@Glargg: Welcome to Chorrol! I'm glad you finally came in from the cold. There are so many good stories here, don't be shy about posting comments or questions! And thanks for enjoying Julian's story!

@Olen: Yes, that was the big challenge in writing this chapter - how to make four consecutive fights different from each other. With D. Foxy's help, I've been able to present each one differently. This third one was actually a lot of fun to write. This little movie was my inspiration for Casnar.

@ghastley: Yes, it was close to that point! But hang in there, k?

@Acadian: Julian was glad for all the fortify potions she bought in Chorrol before leaving town! I believe she used them all up here in Sancre Tor. (in an aside) You did? Okay. (back to the forum) Yes, she did!

@Grits: As ineffective as the Adrenaline Rush is in the game, it wouldn't surprise me if Casnar didn't think to use it but instead relied on his ancient training. Ironically enough, it has been passed down to Julian through her old pilus Jelin.

@Sage Rose: I really wanted to give each Blade his own distinctive flavor that suited each one as we know them in Interregnum. The fact that you recognized Casnar by his fighting style tells me that I've succeeded. I only hope that I've inspired Destri to resume writing!

@Cap'n: I'm really glad you enjoyed catching up. I like stories that entertain, and that's the kind I try to write. The fact that you assure me you had fun tells me I've been successful. And thanks for catching the formatting error on Daedra Slayer.

@mALX: Did you have as much fun in Sancre Tor as I did writing it?

@auggie doggie: Thanks for the wonderful spammage - it's great to get a review of what works in the previous chapters. Yup, girls and horses are like boys and cars. Thanks for the nits - I'll make sure the final draft of this story has 'em all fixed before I send 'em off to you for your Kindle!

@all: Here is the second part of the fight with Casnar. Once again, credit goes to D. Foxy for his expertise and Destri Melarg for his inspiration for these four Blades.

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

Chapter 26.7: The Knight of the Moon

The undead Blade’s side-slash rebounded from my shield as he shifted his sword to smash another overhead strike - or so I thought. Instinctively I shifted my own weapon up for a parry, but instead of a hammering downward blow he smacked my sword with the flat of his blade, and then pushed my katana down and then, still in the same smooth move, swung it around, up in a savage twist - and spun it out of my grip. With only one hand on my sword versus his two, his heavier weapon easily sent my lighter blade flying from my hand across the dim chamber.

With no time to think things through, I took immediate action. Jelin’s hard training kicked in, and I spun the shield at the undead bones’ lower legs, releasing the grip so it flew from my arm sidewise just above the floor. The skeleton leaped upwards, his feet easily clearing the flying metal.

It gave me the break I needed to regain the advantage. I dove right, rolled along the floor, and recovered Daedra Slayer where it rested against the wall. Before the undead Blade could follow after me, I kicked off the stones and launched myself toward my pack, still near the entrance of the chamber. With Daedra Slayer in an underhanded hold, its enchanted blade held along my left forearm, I caught up my katana in the same grip with my right hand.

The skeleton charged me before I had time to reverse my hold on the weapons. Thank you Jelin, for showing me how to fight with upside-down swords. The two blades moved as extensions of my arms as I parried his blows, first a sideways slash to my left side, then a high right attack toward my bleeding right shoulder. Damn you fetcher! Aren’t you getting tired yet?

I crouched beneath the blow, deflecting it long enough to get out from under the strike. Daedra Slayer flared toward his knees. The undead Blade leaped backwards, his dai-katana rising high for an overhead chop. I crossed my weapons, both of my katanas pointing forward, and caught his blade on both of mine. I shoved upwards, pushing up with my knees, then danced to my left, letting his weapon slide away to my right.

With a swiftness undulled by centuries, he returned with another chop toward my head. I raised the katana to parry his heavier weapon, again deflecting it harmlessly to the side. At the same time, I darted Daedra Slayer toward his pelvis. Fire flared as the steel bit into his upper thighbone. I barely managed to break it loose of the bone before he was swinging at me again, his teeth clicking angrily at my hit. One hit for you, one for me. Now we’re even.

Again I parried him with the katana, again I attacked from the left side with Daedra Slayer. He barely deflected the enchanted weapon and spun away from me, dropping to his left knee in a defensive crouch, dai-katana stretched straight-armed behind him. I caught myself from following through when I recognized the Coiled Serpent stance. As I instinctively dropped into the counter Collected Lion pose, nearly sitting on my right heel, my left leg stretched in front of me ready to take my weight in a forward lunge, his eye sockets glared into mine for a long breath. His gaze seemed to follow my blades as I extended my katana behind me in a similar straight-armed position, Daedra Slayer flickering horizontally in a low guard just above my left knee.

The skeleton dipped his head slowly, once, then rose to his feet. His dai-katana lowered until its hilt rested near his right hip, its tip nearly touching the stone floor. I barely had time to flip my swords into a more conventional overhand grip before he charged me, his weapon flashing toward my head. My blades crossed above me of their own volition, again catching his sword and parrying it off to my left. Before he could retrieve his weapon, I stepped forward with my right foot and pivoted my right shoulder into him, shoving him back off balance.

As the undead Blade staggered for the briefest instant, I disengaged my swords from his weapon and swung them back toward him, leading with my katana. He barely managed to parry them and fell back another step. I took advantage of the momentum he imparted to my blades and spun my back to him, then completed the pivot to bring my weapons back into him from my right. Daedra Slayer flared in a metallic scream as it struck his dai katana, and I followed with a rapid strike from my plain katana.

