Steffan, so she doesn't have to get past that. It can catch up later.

But she's only got two days to get started!

@SubRosa: Yes, Son's Companion indeed! I wanted to play up the differences between the Legion as a place where one learns to be a responsible adult, and the Blades as the place where one goes once one becomes a responsible adult. I'm glad you liked the discussion of the differences between the two.

@Grits: I imagine the new Emperor still considers Julian his friend. After all, it hasn't been that long since she came to him in the ruins of Kvatch and changed his life forever. In giving him new purpose in going on, she has been steadfastly loyal to him. Having been raised a commoner's son, it's logical to me that Martin would return the same care and loyalty Julian has shown him. But you're right to wonder . . .

@Acadian: Horses have a way of inserting themselves into any situation. Anyone who has lived and worked with horses can not fail to miss that tendency. As for that abrupt change in mood, well, I suppose the cause for that remains to be seen. And yes, Julian needs to discard some old ways of thinking. It will be an ongoing process for her, especially in LBMQ.

@ghastley: You are remarkably observant in your comment about Julian needing to discard the rules safety net and to trust her own well-honed judgment. She hasn't yet reached the point Special Agent Gibbs has (with his Rules)!

The story so far: Julian finally admits to someone other than herself that she loves her Captain. Now they have to move on to the Imperial City and Martin's destiny as Emperor of Tamriel.

*******************
Chapter 33.1 A New Kit

“Good morning, Julian,” Grandmaster Jauffre’s gruff tone pulled my attention from the mailed cuirass on the armory rack. I glanced at him over my shoulder, then reached for a rag to wipe my oily hands. Jauffre set the laden tray on the rough table near the forge’s heat. “It’s breakfast time. We have a long, cold road ahead of us.”

Jauffre drew back the linen napkin covering the tray. He laid out the plates and cutlery in two place settings. I looked again at him as he poured the steaming klah from the pitcher. What is he trying to accomplish? The last two nights were spent in restless sleep, and the days in preparing the horses and myself for the trip to the Imperial City. Up early again today, I had set to oiling the enchanted cuirass again, ensuring that no rust had taken hold of its much-repaired links. In keeping myself busy, I had managed to avoid Captain Steffan and the other Blades.

“Eat up,” he said, not meeting my gaze. He seated himself first and began spooning the cooked eggs onto the plates. I reached for the klah and sipped at the bitter liquid, welcoming its heat. After another moment’s hesitation, I seated myself opposite the Grandmaster.

Jauffre did not speak as he laid strips of smoked boar and warm bread coated with honey on my plate. I watched bemusedly as he paused to mumble grace, then began to eat. After a couple of mouthfuls, he pointed his utensil at my plate. “Eat,” he said again around a mouthful of food. “We leave soon.”

“Yes, sir,” I followed his command somewhat reluctantly. We ate in silence for several moments. When Jauffre had cleared the last crumbs from his plate, he lowered his utensil. His eyes met mine as he set his elbows on the table, hands resting on each other before his face.

“How are the horses, Julian?”

“They’re nearly ready to go,” I answered, gulping down the last of my meal. “Saddling them will be quick work.”

“Good,” Jauffre took a sip of his klah. “Martin Septim wants to leave before the sun clears Gnoll Mountain. You’ve got about a bell to get ready.”

“I am ready, sir,” I followed suit with my own cup. “I stowed and shined my gear last night.”

“You will wear the Kvatch mail still?” Jauffre tipped his head at the cuirass gleaming softly in the glow from the banked forge. “Ferrum tells me it is very worn and damaged.”

“It is still suitable, sir,” I shook my head. “And I continue to honor the Kvatch guard as long as I wear it.”

Jauffre set his mug down, his downturned gaze pensive. “Ferrum told me you would say as much. But what of Leyawiin? You took them under your wing before the battle. Because of your actions, some of the Leyawiin guard live to return to their homes. What of Bravil? They came to Bruma because of you. And Skingrad? Anvil? Cheydinhal? Chorrol?”

“They came at the Countess’s request,” I avoided Jauffre’s sharp glance. “I was just the messenger.”

“Just a messenger?” Jauffre repeated. “You are now hailed as Hero of Bravil, of Cheydinhal, of Skingrad and Anvil and Chorrol. Leyawiin has created you a Knight, however ersatz that may be. And Bruma is calling you their Savior.”

“Martin Septim saved Bruma,” I heard the stubborn tone in my voice. “He and all the Guards.”

“Martin Septim is recognized as Emperor,” Jauffre countered. “And the Emperor outranks even the Savior of Bruma.” His tone turned ironic. “Julian, I know you are not one to hold yourself above your station. However, you’ve come far since the sick addict that walked into Weynon Priory and handed over the Amulet of Kings more than three months ago.”

I sighed. “No, I’m not the same person that Uriel Septim charged with that mission,” I admitted. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of -” my thoughts went to the fluffy sheep of Border Watch and the damned Immortals, “and failed at promises I’ve made,” this time I thought of Ursanne Loche, left alone in her upper-story hovel.

“And yet through it all you’ve kept the most important promise you made - the one to Uriel Septim. What did he call you, shortly before he died?”

I flinched again. “Sun’s Companion.” The words came reluctantly.

“Or Son’s Companion?” Jauffre asked. “Why do you feel obligated to follow Martin Septim and carry out his requests? I’ve never ordered you as a Blade to do so.”

Silently I regarded the remains of the klah in my cup. Why indeed? Why not? It’s not like I had other obligations. The Legion is in my past, as is Anvil. But now I have new friends, and adopted family back in Anvil. Now I have a future of sorts, with the Mages Guild. Now I have hope for finding purpose for my life. So why continue serving Martin Septim?

“Uriel gave me one last order before he died,” I said finally. “Close shut the jaws of Oblivion. I thought at first he meant close Oblivion Gates. But now I realize, he meant for me to see his last surviving son light the Dragonfires and take the Ruby Throne as his rightful heir.”

Jauffre rose to his feet and began gathering the remains of the breakfast onto the platter. “Julian, you have served well as an agent of the Blades. But now, I am reassigning you temporarily to the Dragonguard. As such, you must put on the Dragonscale armor and place yourself under Captain Baurus’s command.” His hands stilled on the stacked dishes. “Ferrum will kit you out.”

My gaze moved involuntarily toward the mail cuirass, its Wolf surcoat frayed at the hems and seams. It was difficult to swallow the walnut in my throat, but I knew better than to protest a direct order. “Yes, Grandmaster,” I said finally.

“See you in half a bell,” Jauffre picked up the platter and left the armory. I turned toward the cabinet where the Blades armor was stored.

Ferrum found me regarding the various pieces in some dismay. “I take it Jauffre gave you your instructions?”

I nodded. “But how are you going to kit me out in less than half a bell?”

“Easy,” Caroline appeared from behind him. “We already put your kit together last night. Ferrum’s been working on your own Dragonscale armor, and I’ve been putting together the rest.” In her arms she carried a bundle of white quilted material. “Shall we get started?”

“I suppose,” I stepped back from the cabinet and turned toward the forge. Ferrum moved to the opposite corner where a draped armor stand hunched in the shadows. He pulled the woolen cloth away to reveal the blue-and-gold enamel of the Dragonscale cuirass. Its burnished surface gleamed softly in the glow from the forge and drew me toward it.

“I used your leathers,” Ferrum’s voice held pride at his handiwork. “Took the measurements from them and made this to fit you. Every time I repaired your mail, I looked at how the undertunic was wearing out and adjusted the armor accordingly. You’ll find that even though you’re more fit since you put those leathers aside, this will fit you well enough.”

I approached the stand with something close to awe in my heart. My eyes caressed the gleaming surface of the Dragonscale. Something on the right breast caught my attention. I looked closer, and gasped when I recognized the Kvatch Wolf looking back at me. I reached out with shaking fingers and touched the medallion, smaller than the cup of my palm, set into the right breast of the armor.

“Grandmaster Jauffre approved the modifications,” Ferrum said. “I knew you would always want to carry the Wolf with you, just as you have kept the Dragon on your shield arm.”

“There’s more,” Caroline’s voice reached me from behind. I nodded in amazement as my eye caught two other medallions, each the size of my thumbprint. on the left breast. Anvil and Bravil. Leyawiin’s white stallion sparkled from the left pauldron, while Bruma’s yellow and brown falcon sigil gleamed from the right. On the left vambrace grew the Great Oak of Chorrol, resplendent in white on blue. The entwined vines of Cheydinhal rested next to the twin moons of Skingrad on the right vambrace.

Tears stung my eyes as I considered the amount of thought and work that went into creating this armor. “I - I don’t know what to say,” I said finally. “I’ve never had armor custom-made for me.” I realized that the Wolf tingled beneath my fingers.

“Martin Septim enchanted each of those sigils before they were set,” Ferrum’s soft voice continued. “Each according to the traits of the city’s Divine. Akatosh for speed, Dibella,” he touched Anvil’s sigil, “for love, Mara for compassion.” Now he touched Leyawiin, “Zenithar for luck, and Talos for strength,” his hand brushed the brown falcon. “And Stendarr for endurance, Julianos for wisdom, and Arkay for health.”

Stunned, I could only move my fingers from one medallion to the next, feeling the flicker of magic in each. “This is incredible,” I whispered. “I will wear this with pride. Thank you very much, Ferrum.”

As Ferrum inclined his head in acceptance of my gratitude, Caroline pushed the bundle into my hands. I looked down to recognize the quilted tunic the Blades wore beneath their cuirasses.

“Tomorrow’s your birthday,” Caroline’s eyes became watery. “Jena would have wanted you to have this.”

I shook out the folds and held the tunic up by its shoulders. My breath stopped at the subtle glory of the Dragon, embroidered in white silk and fine detail across the linen front. I recognized the warm tingle of frost shield magic in its fabric. Jena’s promise whispered in my ear as I gave up my struggle to keep the tears back.

Caroline reached up to wipe my tears away. “It’s time, Julian,” she said softly. Silently I nodded and handed the tunic back to her.

With the help of both Caroline and Ferrum, it took a short time to don my full Blades kit. The tunic lay soft against my skin, and the white flames of the Dragon’s breath warmed my heart. The Dragonscale armor rested easily on my frame, with no pinching or looseness. The full quality of Ferrum’s work became evident after a few practice movements from the Sunbird Dance. The armor, though solid in weight, moved with my body much like chain mail, with none of the constriction I had experienced with Legion plate.

Ferrum clapped my shoulder as Caroline buckled Akatosh’s Touch around my waist. “You truly look like the Emperor’s Champion!” His gaze grew pensive. “I wish I was coming with you, Julian. But I must stay behind and act in Captain Steffan’s stead until he recovers.”

“And because he’s acting commander of Cloud Ruler Temple,” Caroline added waspishly, her brown eyes sparkling, “I have to stay behind to make sure he doesn’t fetch up!”

you’ve come far since the sick addict that walked into Weynon Priory and handed over the Amulet of Kings more than three months ago.
Has it only been 3 months? It seems like years have passed. Well, maybe in the writing! Still, in all seriousness this one line encapsulates the tremendous development that Julian has undergone since the beginning of your tale.

So it took Jauffre officially transferring Julian to the Dragonguard to get her into a Blades cuirass. It is about time! The addition of the Kvatch Wolf was an excellent touch. So were the insignia's of the other cities. That was a very touching scene between Julian, Caroline, and Ferrum as Julian donned her new armor. And an equally poignant memory of Jena as Julian accepted her new tunic.

Soon we will be off to the Imperial City then. And to destiny.

But I must stay behind and act in Captain Steffan’s stead until he recovers. - at least someone has confidence that Steffan's coming out of this. I hope Julian noticed.

Dragonscale armor? Is that what we know as the Blades armor, or a step up for the Dragonguard? Obviously Julian's is bit extra-special, but is that on top of a higher base?

Thanks for a wonderful hot breakfast!

Julian has certainly got her septims’ worth in mileage out of that Kvatch cuirass but wow! A snazzy new set of armor and beautiful tunic for underneath. I really like the look of the Blades armor. How neat to include each of the cities. I wonder how she'll react if she ever earns a set of Imperial Dragon Armor?

“And because he’s acting commander of Cloud Ruler Temple,” Caroline added waspishly, her brown eyes sparkling, “I have to stay behind to make sure he doesn’t fetch up!”
What a delightful finish to such a poignant episode!

That was an interesting exchange between Jauffre and Julian, especially on the heels of the previous discussion of the differences between Blades and Legion. Now she has another life that she might want to choose (Anvil, Mages Guild), and while Jauffre makes joining the Dragonguard an order, he calls it a temporary reassignment. I enjoyed seeing the Grandmaster at work.

Julian’s new Dragonscale armor sounds magnificent! I drooled over every detail, and Jena’s lovingly made tunic brought a walnut to the throat.

Caroline’s line was the perfect ending, and I’m delighted that Captain Steffan has been kicked out of bed and into command.

I guess it’s time to saddle up!

Yeah, you and me both girl... ...

That armour in the last part sounds awesome!!... ...

Wow...All caught up now...Absolutely amazing stuff...Brilliantly done...

Hope your ills retreat soon, so that you may continue/finish/start more...

Nice one!!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...

Welp. It's been a long time since I last updated this story. Julian's been quiet, and I've been preoccupied with RL. Things have eased up a bit, and I've returned to playing Oblivion once again. That has helped get the well of inspiration going, and Julian is speaking once again.

@Sage Rose: Thank you for your comments on the passage of time, both in-story and in RL. It's now been three years since I started writing this story, and both Julian and I are anxious to finish it. The armor is quite a beaut, isn't it? Wish I had a screenie of it, but as of yet I haven't made the time to create the mod for it. I'm glad my description came across.

@ghastley: It's true, not everyone shares Julian's fear of Steffan's despair. This is where we see why Jauffre is so insistent that every Blade have a second profession - preferably one that doesn't require full combat fitness. As for Julian's armor, it is the basic Blades armor but customized to fit her like mail. You may recall when she first looked at it, she could barely hold the standard cuirass up. Now it sits on her like a good leather set. I wanted to show our readers how far her strength has come since the story started.

@Acadian: I'm glad you enjoyed the description of the Dragonscale armor. I wanted to show how much the Blades of Cloud Ruler Temple love and respect their newest sister, and this was the way they chose to demonstrate their feelings about Julian. You may recall that Ferrum was present when Julian first inspected the armor with Captain Steffan. And that line you quoted, I think, sums up the relationship between Caroline and Ferrum quite succinctly. They are obviously closer since the ordeal that was the Plain of Caribou. As for Julian's reaction to the Imperial Dragon Armor, I think you will find out when we get to that point!

@Grits: Yes, Jauffre is beginning to show signs that he is looking beyond lighting the Dragonfires. He is beginning to visualize the shape of the Blades in the near future, and share his vision with both Baurus and Julian. Time to saddle up, indeed!

@McB: Thanks as always for your wholehearted endorsement of Julian's story, and especially her interactions with her fellow Blades.

The story so far: Now a member of Captain Baurus's Dragonguard, Julian must accompany Martin Septim to the Imperial City to see him relight the Dragonfires. Yes, this is the final episode of the Main Quest, and maybe the most heartbreaking.

****************************
Chapter 33.2 The Dragon’s Procession

The last shadows of the night retreated from the Silver Road as we gathered before the East Gate of Bruma. Blowing snow sparkled in the brilliant winter sun and whipped the crimson cloaks of Legio Six into bloody streaks across the white landscape. Above their helmeted heads, the draco standards whistled and snapped their impatience to be off.