While he sought to bring his greater strength to bear on me, I focused on keeping him moving defensively to counter my double weapons, sweeping first one then the other toward him in high strikes that he easily parried with his two-handed sword. Yet the rapidity of my blows forced him to yield back until he was close to the wall.

And now it is your turn to pay the price for overconfidence. Your technique has become sloppy - you are just a touch more reckless now, which means . . .

When his right elbow struck the unyielding stone, the skeleton resumed the offensive toward me, seeking to avoid being pinned against the high structure. He began matching my slashes with rapid sideways sweeps that flung my swords to either side. Then he stepped forward and brought his dai-katana high in another overhead chop.

The muscles in my chest complained as I snapped my blades back together in time to cross them and parry his chop. This time when I shoved him back, instead of attacking from the outside as I had been doing, I lunged forward with Daedra Slayer leading. The point of the enchanted blade dug deep into the bone of his spine. Before I wrenched Daedra Slayer free, my katana bit into the vertebrae from the other side. His spine cloven into two, the bones scattered before me. The dai-katana struck harmlessly against my left shoulder and slid down my back to the floor in a slither of white magic from Matius’s enchanted mail.

Short of breath, I knelt shakily. Akatosh! That’s the third time I’ve had my behind well and truly tanned by the unexpected! Think I'd have learned by now? I sheathed Daedra Slayer, the act of catching air still an uphill task. As I waited for the next phantom, I struggled to my feet, wincing at the complaints from my knee. It’s going to be Alain. Or Casnar. We’ll see. I held the katana left handed behind my back, ignoring the trickling blood beneath Matius’s mail.

The phantom that shimmered into being was not quite as tall as Valdemar. Actually he was the same height as I. I recognized the proud features of a Ra’Gada man as he met my gaze. His ghostly eyes widened, and he lowered his eyes.

“Who are you? And what brings you here?” His voice was as light as a feather. His accent, so like my mother’s, triggered a twinge in my heart. “And have you found my brothers?” His tone grew pensive. “They were with me here. Rielus fell in the lower chamber. I did not see where Alain or Valdemar went, the fog was too thick. But they were fighting side by side, as always.” He shook himself. “But no, that was the dream, and I’m awake now. I must go and finish my duty to the Emperor.”

“Emperor Tiber Septim died nearly four hundred years ago,” I said softly. “But his descendant has need of your help.”

The Blade regarded the stone wall past my shoulder silently for a long moment. “You serve the Dragonborn?” Now he met my gaze briefly. What is that I hear in his voice? Guilt?

“I serve the descendant of Tiber Septim,” I answered. “Your name is Casnar?” I chose the one name that sounded most Ra’Gada to my untutored ears.

Again Casnar turned his face away from me, his gaze moving over the dismal chamber. “I am he,” he admitted reluctantly. I wondered at his attitude, so unlike those of the Blades I had met so far, including his undead comrades.

“Rielus and Valdemar are waiting in the tombs, before the Shrine. I go to find Alain and send him there.”

“Are you Duneborn, or city-bred?” he asked suddenly. Wondering at his question, I shook my head.

“I was born in Anvil,” I answered. “My mother was from Hammerfell, but I don’t know which town.”

“She never told you about - about - Hammerfell?” His voice faltered on the last word. I stared at him, puzzled by his odd demeanor. Why is he acting guilty toward me?

“She spoke very little of it,” I said finally. “Mostly tales of Cyrus -“ I stopped when Casnar shifted uneasily. My eyes widened at a sudden thought. The Blades were formed when Talos became Emperor. Was Casnar one of the original Blades? If so, he must have participated in the military action against Hammerfell during the Redguard rebellion. Suddenly I thought I understood the source of his unease. How could he take up arms against his own countrymen? That couldn’t have been easy for him to do. “She used to tell me if it wasn’t for Cyrus, Hammerfell would not hold the close relationship it has with Cyrodiil. Instead, it would be a place of unrest, much like Morrowind is now.”

Casnar finally faced me. “You have the air of the Duneborn,” he straightened his shoulders beneath the ephemeral cuirass. His gaze raked over my own armor. “Yet you wear the mail of a Kvatch guard. And your katana is heavier than our own, though it resembles the Akaviri make.” Now I could see the typical Blades pride that marked the others.

“I am still a Blade sister,” I answered. “Though I came to it late in my life, and by a roundabout way. As for my ancestry -“ I shook my head.

“None of that matters,” the Ra’Gada waved me into silence. “What matters is that you are a Blade sister, and you have freed me from an eternity of slavery.”

“I could do nothing else, sir.” I regarded him for a moment more. I wish I could ask him about Cyrus. They lived in Hammerfell at the same time. Or did they?

Casnar’s left hand gestured toward the discarded dai-katana behind me. “Take my weapon and restore its honor. Else return it to Cloud Ruler Temple, hero and fellow Blade sister.” He gestured toward the amulet around my neck. “I see you have the amulet I gave Rielus. He needed it, the young rapscallion, taking too many chances. He gave me Mishaxi’s Cleaver in trade. And a fair one it was, too.”

I found myself smiling at his description of Rielus. “Brother, your cleaver shall hang in a place of honor in the Hall of Blades,” I said to him. And I should recover the old katanas from the others, too. When I’m finished clearing this place I will do so. “The last passage from the central hall is blocked though, I do not know how to get past it.”

“There is another door somewhere here that passes into the Catacombs,” Casnar advised me, his tone turning brisk. “At least, that’s what Alain said they were going to search.” He saluted me before turning and walking away. As his ghost disappeared into the gloom, I paused to drink a few healing potions. I wanted to conserve my magicka for the last Blade, the last fight.

Wow. Quite the finish to a fantastic fight. And we see how Casnar came to carry that dai-katana. But how did Valdemar get a hold of it? Wait, sorry, I'm asking the wrong person. Where's a Destri when you need him? I figure if George Martin can finish Dance, Destri Melarg can finish the next month in Interregnum. (I kid, Destri, I kid. Besides, I still have a ton of writing to do as well, and if I don't start before Tuesday...)

One not-quite-a-nit-yet (Bring Out Your Nits!):

You tend to italicize properly-named weapons. Is there a reason you haven't done so for Casnar's katana?

Lastly, Julian's a retired pilus prior, yes? That means one thing:

*Sings loudly*
"When Captain Anvil-Julian throws her mighty shield!..."

Behind the veil that Aetherius uses to cloak itself in mystery, and through the uncharted landscape that mortals have come to call the Dreamsleeve, two souls stand side by side in eternal fellowship. They have made their way to seats near the balcony railing, and with craned necks they focus their attention toward the Mundas. They remain a rapt audience to the trials undertaken by the sister whose every action heaps further honor upon their memory.

In the Halls of the Virtues of War amidst the sharp clash of endless swords one scabbard remains full. It rests upon the back of a handsome Redguard who stands vigil in the courtyard. He will remain this way until he is joined by the one who returned honor to his name, and gave him the map to find his way back home. He smiles at the thought of sharing a Sunbird dance with her when at long last she finally sets her labors aside.

And in Sovngarde where Shor’s table is ample enough to hold tankards that have never known the dregs, a Nord as large as any who ever ventured out of Skyrim shares the occasional sip with the comrades and heroes of his youth. He will not share in their revelry; he means to keep his wits about him. While she who ended his curse yet lives he stands ever ready to lend whatever fleeting moments of aid the Gods will allow.

On occasion the veil parts and the four souls are reunited with all of those who have come before. Blue plate covers skin, fur, and golden scales in equal measure. In those moments all the worlds are transformed into a single Temple of Akaviri design. Smiles and embraces are exchanged, and all share a moment to marvel at the exploits of the sister who so perfectly carries their legacy.



I don't know what else to say. This is all simply brilliant hautee!


I hear you Hammer, and I'm working on it!

The third fight, and again you suceeded in making it different and interestingly novel. The change of tactics halfway through definatly swung the balance, makes sense. Perhaps she will learn more about applying tactics in the ruin, certainly she's going to need them for the last fight, and they might be rather different given the prophetic line about conserving magic. I look forward to finding out.

I love how her development shows in these fights. Both her legion training and that from the blades are coming together and proving vital.

nit (sort of)
His spine cloven into two -- I found this line a bit odd - after four hundred years I doubt there's a whole lot left but bone so the spine will already be in discrete segments. It left me wondering if she knocked out a vertebrae, or shattered one, or seperated two - in which case how are they held together... It might just be me though.

Well done again! You ably capture the action, skill, poignancy and even majesty that I believe you have worked so hard to accomplish in Sancre Tor.

'With a swiftness undulled by centuries, … '
Very evocative phrasing!

'My blades crossed above me of their own volition, … '
Fabulous display of muscle memory in action.

'I sheathed Daedra Slayer, the act of catching air still an uphill task.'
Again, I love your wording here. In this case, to creatively say our Blade Sister was out of breath. I would be too!

I’ve been waiting for this. Like passing (dropping) a dagger to Menien, returning the katanas was a big deal to me after Sancre Tor.


Pretty much all I can say is, wow. And of course, you can guess that this:
is my favorite part.

An expertly written description of Casnar disarming Julian. It was so well done that I knew what he was doing before he finished the maneuver. Then of course Captain Julian with her mighty shield was an excellent touch. But of course the height of aweseomeness moment is Julian fighting with both swords upside down, in that classic Chinese style (well depicted in that link of yours).

I wish I could ask him about Cyrus. They lived in Hammerfell at the same time.
This was excellent! Here Julian is fighting like Kwai Chang Kane on steroids, and she is thinking "Gosh mister, did you know the Cyrus!" It is a wonderful way to keep her down to Nirn, after such spectacular displays of swordswomanship this chapter.


nits:
his heavier weapon easily sent my lighter weapon flying from my hand across the dim chamber
You have a repetition of weapon in the same sentence.

Loved the conversation between Casnar and Julian, Great Write !!

Wonderful fights, so far!

Next we shall see how Julian fares against the power of the North Wind. The tension sure is mounting fast!

Good luck, Julian, you're going to need it.

@Cap'n Bambam: Thanks for the compliments. Actually, it was Rielus who got the cleaver, and gave it to Casnar in return for the amulet. For how Rielus got the weapon (and Casnar the amulet) in the first place, well, you've already figured out that it's Destri that must tell that tale. Good catch on the cleaver's name, I've gone back and fixed it. And when I clicked on that link, I just about died! I had forgotten about Cap'n America!

@Destri: *Sniff* Now you made Julian and me cry! That was the ultimate compliment from a master storyteller, and we thank you from the bottoms of our hearts.