Camillus spurred his raw-boned bay forward as we passed the Wildeye Stables. Nonius and Petrine paused in their grooming of the big Skyrim Paints to wave at Martin Septim. As he returned their greeting, I caught the smile in his profile.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t stop to talk to every wayfarer on the road,” Baurus muttered to me. He and I rode side by side behind the Emperor, the Dragonguard Captain mounted on a nondescript bay loaned from Legio Six. The horse had lost his rider on the Plain of Caribou, but had escaped relatively unscathed. Dunore and Ertius likewise rode similar mounts. The Legion horses’ smooth gaits made them suitable choices for these inexperienced riders.

The Plain of Caribou drew my gaze yet again. I knew no mortal remained on that field. Not a people to let unexpected bounty go to waste, the townspeople of Bruma had butchered the elk which had died on the Plain. Much of the meat ended up at Cloud Ruler Temple, where smokers burned nonstop. Bruma’s own meatshops also worked to preserve the rest in salt, smoke and drying chambers before it spoiled. Countess Carvain had already promised to send a large portion of it on to Kvatch, out of gratitude for the heavy sacrifice of the Wolf guards.

At the western edge of the Plain, near the wrecked barricades, funeral pyres burned with our dead. With the ground frozen hard, the decision was made to cremate those who had paid the ultimate price. Each pyre took bodies from a single town, and the resulting ashes were to be gathered into a communal urn to be carried back home by the survivors. The Bruma casualties had their own pyre outside the North Gate, while the ashes of our fallen Blades still smoked on the practice sands of Cloud Ruler Temple.

The grizzly bear and the wolves were also cremated, their ashes cooling before the remains of the siege engine. Burd had commented to me that they deserved their own memorial, but one of the townspeople, Edla Darkheart, suggested that because they had been sent by Kyne, they should be returned to her. Once their ashes were cooled enough to handle, the wild animals would find themselves scattered about the rim of the Plain, to guard against any daedra souls that still lingered on the Plain of Caribou.

As for the daedra and dremora, they too burned. Their remains were cut up and tossed onto the atronach fires, further feeding the flames. A thick pall of greasy smoke still hung over the field, but much of the work was done. When spring came, I had learned, the priests of Talos would bless the field and hopefully reverse the ill spell of the Deadlands. Privately I felt that Kyne would be better suited to restore the land after such devastation. But with no chapel and no priests of her own, how could we call on her for her blessing?

Blanco brought my thoughts back to the present as he snorted and tossed his head against the reins. I patted him fondly on his arched neck and turned my gaze forward, where Martin, on gentle Jasmine, rode between General Camillus and Grandmaster Jauffre. The mountainous Nord dwarfed the Emperor-to-be, yet Martin, resplendent in Tiber Septim’s cuirass, drew the bulk of the attention from the citizens of Bruma gathered outside the East Gate. Unlike the other two, Grandmaster Jauffre had resumed his black monk’s robe, though he still carried the dai-katana at his back.

With the yellow surcoats of the Bruma Guard behind her, Countess Carvain stepped before Martin. “Hail, Emperor of Cyrodiil!” Her contralto greeting rang clear in the cold air. As her people’s voices joined in waves of assent, she swept her fur-lined cloak behind her and knelt, all elegance and grace.

Jasmine stopped before the Countess, and Martin bent down to the woman in acknowledgement. “I am not yet Emperor,” he spoke softly, yet his voice rolled over the gathered assembly. “But I am grateful for your support and your faith. Bruma’s loyalty will not be forgotten!”

“You became our Emperor out there on the Field of Caribou,” Carvain straightened up, her clear gaze steady on Martin’s. “We need no further proof than that, Sire.” Her left arm waved toward the smoking ruins of the Gates. Jasmine stood stock still as Martin held his hand out to Carvain. She laid her right hand in his in the clasp of noble to noble. “I will follow you, Sire, in a couple of days. As a member of the Elder Council, I promise to be there to witness you light the Dragonfires.”

“I look forward to seeing you again, Countess.” Martin straightened up and lifted his face to the gathered Bruma people behind Carvain. “And I will serve all of you as Emperor, as I have served you on the battlefield here.”

This time the voices of Bruma rose in a roar that broke around the grey stones of the town walls like the surf on the cliffs outside Anvil. Baurus glanced at me as we listened to the sound. “They love him now,” the new Captain of the Dragonguard remarked softly, “but will they do so a year from now?”

“We will see,” I answered. “I think they will always love him, so long as they live to remember that,” I jerked my head toward the Plain. I looked back in time to see Martin nudge Jasmine onto the Silver Road. We followed, falling in behind the Septim. Both Dunore and Ertius took up their positions at Jauffre's right. With Camillus’s bulk on Martin’s left and the Legio Six outriders taking up the rest of the guard circle, we did not have to stretch the understrength Dragonguard so thin.

Grandmaster Jauffre, Captain Baurus and I had met with Camillus last night to plan the march down to the Imperial City. “It took us two days to come up to Bruma,” Camillus rumbled softly as we leaned over the map between us. “It will take us two days, if not longer, what with our wounded.”

“Leave them here,” I met his gaze. “Between Cirroc in the chapel and Selena Orania in the Mages Guild, your wounded will make a full recovery in no time. They can rejoin you as they can.”

“I have no wish to put further strain on Bruma’s resources,” Camillus shook his head. “They’ve already supported the equivalent of a second garrison here for over a month.”

“Lighten your pack train, then, sir,” Baurus tapped the map for emphasis. “Let them stay with your wounded, share the Legion resources with Bruma until your casualties are able to travel. Have your riders carry with them only what they need for the day.”

Camillus crossed his arms over his immense chest and cupped his bearded chin in one hand. His thoughtful gaze remained thoughtful on the map. “Only if the Countess and her Captain are amenable,” he rumbled finally. “I have to admit that I do like your suggestion, Captain Baurus.” He considered the idea a moment longer. “I am aware that time is critical here,” he continued. “This damned Crisis isn’t over until those Dragonfires are lit, and only Martin Septim can perform this ritual. The sooner he does this, the sooner we can all relax and get on with our lives.”

“We will send a messenger ahead to notify Ocato,” Jauffre added. I shot him a glance. Who? Can’t spare any of the Dragonguard!

“No,” Camillus shook his head. “Let me do that. I need to send a report to Phillida. My messenger may as well report to Ocato, as well. I will send my most trusted man to carry both messages.”

As he had promised, Camillus’s man had raced down the Silver Road before Baurus, Jauffre and I had mounted our horses for the ride back to Cloud Ruler Temple. Likely he was making his report to Ocato and Phillida at this very moment.

“Thinking about Captain Steffan?” The clopping of the horses’ feet on the icy cobblestones nearly obscured Baurus’s unexpected question. I kept my gaze forward and swallowed nervously. Not you too, Baurus. Don’t think less of me - “He’s a good man, Julian.” His next words were unexpected. “And I think he cares about you, too.”

In spite of my struggle for self-control, I shot a glance at Baurus, but his face was turned forward. I swallowed the grief in my throat. “It’s hard not to,” I said finally. Think of him, or care about him, I added silently.

“You’ll have to stay focused on the Emperor’s safety,” Baurus’s tone remained soft, but I could sense the implacability that now served him well as Captain. He slid a sidelong glance at me. “But it won’t be easy.”

“I’ll do it,” I tried to match that bedrock in Baurus’s voice.

“Do it.” It was a command. “If you feel the way about Captain Steffan the way I think you do, you will not want to let him down.”

“Yes, sir.” There’s a lot of people I don’t want to let down, I mused to myself.

“So you decided to leave Sai at Cloud Ruler Temple?” Baurus commented as we rounded the hairpin turn at the bottom of the slope.

“He has become quite devoted to Captain Steffan,” I breathed deeply in relief at the change of subject. “I think he will be of more use there than he would with us.” I shrugged beneath the blue cloak of the Dragonguard. “He is still not too comfortable around so many Legion soldiers.”