@Olen: I'm not sure just how much magic comes into play in the next fight, beyond the interaction of the enchanted gear. But I'll let you be the judge. I'm glad you liked the third fight - that was quite the challenge to write. As for your comment about the spine, that's my medical background showing again. Spine refers to the column of small bones that we like to call the backbone. Collectively, the spine is considered singular. But when referring to the small bones that interlock to make a single spine, those are vertebrae. Thus, cleaving a spine in two makes sense to me, but not cleaving vertebrae into two. I hope that was clearer than mud.

@Acadian: To say I was out of breath after writing that fight is the understatement of the decade. It was tough to capture so much blurring-fast action in words so that people can understand what Julian experienced was difficult. And muscle memory - what a wonderful thing it is. When it works, that is.

@Grits: I realized after playing Oblivion on the PC that there is an empty space on the rafters at Cloud Ruler Temple. I discovered that the two katanas hanging over the hearth belonged to Captain Renault and Glenroy, and knew that the empty space had to have been reserved for Rielus, Casnar, Alain and Valdemar, the four Greatest Blades ever. So I knew Julian had to bring them back even before she told me she had to bring them back.

@Sage Rose: Yes, I was so happy to find that little film. It was awesome to watch these guys - the choreography was so convincing that my heart jumped into my mouth more than once! And yes, Julian still has a bad case of hero-worship - she never quite outgrew that one. I wanted to play that up as much as I could given the situation.

@mALX: Thanks!

@TK: After fighting three tough hombres, Julian is going to have to dig very very deep to go up against Alain. I think you've pretty much summed it up.

Again, many, many thanks to Destri for the inspiration and characters of the four Blades, and D.Foxy for his combat expertise. I've learned so much writing this chapter.

And Julian makes her way to the final guardian. One more to go . . .

********************
Chapter 26.8: The Final Battle

I crept over the rough cavern floor toward the mystic flame that burned in the center of a relatively smooth area. The skeleton, his bones limned in a faint blue glow, shambled loose-limbed around the wide brazier. His ancient katana glimmered in the cold light.

He’s carrying the usual shield and blade combination, I thought to myself. But I can’t assess his fighting style by the way he moves. Unlike mortal opponents, these undead skeletons gave no indication of their training or combat preferences in their typical flat-footed toe-dragging. One thing for certain, he will be a tough fighter. Didn’t Grandmaster Jauffre call them the four greatest Blades that ever lived?

I recalled what Casnar had said about this Blade - “-they were fighting side by side, as always.” Alain and Valdemar. Ironic that they should end up on opposite sides of this cursed keep.

Still crouched in the shadows, I set my weapons down carefully. A second assessment of Valdemar’s shield showed the damage from Casnar’s dai katana had not improved in the last few minutes. I’m not certain I can trust this shield anymore. The magicka flared slightly in the darkness as I laid it gently against my pack. My katana and Daedra Slayer showed similar signs of damage. I regarded the red glimmer of Casnar’s weapon. It looks like the same glow on Thornblade. Disintegrate armor? Silently I fingered the broken rings in my shoulder. A few applications of healing spells and potions had closed the wound, but the unmended gash in the mail reminded me how close I had come to losing my arm.

Again my gaze moved back to the shambling bones, automatically trying to assess his fighting style, though my mind knew it was useless in this case. Can I handle this dai-katana now? The last time I held one of these, I could barely last two minutes before my arms started failing. But I was sick, weak, lame then. Now I’m healthy, strong. My right hand caressed the long hilt of the heavy weapon, designed for a two-handed grip. Would its enchantment help me, or hinder me?

Once more I rubbed at my right shoulder, feeling the raw scar beneath the broken links. The muscles beneath still felt bruised, but I had been able to carry my pack easily. My right hand still had its grip. And my left hand is the stronger. Using this weapon makes sense - I can bring my dominant side into play should my right side weaken. Fatigue still lingered in my bones, despite the last of the restoration potions I had drank down.

Never mind how I feel right now. I have to finish this. Blanco, and Martin Septim, are waiting for me to return. My right hand closed around the hilt of the dai katana, bringing it up to my left. I rose to my feet and straightened my spine, bringing the long narrow blade to rest lightly against my right shoulder. Ignoring my sore muscles and aching joints, I stepped forward into the glow cast by the brazier and waited.

The skeleton’s katana glimmered with a silver light as he turned toward me. Another enchanted weapon. Well, it’s to be expected - every one of the Blades so far had something enchanted. Wonder what this one has? Fortunately the shield seemed ordinary - if one could call the beautiful Akaviri shields ordinary.

The undead Blade stiffened and froze in place as his empty eyes met mine. His katana rose into the classical en garde position, the shield rising to protect his left side. As Casnar’s bones had done, I presented my left shoulder to him.

This one didn’t wait, but leaped past the brazier toward me, his weapon darting for my unprotected left side. I danced back, avoiding the slash that nearly sliced my hip. As he passed in front of me, I reached my left hand to his shoulder before he could spin away to bring his shield up. Magic swirled from my fingers, greedily sucking at his life energy before he broke the contact. I didn’t follow with a counterstrike, not wanting to waste the blade’s charge on the round metal. Instead, I waited for him to recover. Wait to strike. Evaluate his fighting style first.

He turned and faced me, his katana lowered, its tip barely touching the uneven ground. His frozen grin gleamed in the mystic light as his skull tipped to one side. An eerie sense crept over me at his assessing regard. He’s sizing me up just as I’m figuring him out. He’s fast, and strong. And he knows not to overextend himself.

As we stared at each other, I shifted my grip on the dai-katana. That bony visage moved slightly at the soft humming of my enchanted blade. Does he recognize it? Have I given him the impression that I’m not experienced with the two-handed blades? As with Rielus’s bones, I hoped he considered me a tiro.

Those empty eye sockets lowered slightly to meet my gaze, and he tapped his katana slightly on the ground so that its enchantment flickered again in the argent light from the ancient brazier. I couldn’t resist glancing at that enchanted weapon again. Before I could shift my gaze back to the grinning skull, the undead bones leaped toward me, his shield leading.

I skipped back just in time to avoid the bash and brought the dai-katana down on his armor. Red sparks flashed along the length of the blade as it skittered across the brass trim of his shield. I could see the nicks and scratches my weapon gouged out of the hard yellow metal as he stepped back. I barely ducked the overhead chop from his katana, catching it on the mailed sleeve of my left arm just above the elbow.

Argent magic swirled with blue as the enchantment of Matius’s cuirass interacted with that of the undead’s blade. Through the fur-lined tunic beneath my mail, cold sank into my flesh and numbed the bone. Damn! That’s frost magic! The impact of the strike, though glancing, gave me a hint of the strength the skeleton could wield.

My teeth clenched involuntarily against the combination of cold and bruising pain as I leaped back another step. He’s not as powerful as Valdemar, but he’s faster. Almost as fast as Casnar. As agile? I’ll have to find out. My gaze moved to the stairway that led out of the cavern. It rose into the darkness just beyond the skeleton’s shoulder, several paces away. Can I get to it before he does? I sidled to my right and feinted toward his shield. He blocked me easily, for I did not follow through on my hit. Then it was time for me to parry his counterstrike. We fell into a syncopated rhythm of parry and block, neither of us yielding ground to the other. After my third hit, the sound of the clanging metal changed slightly in pitch.

Good, this dai-katana is working on his shield. Apparently the bones also noticed the warning signal of metal fatigue, for he dodged my next feint, avoiding contact with my blade. Again his enchanted katana sent cold flooding through my left shoulder before I could duck back. This time the blow sent me reeling, pain chasing the chill. Damn, he’s fast. And he keeps his weight centered over his feet. No overextending or exposing himself unnecessarily.

I darted closer to that stairway, my left hand dropping from the dai-katana’s grip long enough to shake the chill out of my arm and shoulder. Argent light fizzled around me as I cast a quick healing spell to take the edge from the frost magic. Again the skeleton lunged at me with another overhead chop. I slid back, and as the other’s weapon struck the hard ground, I stepped forward and brought the dai-katana down as hard and fast as I could. I kept my body centered over my hips as the weapon bit savagely into the structure of his right shoulder, sending red sparks fizzling from the white bone. He rose and sent me staggering with a backhanded sweep of his sword arm.

It is an irony that Alain and Valdemar would be at the opposite sides of the dungeon, after being so inseparable in life (Am I the only one who sees cupid's arrow there? )

Once again, more clever sword-fighting on the part of both combatants. Julian's holding back her sword during the first pass to avoid wasting a charge, and instead using her absorb health, was inspired. Likewise was Alain's use of his sword as a distraction before his shield bash.

It looks like her dai-katana has a disintegrate armor enchantment. Pappy's favorite. She makes good use of it to destroy Alain's shield. Alain of course shows his experience by adjusting her her tactic. Now I cannot wait to see how this duel ends!

Another fight, and as interesting and exciting as the preceding three! You have really done well at making each of the fights here unique in their own way. And you, once again have given a surprising degree of personality to the Blades, even in their skeleton forms.

I thoroughly enjoyed Julian trying to evaluate her foe before the fight - and her challenge of trying to assess animated bones. You also painfully pointed out that Julian is somewhat battered at this point while her foe is fresh (well, for a 400 year old Blade).

'Argent magic swirled with blue as the enchantment of Matius’s cuirass interacted with that of the undead’s blade. Through the fur-lined tunic beneath my mail, cold sank into my flesh and numbed the bone. Damn! That’s frost magic! The impact of the strike, though glancing, gave me a hint of the strength the skeleton could wield.'
This was fabulous, particularly how you described the interaction between enchanted armor and blade.

I was quite disappointed in Oblivion during the days I played blade users, that the dai katana has the same range as a long sword or one handed katana. Assuming you are not binding Julian to that constraint, I hope she will be able to exploit the tip of her longer weapon.

As throughout Sancre Tor, you have my heart pounding for Julian.

Nit (not really, just a style question) -
'The skeleton, his bones limned in a faint blue glow, shambled loose-limbed around the wide brazier, his ancient katana glimmering in the cold light.'
There seems to be enough clauses and description in this that might you be better served by breaking it into two sentences? Perhaps giving the last clause its own sentence?

That worked well for me, disintegrate armour is always an effect I've had trouble imagining. How does it work? Having it fatigue the material makes perfect sense. One good knock and the whole thing will fall apart. I also like that she didn't just magic her gear better with a repair hammer, it always struck me as a bit silly in game that there were no problems working steel cold.

As Acadian said this fight is again different from the other three but just as exciting. She certainly knows her weapon styles, and you certianly know how to write about them. I'm really enjoying Sancre Tor. More please.

Subrosa - that thought had crossed my mind.