“Captain Steffan needs that kind of loyalty right now,” Baurus nodded. “He may respond first to Sai before any of us.”

Jauffre reined Red back alongside us. “I agree,” he murmured. Surprised, we glanced at him. “I may be old,” he growled in mock disgruntlement, “but my hearing is still sharp as ever!” His eyes glinted at us. “Not only will Sai help bring the good Captain’s spirits back, but he will also provide some entertainment for those we have left behind.”

My thoughts turned to the big Nord still laying in the Chapel priest’s cell. “If only Roliand would wake up,” I murmured to myself. “Or pass on. Lingering like this can’t be good for his spirit.”

Baurus and Jauffre were silent for a few moments. Jauffre sighed finally. “We can only wait,” he said finally. “It is up to Talos, not us.” He slapped Red’s neck when the stallion pinned his ears at Blanco and tried to snap at the white horse. “Shush, boy,” he growled. “No competing in the middle of winter!” Blanco blew a derisive snort as if agreeing with the Grandmaster, but otherwise did not alter his sedate amble.

This is a Sunday treat indeed. Will have more to say later- besides "WELCOME back, Julian!"



And just that quickly, you again draw us into the world of Cyrodiil, allowing us to experience it as Julian does.

Magnificent.

Welcome back!

A cold and pensive trip south toward The Imperial City after some beautifully fitting observations and poignant farewells to Bruma for the time being. I was reaching for my furs and a cape to ward the blowing snow!

Camillus is quite right to be on edge until those pesky dragonfires once again burn brightly.

Baurus’ concern for Julian is touching but unwarranted. Whatever is required, she will rise to the requirement.

Yaay! It is good to see Julian of Anvil back in action.

Your first paragraph was a wonder of brilliant description, really setting the scene for what follows.

Once their ashes were cooled enough to handle, the wild animals would find themselves scattered about the rim of the Plain, to guard against any daedra souls that still lingered on the Plain of Caribou.
This was a wonderful thought.

Continuing smoothly as if you hadn't been interrupted by RL.

I like the way your battles are planned in advance, and their consequences and cleanup continue after they happen. The aftermath normally lasts much longer than the event itself, and you capture that well. In particular, the fact that the effects can last longer than the memory of what happened.

Excellent stuff!!...

Brilliant to see you both back!!... ...

Beautiful writing, as ever...

Looking forward to this endgame...Should be a blast!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Oh, your opening paragraph is magnificent. *blissful sigh*

“I look forward to seeing you again, Countess.” Martin straightened up and lifted his face to the gathered Bruma people behind Carvain. “And I will serve all of you as Emperor, as I have served you on the battlefield here.”

I love the way Martin speaks of serving as Emperor rather than ruling.

How wonderful to have you and Julian back!

Thanks to all of you who have posted - it is good to be back.

@treydoggie: Thanks! It seems that the paragraph you quoted struck quite a few others too. I'm glad to see that you are sucked back into the story so easily. And thanks for the butt-wagging welcome! It brought a smile to our faces as it always does!

@Acadian: Thank you for your confidence in Julian's ability to see the job done. She still doubts herself because the shame of those four years of addiction is still too strong. She is constantly comparing herself to her former self as pilus prior of the Ninth Cohort, while she fails to see how she has grown beyond that role. The others, especially her former commander Camillus can see it, but Julian remains blind to it.

@Sage Rose: That scene you pointed out was actually written at the same time as the Battle of Bruma itself. I was waiting for the right place to put it, and this episode was perfect as the final assessment of the cost of the battle, this time on the environment itself. I rather thought you would like those sections very much. I wanted to show that even the animals play a role in our environment.

@ghastley: Any student of history knows that the aftermath takes longer to deal with than the actual event itself. I'm glad you popped in to read the update and I'm happy to know that you feel it is still worth reading.

@McB: Thanks for your vote! I don't know about the endgame being a blast, but it is fast-paced. I admit that while I typically write my stories in chronological fashion, I actually wrote the endgame before resuming my posting this time around. I have a few more sections to fill in between now and then, but having the endgame already written makes it easier for me to write the final stretch. So I'm hoping it won't be a letdown after all the buildup to it.

@Grits: I'm glad you called out Martin's statement about serving as Emperor. He wasn't raised in an atmosphere of privilege like his father or half-brothers, but rather in one of service (not necessarily the same as servitude). Being a priest of Akatosh until just recently, Martin is stuck in that mindset, and can not see the role of Emperor as being other than the servant of the Cyrodiilic Empire. I'm absolutely delighted that you picked up on that.

The story so far: With the Battle of Bruma behind them, Martin Septim, Julian, Grandmaster Jauffre and Baurus set off for the Imperial City. They are accompanied by Dunore and Ertius, the latest additions to the reconstituted Dragonguard, and by the cavalry cohort of Legio Six, Julian's former legion.

******************************

Chapter 33.3 Return to Aelwin’s Hospitality

“O my!” Aelwin Merowald met us at the gate to his small corral. “It’s Julian! With an entire Legion at her back!” He squinted up at us through the rain. “Brother Martin?” he asked, his bemused gaze settling on Jasmine’s rider, Tiber Septim’s armor shimmering in the rain.

“Not Brother Martin anymore, Merowald,” I dismounted from Blanco. “He is Martin Septim, and he is here to relight the Dragonfires and end this Crisis.”

“No!” Merowald’s eyes grew saucer-sized. He turned toward Martin as the former priest vaulted from Jasmine in a swirl of his purple cloak. As Martin Septim turned to face Aelwin, the Breton fisherman recalled his place and dropped to his knees. “Forgive this ignorant fool, Sire --”

“What is there to forgive, Aelwin?” Martin’s tone held nothing but warmth, welcome in this cold winter rain. “When we last met, I was but a priest of Akatosh fleeing destruction.” He reached down and gripped Merowald’s thin shoulder, helping the old man back to his feet.

“Sire!” Merowald would not meet Martin’s gaze. “I should 'ave guessed that the son of Uriel that took the battlefield outside Bruma would ‘ave been ye - !”

Martin Septim shook his head with a smile. “It did not become common knowledge until then,” he murmured. “And now I am here with a request for you.”

Merowald’s pale eyes shot up to Martin’s face. “A request?” He moved to kneel again, but Martin’s hand on his shoulder kept him on his feet. “Anything, Sire!”

“I know your corral is small, Merowald,” Martin nodded toward the gate. “But I would ask that you put up my horse and those of my Dragonguard. The Legion riders will help you with the stallions.” He smiled at Merowald’s stunned expression. “And I will see you well recompensed for their care.”

“Don’t ye worry about recompense, Sire!” Merowald found his voice. “Of course your ‘orses are always welcome!”

Martin released Merowald’s shoulder with a final squeeze. He glanced up at the gloomy sky overhead. “It looks like the rain will ease up in a bit.” His hazel eyes moved toward City Isle, barely visible in the rain beyond the arches of the Great Bridge. “Once I pass through those gates, I will have no more peace in my days.” He turned toward Merowald. “I never forgot the hospitality you showed Julian and me when we last passed this way. I would like to rest here a while before we move on.”

Merowald gulped a little as his gaze moved over the company obscuring the road in front of his humble home. Martin smiled at him and clapped his shoulder. “Just myself, Julian, Captain Baurus,” he indicated the impassive Redguard, “and my advisor Brother Jauffre.”

Relief warred with anxiety over Merowald’s face. Jauffre stepped forward and bowed slightly to the aged Breton, his hands together in front of his chest in greeting. “Goodman Aelwin,” his gentle tone seemed to settle the other, “I have experience in feeding unexpected guests. Perhaps we can let them sit by your fire and dry their cloaks while you and I prepare a simple repast for them?”

“Nay!” Merowald shook his head. “No guests of mine shall do work in my ‘ouse!”