GAAAAAH !!! A cliffhanger !!! Urg !!!

A second assessment of Valdemar’s shield showed the damage from Casnar’s dai katana had not improved in the last few minutes.

I love it when Julian throws these unexpected wry comments in! I particularly enjoyed the description of the frost magic. That’s my favorite sword in the game. I also enjoyed the description of the disintegrate enchantment. For the repair hammers, I imagine them to carry an enchantment that is the opposite of disintegrate armor/weapon.

@SubRosa: No, you're not the only one who noticed the bromance in Interregnum. For my part I wondered if it was just the typical buddy system favored by so many military cultures or a true bromance. Only Destri knows the truth at this time, I suppose. I think this duel ended rather quickly, in spite of Julian's fatigue.


@Acadian: I doubt Julian is that skilled a fencer to utilize the longer reach of the dai-katana (I assume we're talking Japanese swords here, not Akaviri). It would take some pretty strong wristwork, and while Julian is a skilled blader, she is no Blademaster. I'm glad you are enjoying these fights so far. Personally, I'm glad it's the last one for a while, and so is Julian!

@Olen: I agree about the repair hammers. They're kind of useless for anything more than hammering out dents and straightening bent weapons without a decent forge. If repair hammers could repair anything in the field, then why do we have forges in Nirn? What kind of work would smiths have? The way I see it, these repair hammers have to have some kind of limitations. Full repair of Julian's armor will have to wait until she gets back to Cloud Ruler Temple.

@mALX: I decided I'd better go ahead and relieve Cliff sooner than I've been doing, if only to save your neck.

@Grits: Good, I was hoping someone would appreciate Julian's wry humor. It's surfacing more and more as she gets more confident in her new role as a Blade. Now that she is no longer an active pilus, she can let it rip from time to time. Northwind is a pretty decent blade in the game, but I find that I'm preferring a custom shock enchanted light sword. The katanas overall remain my favorite of all the swords, though the ebony blades come in a close second. I've always liked Goldbrand, though I hate having to do a Daedric quest to get it. Umbra is pretty cool, though the quest to get it is so somber and sad.


It's time to let Cliff off the hangman's noose and continue on with the fight, if only for mALX's sake. After freeing three of her Blade brothers, Julian is in the midst of her attempt to do the same for the fourth.


Again, many, many thanks to Destri for the inspiration of Interregnum, and D.Foxy for his combat expertise. Without these two I couldn't have raised the bar on the Sancre Tor quest. Judging from the comments this chapter has generated, it seems that I've been successful in doing so.


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Chapter 26.9 The Witchman's Son

I now stood with the stairway behind me. Did I do him real harm? He's hit me twice already, and I've hit him only once. Is this enchantment effective against bone as well as armor? My questions were answered when he charged me again, that katana flashing as quickly as ever. White magic and red sparks mingled as I parried his blow on my stronger blade. As he brought his full strength to bear against my dai-katana, I could see the Akaviri steel of his weapon nicking, spitting scarlet sparks beneath the enchantment of Casnar's gift.

Somehow I managed to step sideways, letting his blade slip off of mine. For a brief moment he was over-extended, and I seized the rare opportunity and struck him again with Casnar's weapon. This time the blade sparked against his spine and ribs before his recovery knocked it away.

My own recovery was quicker, as I had remained careful to keep my body centered over my own hips and knees. My feet found the lower steps of the stair and I darted upward into the darkness. Without hesitation the skeleton ran after me, almost as fast as I. Again I struck at him, the red enchantment catching his shield and gouging yet another deep gash in the blue enamel. He swung it away from his centerline, forcing my blade to my right. Time lengthened as my eyes tracked the silver sparkle of his weapon arcing toward my left hip.

He's going low, but his head is exposed. The bones's shield was still sweeping backwards behind the skeleton's body, its momentum briefly overcoming his control. I can parry that sword in time, but he'll recover before I can take advantage of his exposure.

"Take a cut to break a bone." Once again Jelin's voice saved me. All right, Blademaster. You're right. Resist the urge to parry. Go for the greater strike.

Now I brought my dominant side to bear as I snapped the dai-katana back toward him, my left arm pulling it in a vicious arc toward his head. His frosted katana struck my hip, but this time it was his turn to stagger as Casnar's weapon split his ancient helm from his skull in a shower of scarlet motes. I screamed at the frozen agony that surged through my hip, bringing back old memories of crippling pain.

The skeleton leaned his right shoulder against the wall as the clattering faded away. My teeth ground from the frost magic surging up my flank as I took advantage of the brief quiet to limp up and back another step, bringing the dai-katana back in front of me. Now. Finish him off. Ignoring the injury, I used the height advantage to leap toward him while Casnar's weapon darted toward his head from his left in an attempt to pin him against the wall.

But the bones wasn't finished yet. He blocked my slash with his shield and bashed me away. I flew over the side of the stairway and landed on my right side on the rough stone below. The bluish glow from the brazier dimmed alarmingly as pinpoint grey flecks danced in the blackness of my vision. Gasping for air, I managed to shake sight back into my eyes and looked up toward the stairway. My left fingers twitched another healing spell into swirling motion.

I expected him to follow me over the side of the stairs, but the skeleton descended to the floor in the conventional manner. I picked up the dai-katana, which had landed nearby, and struggled to my knees before he was on me, the shield hanging in two pieces from his left arm. His katana rose in a silver blurred arc above me. Desperately I swung Casnar's weapon in a sidewise slash toward his knees, using the momentum of my strike to fling myself away from that descending blade.

The dai-katana shattered both legs at the knees as sparks flew from the weapon striking the ground next to my boot. I gained my feet as his bones fell to the floor, Casnar's blade moving of its own volition toward the exposed neck of my crippled opponent. The skull spun away and landed in the brazier, disappearing in that mystic flame as my left hip screamed in protest. Both of us collapsed at the same time, the bones losing the pink glow, and me my breath and magicka.

I struggled to my feet as the final phantom appeared. He rose to his full height and started past my left side. "Yield or pay the price! I must go to do my lord's last bidding." The Breton accent confirmed my suspicion that this was Alain. He stopped shoulder to shoulder with me, his gaze on the round shield still resting on my nearby pack. "Wait, that's the shield I gave Valdemar!" His gaze roamed over me, lingering on the Kvatch Wolf on my chest before fixing on the dai-katana in my right hand. "And that's Casnar's cleaver! I can feel Rielus's amulet on you as well. What did you do to them?"

"The same -" I managed to get the words out between gasps, "- thing I did - to you!"

Alain turned and glanced behind him, seeing his own bones for the first time. Ghostly brows rose beneath a transparent helm. "You - you freed me? Freed my brothers?"

"Yes, all three of them await you at the Shrine," I answered, my breaths slowing and deepening.

Alain's brows rose beneath the helm. "Valdemar too?"

"I promised him I would do my best to send him to Sovngarde," I answered. "Though how, I'm not certain. I'm just an old Redguard pilus who joined the Blades only recently."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Just because your mother was a Redguard does not mean you lack the magicka necessary for it." He pointed a ghostly finger at my left wrist, hidden behind Valdemar's shield. "I can sense a magical connection there, on your wrist."

"What?" I stared at him. "That is my mother's bracelet, but what the enchantment is, I don't know."

Alain regarded me a moment longer. "You will find out someday. I see pain and loss in your past, and in your future. But beyond that, joy and hope awaits. Get through the dark times ahead, and you will find light and freedom." Now he indicated the katana laying discarded among the bones. "Take my katana. I'd tell you to keep it, but you already have a pair of your own. If you like mine better, carry it in my stead. Otherwise hang it in the Hall of the Blades."

I picked up the weapon and bowed to him. "It will be done, sir." Involuntarily I held out my hand to stop his departure. "But how is it you know of me?"

Alain was silent, his gaze on the stone wall beyond us. "I was never much for magic," he remarked softly. "Though my father was a Witchman, the talent did not come down to me. But being undead lets me see both the mundane and the magical." His eyes moved to me. "And I see much that is magical about you." He shrugged. "I believe you will somehow keep your promise to Valdemar, and free him from that ancient curse. For that, I am -" he paused, then smiled slowly, "- forever indebted to you. Now I must go to join my brothers. We will wait for you there." He turned and walked away from me.

There is much that is magical about me? I stared after his departing shimmer. Of course, between Daedra Slayer, Valdemar's shield, Rielus's amulet, Matius's cuirass and Casnar's cleaver, I'm loaded down with magicka! Or did he mean more than enchanted gear? No, he can't have - I have little magicka of my own to speak of. I glanced around at the empty chamber, then followed the trailing afterimage of Alain's passing.

And so she frees the last blade, exciting stuff. I thought she had him when she took the slash on the stairs but you kept the adreniline going a bit longer. If those cryoburns hurt now she's in for a world of fun later...

The conversation after worked very well for me. His confusion made sense after 400 years being undead and his interaction with her was spot on. More prophesy too, and that mysterious bracelet, I'd forgotten about it. I wonder if her being reminded means something is immenent or if you're keeping that little mystery on the boil. Either way good stuff, it added to their interaction and to showing Alain's magical ability. In turn that was the perfect point to prophesise about Julian after the crisis.

I look orward to the shrine and her recovering the armour.


Indeed it appears this had been widely noticed. Nicely inkeeping whichever way Destri takes that.

The dai-katana shattered both legs at the knees as sparks flew from the weapon striking the ground next to my boot. I gained my feet as his bones fell to the floor, Casnar's blade moving of its own volition toward the exposed neck of my crippled opponent. The skull spun away and landed in the brazier, disappearing in that mystic flame as my left hip screamed in protest. Both of us collapsed at the same time, the bones losing the pink glow, and me my breath and magicka.

Whew! What a way to end the battle to free the four greatest Blades ever! Alain had a lot to say, all of it intriguing.

Alain's brows rose beneath the helm. "Valdemar too?"

I took this as a reference to the curse Valdemar received from the stranger in his village when he was a teenager. I’m looking forward to what comes next in Sancre Tor.

This time the blade sparked against his spine and ribs before his recovery knocked it away.
If only he were mortal! Julian would have won the fight there.

"Take a cut to break a bone." Once again Jelin's voice saved me. All right, Blademaster. You're right. Resist the urge to parry. Go for the greater strike.
As Captain Adama would say: "Sometimes you gotta roll the hard six."

Alain's brows rose beneath the helm. "Valdemar too?"
Yep, you certainly keep the ambiguity here, while at the same time maintaining the implications as well. If Destri never gets around to finishing Interregnum and letting us know which way they swing, someone is going to have to write a Valdemar/Alain slash...