Jauffre’s smile widened as Baurus and I exchanged glances. How often does Jauffre get told ‘nay’? Especially by a poor retired fisherman? “Don’t consider me a guest, then, Aelwin,” Jauffre’s tone remained soft. “Consider me a Brother of Talos, sworn to help others where ever the opportunity presents itself. Dare you keep me from following my duties?”

Merowald’s gaze drifted to me, consternation clear in his expression. I smiled gently at him. “These people have traveled far, Merowald,” I said. “You can keep them out in the rain arguing about who does what, or let them into your house and accept any help that is offered. They do not wish to burden you, but they would appreciate a rest before traveling that steep road to the City.” I moved to gather the horses’ reins from the others. “I’ll settle the horses in your corral while you rustle something hot - with Brother Jauffre’s help.” I winked at him. “Tis not every day you get to host the Emperor in your own home!”

Merowald swallowed hard again, anxiety still warring in his face. Dunore stepped forward from his outrider position. “Goodman,” he addressed the old Breton, “if you are short on victuals, please let me know what you need and I will step across to the Weye Inn and purchase the needed supplies.”

Apparently that eased the last of Merowald’s concerns, for his face eased into the broadest grin I had ever seen. “Of course! Come in, Sire, come in and make yourself comfortable by the fire! Ye too, Captain -”

“Baurus,” the Redguard’s grin gleamed through the pouring rain as he removed his helm and nodded. “I will go first, Sire, if you will just wait briefly.”

“Of course, Captain,” Martin drew his imperial purple cloak closer around him, covering the resplendent armor of Tiber Septim. He turned to Merowald. “And good Aelwin, you must tell me the latest news here. I have been isolated from Cyrodiil for much too long.”

It took Baurus less time to clear the cottage than it did for me to bring the horses into the corral. I led Jasmine, Blanco and Baurus’s bay, Juniper. Ertius followed with Red, his own mount Ruby and Dunore’s horse Baracoa. With a couple of the Mo Gu archers helping, we set up a stake line across the little corral. The two stallions were tied in opposite corners along the line, as far from each other as the fence would allow. Jasmine, with her longstanding relationship with Red, was placed next to him. The boisterous stallion was ecstatic to have her beside him, even though she still pinned her ears and snaked her head at him. Ruby, the other mare, seemed happy to exchange whickers with Blanco, though she too showed no interest in more romantic overtures. Both geldings, Juniper and Baracoa, contentedly took up the center positions beneath the spreading oak tree, now bare of its leaves.

The Mo Gu archers claimed the horses’ tack and brought it under cover alongside their own, and provided rainsheets to keep the horses dry. They promised to see that the horses were fed and watered, and chased us toward Merowald’s cottage.

As I entered the small dwelling, I paused to shake the rain off my dark blue cloak. I missed the plain brown wool cloak that was undeniably warmer than the Dragonguard blue. It was rolled up in my saddlebag with the rest of my gear. Captain Baurus had advised me to pack some civilian clothes as well as spare tunics and socks.

Merowald left his cooking fire and bustled up to me to take the cloak. “I’ll ‘ang it up to dry!” He exclaimed over my drenched armor. “Good thing ye’ve kept it oiled, or it’ll rust! Terrible rain, this time of year!”

“At least it’s not snowing,” I remarked with a smile as I let him lead me to a chair next to Baurus. He looked up from the oiling of his katana as I sat down.

“Yet,” Merowald shook his finger at me and returned to the wooden table where Jauffre attacked a large onion. “Keep your head up, Brother,” he admonished the taller Breton. “Th’ onions won’t make ye weep so much.”

I thought again about the conversation we had our last night at Cloud Ruler Temple. Jauffre had reminded us that he was known as Grandmaster only to a few people outside the Blades. In public, he was only Brother Jauffre, and would dress once again as a monk of the Order of Talos.

“But all of Bruma knows you as the Grandmaster!” I exclaimed. “And after your performance on the Plain of Caribou, so do the guardsmen of other cities!”

“But I’m not as distinctive in appearance as a white-haired Redguard woman,” Jauffre shook his finger at me. “Out of armor, I’m just another old Breton. They won’t look twice at me dressed as a monk. Not when they’ve got this peacock -” he jerked his thumb at Baurus, who scowled at the implication, “- standing next to me.” Jauffre grinned more widely at the Redguard’s discomfort. “And people will be looking at the Emperor, not me!”

“But once things settle down, and the Dragonfires are lit, what then?” I asked. “You can hide in those monk’s robes only so long. People will notice how the Dragonguard defers to you and begin to wonder.”

Jauffre shook his head. “Once the Dragonfires are lit and the damned Crisis is ended, I intend to go back to Weynon Priory and resume my duties there as Brother Jauffre. The Blades will have a new Grandmaster.”

Now both Baurus and I stared at him. A new Grandmaster? “Who?” I wondered aloud.

Baurus seemed more disconcerted than I at the look Jauffre sent us. “I’m still getting used to being Captain of the Dragonguard, sir!”

“And Captain of the Dragonguard you shall remain,” Jauffre assured him, his gaze on me. I gasped.

“Me?” I shook my head fiercely. “How can I lead something I know so little about?”

“Nor you, Julian,” he smiled sadly. “Your destiny takes you elsewhere.” He tapped the side of his nose with a callused finger. “But I do have a few candidates in mind. So worry no more! The Blades will still be in good hands!”

Truly excellent!!... ...

I loved this stop off at the fisherman's cottage... ...

The whole of the piece was amazing, but I absolutely loved Jauffre in it...Fantastic character, massively underused in the game...It's been brilliant reading him here...

Looking forward to whatever you have planned...

And retroactively filling in the gaps is part of the fun!!!... ...

Loved it!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

What a delightful reunion with Aelwin! I’m so glad Martin decided to stable the horses with him rather than with ‘Orca Snack Grabber’ up at the Chestnut Handy.

I loved the craftiness of robed ‘Brother Jauffre’ here as he worked to put Aelwin at ease hosting the Emperor-in-waiting and his armored blades.

And Baurus was no slouch here either, checking Aelwin’s house first for any potential Mythic Dawnsters or other threats – nice touch.

So Brother Jauffre plans to return to his monkiness at Weynon and appoint a new Grandmaster. We ruled out Baurus and Julian so a little mystery it shall be. Does a Grandmaster need both hands, I wonder.

“Once I pass through those gates, I will have no more peace in my days.”
A prophetic statement, sadly, in more ways that one.

It was interesting to view Brother Jauffre here from a different perspective, in his cover as an ordinary monk, rather than the Grandmaster that we are so accustomed to seeing him as.

And it seems a new Grandmaster is in the offering? My money is on Captain Steffan.

Jauffre has a good point. The common folk will see the uniform, not the man inside. Especially of that period, where it was for display, not camouflage, because you wanted your own side to know where you were. Doesn't stop the friendly fire in the game, of course.

I like the way you (and SubRosa) expand the size of everything to proper proportions. In the game, it's just you, Jauffre, and Martin travelling to the city. And that would be a crowd in Weye!

I'm not betting on Steffan, until he's got out of his funk. After that, he's got what it takes.

@McB: Aelwin has been waiting patiently for Julian and Brother Martin to return. Only now he gets the Emperor in 'is 'ouse! I felt it was appropriate, considering his hospitality when they were walking to Weynon Priory and the beginning of a tremendous transition for Martin Septim, that our returning hero and the heir stop to enjoy his company once more before Martin Septim becomes the next Emperor. I am glad you enjoyed visiting with Aelwin again as well.

@Acadian: Yes, our crafty Grandmaster (someone once compared him to a spider in a web) is already thinking ahead. He is quite the chessplayer and we only begin to see the merest hint of his skills. I also wanted to show Baurus making the most of his second chance as Dragonguard. He will not fail this time. His determination and serious regard of his heavy responsibility is logical considering what happened on his watch just a few months ago.

@SubRosa: Yes, I know that statement of Martin's is blatant foreshadowing, but I figured, what the heck. Most if not all of my readers know how things end for him. As a matter of fact, the characters in this story are the last to know! I wanted to show Martin mentally gearing himself for the marathon that is Imperial rule. He has to stop thinking like a priest and start thinking as an Emperor. It will not be easy for him, and he is aware of that. So you are rooting for Cap'n Steff to be the next Grandmaster? I'm still on the fence about the whole Grandmaster business - I mean, what happens to the Blades after the last of the Dragonblood is gone? What is their purpose then? Who are they going to serve? And how will this affect their organization? Those are questions I've been asking myself ever since I started writing this story. I don't have all the answers yet, but I'm slowly moving toward a vision of the future.

@ghastley: I agree, Steffan needs to snap out of it before he can be considered leadership material. But not to worry, he will! Snap out of it, I mean. But Grandmaster? Not sure yet. As for making things bigger than they are in the game, I have SubRosa to thank for that. She is responsible for getting me to shed the limitations of the game and to stretch my wings literally and figuratively in imaging this story and daring to depart from what I saw and experienced in the game.

The story so far: Our Imperial party has stopped in Weye for a little respite. Martin Septim and his escort have managed to talk 'umble little Aelwin into 'osting them for a wayfarer's meal and putting up their 'orses. Now it's time to eat (and feed Acadian!)

************************
Chapter 33.4 A Warm Respite

The aged Breton, with Jauffre’s help, managed to throw together a hearty meal of roasted vegetables, grilled slaughterfish and sliced apples marinated in spiced cider. He provided me with a glass of the leftover cider, and offered the others hot mulled wine.

Along with the meal, Merowald filled us in on the local gossip. “That Captain Lex is still goin’ on about the Grey Fox,” he remarked. “Insists there is such a thing as a Thieves’ Guild! But ‘ow can a bunch of onery, independent operators form anything like a guild? Tell me that!”

Jauffre slid me a wry glance. “They said something like that about the mages centuries ago,” he remarked casually from behind his pewter beaker.

“And look at them now!” Aelwin nodded as if it proved his point. “‘alf of them left when Arch Mage Traven banned the practice of necromancy. Though it’s still legal in Cyrodiil.” He shook his head. “Don’t understand why anyone would want to mess with dead bodies. Dead is dead, if ye ask me!”

Until you meet a zombie in a dark and damp dungeon, I mused silently to myself. Then you begin to wonder about the difference between life and death. If you survive the encounter.

“And then there’s the uproar in the Market District over that new merchant,” Aelwin continued. “I always go to see Jensine at Good as New for my essentials.” He shook his head. “She’s complaining about the cut-rate prices from that new guy.”

“Really?” Martin had said little throughout the meal, but his gaze remained interested in Merowald’s chatter. “How low is he pricing?”

“Really low, to ‘ear Jensine tell it,” Merowald responded. When Martin refused the refill he offered, he set the wine pitcher on the table. “She’s saying ‘e’ll put ‘er out of business!”

I slid a glance at Martin Septim. Are you thinking of what you need to do after the Dragonfires are lit? Let the Watch investigate these matters. You have the entire Empire to worry about!

A knock at the door interrupted Merowald’s tale of disgruntled merchants. “Sire?” Camillus’s muted thunder rumbled through the wooden panels. “It’s the Inspector General. The rain’s lightened up.”

“Come in,” Martin set his beaker down and rose to his feet. Merowald opened the door and stepped back to let the immense Legion general into his tiny dwelling.

“Sire,” Camillus saluted Martin. “It’s getting cold, and late. Best be in the City before the road gets icy.”

“I’ll get the horses saddled up,” I moved toward the door, but Martin shook his head.

“I am not yet Emperor,” his tone held implacability. “I will walk into the City like everyone else. Leave the horses with Aelwin a while longer.” He smiled at the old man. “I know how you enjoy their company.”

“But it’s getting late, Sire,” Camillus protested. “And it’s not proper --!”

“It’s not proper to presume before things are confirmed,” Martin responded, cutting off the objections from Baurus and Jauffre before they could speak. “Just because I wear the Amulet of Kings does not make me Emperor. Only by lighting the Dragonfires can I claim the Ruby Throne and take my place as Emperor Uriel’s heir.”

Baurus looked clearly unhappy at the thought of keeping the citizens away from a potential target on foot. I moved to his side and leaned to his ear. “He’ll be a harder target for a sniper,” I whispered. “And he’ll stand out less if he’s not mounted.”

Baurus’s lips tightened and he nodded reluctantly. “Let’s get Dunore and Ertius ahead to scout the way to the Tiber Septim Hotel.” I acknowledged his command and stepped outside to find the others. Dunore, standing beneath the dripping eaves, turned as I paused to get my bearings.

“Ertius is walking the perimeter, ma’am,” he saluted me in greeting. “Looks like it will turn icy later on.”

I had to agree. My breath soughed visibly in the misty air, and I could feel tiny pellets striking my bare cheeks. I drew the now-dry cloak closer around me and pulled my hood up over my bare head.

“Dunore, Baurus wants you and Ertius to go ahead and scout out the road to the Tiber Septim Hotel. The Watchmen should be expecting you by now. Check for potential snipers. Wait inside the gates unless you notice something off.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Dunore nodded as Ertius appeared around the northeastern corner of the cottage. He signaled the other to fall in with him and stepped toward the road. As if at a sudden thought, he turned back to me. “The Emperor is walking?”

“Yes, Dunore,” I nodded. “Until he has lighted the Dragonfires and is formally acknowledged as Emperor, Martin Septim will travel within the City on foot, like everyone else.”

“Understood,” Dunore nodded emphatically. Together he and Ertius exited Merowald’s garden, now brown with winter frost, and headed off into the mist.

I returned to the warmth of the cottage and nodded at Baurus. He plucked his cloak from its peg beside the fire and swung it over his shoulders, careful to clear the hilt of the katana at his left hip. “Inspector General Camillus will accompany us to the Tiber Septim Hotel,” he advised me. “Once we’re settled in, he will go on and report our arrival to High Chancellor Ocato and to the primus legate Phillida.”

Camillus joined us. “Then Ocato will likely come to the Hotel to meet Martin Septim and discuss the next stage.” He shook his head. “I would rather escort Uriel’s son directly to the White Gold Tower and have him take the Throne immediately, but proper protocol must be observed!” His mustache fluttered with his derisive snort.

“Proper protocol?” I repeated. Camillus nodded.

“Martin Septim says that the Elder Council must be present when he lights the Dragonfires. Until they are gathered, he will not step foot inside the Palace.”

I sighed. So close! But we have to wait, just like in the Legion. “Hurry up and wait, sir?” I commented softly to the big mountain next to me. His beard rumbled with a deep-throated growl which could be a chuckle.

Martin finished taking his leave of the awe-struck Merowald and approached us with Jauffre. He nodded his readiness at Camillus, who opened the door. As Baurus stepped out, Merowald touched my arm.

“Julian,” he drew me down to his face. “Are ye well?”

I smiled and covered his gnarled hand with mine. “Yes, Merowald.”

He shook his head. “Nay, ye seem sad. More so now than before. Ye lost many good friends up there in Bruma, didn’t ye?”

My breath caught at the reminder. My eyes turned to the clean-swept dirt floor of his cottage. “Yes, we lost many comrades there, Merowald.”

Merowald waited until the others had stepped out. “And is Martin Septim upset with ye about something?” His voice was a whisper. “I noticed ‘e barely spoke to ye.”

I was silent for a moment. I’ve been avoiding him. Or has he been avoiding me too? But as his Dragonguard, I can’t be too familiar with him. My job is to stay objective and keep his safety first, not his friendship. “I’ve been detailed to the Dragonguard. Our job of keeping Martin Septim safe comes first. And I’m on duty right now.”

He considered me a moment longer. I wondered just how much the old man could read in my face, and hoped he saw none of the despair I felt. “Aye, I’ll not keep ye from your proper duty, then. Julian,” he shook my vambrace. “Don’t ye forget about me!”

I smiled. “Never, Merowald. Take good care of the horses. I’ll see you again soon!”

‘...and feed Acadian! ...a hearty meal of roasted vegetables, grilled slaughterfish and sliced apples marinated in spiced cider.’
Oh this sounds marvelicious! Whiskey for my men and beer for my horses! Thanks for continuing this pause in Weye – it was not only fun, but continues to contribute to the underlying magnitude and tension of what lies ahead.

It was wonderful to hear Aelwin’s take on all the IC gossip. A delightfully tongue-in-cheek nod to several familiar rumors and quests.

I’m glad Martin insisted on leaving the horses with Aelwin. Plenty of reasons, and Julian pointed out a good one to Baurus.

A poignant and foreshadowing farewell between Aelwin and Julian.

Onward!

Well, the Blades basically have a dual purpose agenda. Protect the Dragonborn Emperor, and act as a spy organization for him. With no Emperor, I would expect that their first priority would be to locate a new Dragonborn Emperor. With the Amulet of Kings destroyed that will not be easy, as the litmus test of who is Akatosh's chosen is now gone. OTOH, it is not a hereditary thing. After all, Reman was not related to Alessia, and Tiber Septim not related to Reman. Anyone could be the new Emp.

As far as their role as spies goes, it all depends on whether or not the new Grandmaster decides to work for the Elder Council in the absence of the Emperor. I could easily see that go either way. So far as I know, the Blades are personally sworn to the Emperors, not to the State. So they may refuse to serve anyone they do not acknowledge as being worthy of the throne. However, refusing to serve as spies would reduce their relevancy, and force the Elder Council into replacing them with a new spy organization.

In Skyrim's history the Blades did not support the Mede Emperors (the original Titus Mede became Emp with the help of Clavius Vile). The Medes created their own intelligence network called the Penitus Oculatus (which I guess means the Penis Eye... ). OTOH, The Thalmor killed off all but two of the Blades' agents at the beginning of the Great War, which implies that they were still spying, although for who is anyone's guess. Of course you are not beholden to follow the history Bethesda put down. It is your story, you make the calls.

But on to current business! As ever Aelwin keeps us well fed with a tasty meal, then fully up to breast with every rumor floating around!

I see Martin is definitely growing into his role as Emperor-to-be. Walking into the city, refusing to enter White Gold Tower until he is formally acknowledged as Emperor, etc... might be seen as stubbornness by some. But he is obeying the laws and customs of his people, and in so doing showing that he will be an Emperor who will live by those laws and customs. A start contrast to the Mede Emperors who would follow him.

It makes sense to me that an illegitimate son would be extra-careful following protocol to make sure there aren't any technicalities in his way to taking the throne. The game suggests that Ocato has consulted the Elder Council (who mysteriously never occupy all those seats in the Council chamber) so even when Bethsoft kept the cast small, they made that the niceties were observed.

Baurus getting the route scouted ahead of them is a nice touch. I can't remember if it was him, or Glenroy, that does that during the tutorial, but it worked as far as it went, with the final "failure" resulting from a forced detour from the scouted route.

Even with something as simple as competition in the Market District, Martin's showing an ability to see past the superficial. He's immediately aware that something's wrong with the picture, and the Watch need telling that from above.

“O my!” Aelwin Merowald met us at the gate to his small corral. “It’s Julian! With an entire Legion at her back!”
Aelwin’s antics with Jauffre’s calm support were delightful.

I’m hoping that Captain Steffan decides to retire and put his architectural side-interest to use. Grandmaster of the Blades at the start of the Fourth Era sounds like a pretty bad deal to me (though of course they don't know that). Plus if Julian’s destiny takes her elsewhere, it’s probably a long way from CRT.

Then a warm respite indeed. Very nice to catch up on other doings in Cyrodiil.

The new distance between Julian and Martin was interesting. As his Dragonguard she’ll be among those closest to him, but of course her attention is focused more outward rather than on him. That would be a painful change in their relationship.

@Acadian: Yes, it was a delightful break in Weye for our Imperial party. And I admit that I wanted to show the impact Julian has had on the people around her, even if she isn't always aware of it herself. Even the smallest interaction has repercussions. Her kindness to Aelwin in the beginning, when she took it upon herself to collect the scales of twelve Tamriel Barracuda for his retirement fund, has been repaid in spades. Every time I play this game, I always do this quest just because I want to "borrow" that little enclosure next to his house for my horses. And it doesn't feel right unless I do something special for him first. And yes, I'm setting up for some future quests!

@Sage Rose: Thank you for your insight regarding the future of the Blades. It has been very helpful in clarifying where I want to go with this. The future in Julian's TES will unfold according to what has happened in this story, not as what will happen in Skyrim. I haven't even played that game yet, and have no plans to do so in the near future. I am actually waiting until the price for the disc drops to something more reasonable. I know there are plenty of mods out there, and I may find new inspiration. But at this point there is so much richness and variety in TES IV that I feel I haven't plumbed the depths of it yet. And you nailed it when you described Martin as being very aware of the laws and customs of his people in refusing to ride horses within the IC. I visualize IC as being very much like Imperial Rome, with similar customs and traditions. And being a priest, Martin is very conscious of "how things are done."

@ghastley: You have pointed out the other reason for Martin closely observing protocol. As an illegitimate son of potentially many, why would Martin be the one to claim the Ruby Throne? By publicly demonstrating proof of his destiny through lighting the Dragonfires (can anyone think of more convincing proof that he is the Dragonborn?), Martin can settle any grumbles concerning his right to rule. And yes, that line of Ocato's where he says he consulted with the Elder Council was my takeoff point for this attitude of Martin's. And you're right, Martin sees the competition in the Market District as a symptom of a deeper, more fundamental problem. It would be worhtwhile exploring the causes and conditions leading to such a mundane, minor issue.

@Grits: I'm glad you enjoyed seeing Aelwin again. He needed to have a few moments in the spotlight again, especially as he has hosted Julian's mounts so many times already. So you think Steffan should retire and go into architecture? It's true that an architect technically doesn't need two hands - just a quick and intelligent mind. I like to think that Julian's Captain Steffan has that mind. Otherwise why would she be so attracted to him? And you have a gift of prophecy! Julian won't be back to CRT for some time. And you did pick up on the new distance between Julian and Martin. There is more to it than just her new role as his Dragonguard. Romantic movies notwithstanding, a good bodyguard can not become emotionally involved or too friendly with his charge - it can compromise his ability to protect said charge. For this I am using Simon Donovan's approach in the series the West Wing. He was a Secret Service agent assigned to protect Allison Janney's CJ after she received death threats in her email. The attraction between the two never got in the way of his performance of his duties, and made his death all the more tragic. (BTW, that was when I started liking Mark Harmon as an actor - he's not just another pretty face!). But still, there is something else going on there, and I think we will begin to see it before Julian does!

The story so far: After a delightful repast at Aelwin's little cottage, Martin Septim and his entourage head out to the Imperial City. Will they have a quiet entrance as Baurus and Julian hope? Let's find out!

*************************
Chapter 33.5 Arrival

The Watchmen within the gates clattered to attention as Camillus entered the City ahead of Martin Septim. The big Nord’s scarlet cloak swirled as he acknowledged their salutes and paused before the waiting Watch Captain.

“Itius Hayn,” he grumbled. “Report!”

The Imperial crisply saluted the Inspector General. His gaze drifted past Camillus’s bulk momentarily at us, then returned to the Nord. “All’s quiet now, sir,” he said. “We have an escort waiting for Martin Septim.”

Camillus turned and met Captain Baurus’s gaze. I caught the look Baurus cast around the entrance, and followed his glance. At the top of the steps leading to Talos Plaza I could see two Blades standing. Dunore and Ertius. They saluted Baurus and strode down to where we waited.

“All clear, sir,” Dunore reported when they stood before Baurus, at Martin’s right. Jauffre, in his place at the Emperor’s left, nodded slightly, but the new Dragonguard Captain did not notice his approval. From my place behind Martin, I couldn’t see Baurus’s face, but every line of his form radiated total concentration on the task at hand.

Baurus nodded at Camillus, who turned back to Hayn and gestured for the Watch Captain to proceed. The burnished armor glimmered in the sleeting evening light as Hayn turned sharply and gestured for the waiting Watchmen to fall in around us. Without pause to see their prompt response, he marched off toward the Dragon statue.

As we followed, foot traffic came to a standstill. The noise of the Watch armor around us warned people of our approach. As heads turned in our direction and bodies scattered to the sides, a murmur slowly replaced the normal commotion of the City. Individual words and phrases could be heard, but not entire sentences - Dragonguard! The Amulet of Kings? Crisis? No more daedra? Bless the Nine! The Hero of Kvatch! Of Bravil! Bruma! The last few made me wince the first couple of times I heard them. Deal with it, Julian. That’s what you get for not wearing a helm. You’re a Dragonguard now. Focus.

The short walk to the entrance of the Tiber Septim Hotel strained my nerves as the crowd around us grew. They began to press in upon us, squeezing us between the iron armor of the Watchmen. I found myself gripping Touch’s hilt as their plate began brushing against mine. Fortunately before we began mounting the steps to the Plaza, more Watchmen arrived and began pushing the folk back.

Dunore and Ertius moved ahead to the double bronze panels leading within the hotel and paused, each gripping a tall handle. They glanced back at us. I sensed rather than saw Baurus’s nod as we drew near the wide stoop. Smoothly the pair eased the doors inward and entered the hotel. Momentarily they disappeared within its dimness, then Ertius reappeared with a nod of reassurance.

Martin Septim, Camillus and Brother Jauffre entered the hotel, with Baurus and myself on their heels. As Ertius and I closed the bronze panels after ourselves, the murmuring of the crowd outside rose to an amazed, awed and wondering crescendo. Then silence cascaded through the lobby as the heavy doors banged softly together.

My hand dropped from my katana hilt when a quick glance around showed few people about, none armed. Augusta Calidia, the proprietor of the Tiber Septim Hotel, stared at us, her conversation with a guest forgotten. The guest turned around, and I recognized Gwinas. Both sets of eyes widened at the sight of the Amulet of Kings on Martin Septim’s breast.

Calidia laid a beringed hand on her bateau neckline and took a deep, slow breath. Then she stepped forward to the counter. “Wel - welcome to the Tiber Septim Hotel,” her voice, initially unsteady, settled into its usual confident timbre. “How may I help you, gentlemen?” Her gaze passed over me and flickered in brief recognition. “And ma’am?”

I stepped forward. “Martin Septim requests a room here for the next few days,” I put on my most formal manner. “He has traveled far and is in need of rest. A suite would be nice, if you have one available.”

Calidia exchanged glances with Gwinas, whose visage crumbled in dismay. “There is only one suite such as you require, and it is -” she hesitated, her gaze on the Bosmer. I realized that Gwinas occupied the grandest room in the hotel. Somehow I wasn’t surprised. I turned to Baurus and Jauffre.

“Give me a few moments, please, sirs. Perhaps a seat by the fire,” I waved toward one of the massive fireplaces at one end of the lobby, “and a flagon of wine?”

Martin Septim’s hazel gaze flickered at me, then he inclined his head. “Of course, it is a good idea. I’m chilled again!” He moved to the right, where a comfortable seating arrangement invited guests to partake of the fire’s warmth. Camillus and Jauffre followed him without hesitation, but Baurus eyed me thoughtfully. After a moment, he nodded and trailed after the others as well.

I turned back to Calidia and Gwinas. This time Calidia’s expression as she regarded me was less distant, yet more curious. Gwinas’s gaze moved from Martin Septim’s progress across the lobby back to me, taking in my Dragonscale armor.

“Gwinas, am I right in thinking you are now occupying the rooms Calidia spoke of?” I kept my voice gentle to avoid rattling the scholar’s already shaken nerves. He swallowed visibly and nodded. “I hate to do this to you of all people, especially after you’ve been so helpful,” I continued. “If not for your help, that man would not be here today, wearing the Amulet of Kings he inherited from his father.”

Gwinas blinked at me in confusion. I smiled and reached out to his shoulder in a gentle grip. It steadied him, and he managed to breathe. “H- how?” he stammered.

“First, when you gave me that book and the note from the Sponsor,” I kept my tone soft. “And second when we talked about daedric shrines. Someday, after the Dragonfires are lit and that man is seated on the Ruby Throne, I’ll tell you the details.”

The Bosmer’s gaze drifted across the lobby to regard Martin Septim, now seated comfortably before the fire. Camillus dwarfed the easy chair opposite him, and Jauffre leaned forward to pour purple fluid into chased silver goblets on the table between them. Captain Baurus and my two Dragonguard brothers stood at vigilant ease between the seated figures and the rest of the lobby.

“Gwinas,” I drew his attention back to me. “You have a chance to be of invaluable help a third time. Let Martin Septim, the last son of Emperor Uriel Septim, occupy the rooms you have now. I will be happy to help you move your belongings to another room.” I glanced at Calidia. “There may be more arrivals soon, from the provinces as well as the counties of Cyrodiil. I’d like to see you settled before things start to get busy.”

Calidia blanched at my words. I thought I could hear her thoughts. What? But the Elder Council isn’t in session! All of them? Where shall I put everyone? Do I even have enough beds?

“This Martin Septim is indeed the heir to the Throne?” The Bosmer drew my attention back to him. I nodded. “You serve him then?” Again I inclined my head. “Why do you serve him?”

I straightened up and dropped my hand from Gwinas’s shoulder. “In the beginning, I served him because Emperor Uriel asked it of me before he died,” I spoke softly into the silence between us. “Then I began serving him because I know,” I put my right hand over my heart, just above where the Dragon lived in my belly, “I know that this man is our salvation. He has the Dragonblood in him.”

For several long moments we regarded each other silently. Then Gwinas took a shaky breath. His spine straightened as he met my gaze steadily. “No need to help me, Julian,” he said bravely. “I will hire some help to move my things. The King and Queen has very nice rooms that will do me nicely for the time being.” He turned to Calidia and set his hands on the counter decisively. “I would like to settle my bill with you before I leave, Augusta.”

She laid one hand over his and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t worry about it right now. Go gather your things. I’ll send the bill over to you later.” Gwinas opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head firmly. “Later.”

I followed after the small Bosmer as he headed for the stairs just past Martin Septim. I caught up to him just as he reached the Dragonguard. “Just a moment, Gwinas,” I stopped him, then turned to Martin nearby. “Sire, I’d like you to meet someone I’ve told you about before. This is Gwinas, of Valenwood. He has been of assistance to me, and has generously agreed to give up his rooms to you.”

Martin rose to his feet and smiled at the flustered Bosmer. “Of course, I remember you telling me of his aid, Julian. Gwinas, some day soon you will learn just how invaluable you have been to the cause of the Empire. For now, please accept my gratitude.” He put his hands together in front of him and bowed, as a priest of Akatosh bestowing a blessing.

Gwinas gave an excellent presentation of a courtier’s bow as I had seen it performed on stage in mummer’s shows, one foot pointed forward from beneath his red silk robes, one arm crooked in front of his waist and the other arm swept to the side, his torso bent forward and face aimed down. “It is my honor, Sire, to be of assistance, however meager it may be.”

“Not meager at all, Gwinas, not meager at all.” Martin’s gaze gleamed as Gwinas glanced up. “We will speak again soon, I am certain of it.”