Those last four fights were simply stunning. *Phew* I feel as if I have been through the ringer as much as Julian has. Thank goodness she has gotten past the Fab Four, umm Fantastic Four, I mean eX-Men. She had to be one Iron Woman to become their Avenger.

Hopefully things will slow down a bit now for Julian, and she can just go pick up the bloody tin suit and be done with this place. She has already moved Aetherius and Nirn as it is!

But, even her current mission aside, I noticed the pitter-patter of foreshadowing feet. Once again in the form of Julian's bracelet.

Or did he mean more than enchanted gear?
Methinks he did Julian... I so love to see her squirm like this. After such dazzling displays of heroism, it keeps so well grounded in her humanity.

'Now I brought my dominant side to bear as I snapped the dai-katana back toward him, my left arm pulling it in a vicious arc toward his head. His frosted katana struck my hip, but this time it was his turn to stagger as Casnar's weapon split his ancient helm from his skull in a shower of scarlet motes. I screamed at the frozen agony that surged through my hip, bringing back old memories of crippling pain.
Riveting passage, this!

Nice descriptions of magic and other things woven into the fight. Julian's assessment and description of her own near loss of consciousness was spot on.

This final fight did not disappoint. Even better however, was the conversation with Alain that followed. I'm quite intrigued by his foreshadowing type comments, particularly regarding that mysterious bracelet that came from Julian's mother.

All powerful stuff!

@Olen: Glad you liked the ending of the fight, even more glad you liked the conversation afterwards. Yes, I'm keeping that mystery on the boil. I never considered Alain much of a mage, but I figured being undead gave him a little bit of an edge.

@Grits: "Valdemar too?" actually has two purposes – it highlights the relationship between the two men – typical of the buddy system – but also (you're right) refers to Valdemar's curse. For those readers who are puzzled about curse that is unique to Valdemar, please read Interregnum. You won't regret it!


@SubRosa: "Take a cut to break a bone." That actually came from a K-drama I watched last summer. I loved the implications of it so much, and it totally fits in with Julian's character, I've been waiting a long time to use it! So it makes me happy that you called it out. If you feel exhausted after finishing that last post, then I've done my job. Yes, Julian will continue to protest that she has much in the way of magicka. But things get bigger better with use, and hers will too.

@Acadian: That confrontation was a pretty violent one in game, and Alain's bones was the only one to knock Julian out. So I'm glad that you felt the punishment Alain dealt out, and the ripostes Julian served up in return. Alain was the perfect vehicle to call further attention to Julian's mother's bracelet and remind us all of the mystery surrounding her family.

After fighting and freeing the four Greatest Blades ever, Julian finally reaches the goal of the whole adventure. This is also the last segment of Chapter 26. Many, many thanks to Destri for the inspiration of Interregnum and D.Foxy for sharing his combat expertise.

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Chapter 26.10: In the Tomb
After fighting my way out of the Catacombs and wading through ice-cold water to return to the mezzanine, I finally returned to the crypt where the Reman emperors rested in their final sleep. As Alain had promised, the four phantom Blades waited, on their right knees in the traditional Dragonguard homage, their right hands resting on the hilts of their drawn weapons propped before them. Ahead, the magical barrier that blocked further progress into the crypt shimmered, then began waxing and waning in brightness.

When it waxed brighter, the temperature in the chilly crypt dropped further, but when it waned dimmer, I could feel the hint of warmth that indicated I was still alive. The four Blades showed no sign of strain, but kept their heads bowed. I could feel power surging around the stone walls and swirling above the sarcophagi as the psychic tug-o-war continued.

With a silent clap more felt than heard, the mystical barrier winked out of existence, and for the first time the way to the far end of the crypt was clear. I could see a tall tunnel of rough-hewn rock between the smoother stones of the nearer crypt and the Shrine at the far end.

After a few moments more, Rielus rose first, sheathing his katana. He stepped past Valdemar on my right and stopped before me. His form shimmered, seeming more insubstantial than before.

"Julian of Anvil," his wispy voice somehow echoed around the chamber. "You have freed us from slavery. But you did not come here for us. No, you came on behalf of another, the last descendant of Tiber Septim. We who are sworn to the Dragonblood shall serve him beyond death."

"That is right," Casnar said from behind me, his spectral dai-katana at his back mirroring the real one I carried at mine. His voice sounded even more feathery. "We are now bound only by the Blades oath we swore. Why did you come here? What do you seek?"

I looked from phantasmal face to phantasmal face, meeting the ghostly gaze of each in turn. "I come for the Blood of Tiber Septim," I said finally. "The Dragonfires are dark, the Amulet of Kings is lost, and the blood of a Divine is needed to restore the balance of Nirn and reestablish the boundaries of Oblivion."

Alain's faint visage clouded. "It sounds grave. And you seek the Blood of Tiber Septim? He is one of the Gods now." His face shifted around the circle of Blades before returning to me. "You have wrought an end to the evil that has desecrated the Shrine of Tiber Septim. After - how long did you say? - after four hundred years, only the Divine Talos himself could have given you the strength and courage to brave the evils that have infested Sancre Tor for so long."

"I don't know for certain," I shook my head. "The keep had been sealed after you were lost, and the current Grandmaster gave me the only key -"

"But it still took much courage and willpower to confront the undead of this place, and to do what was necessary to free us," Valdemar's tone took on the thinness of the atmosphere in the High Jeralls. "Go, pay homage at the Shrine, and take the armor that holds the Blood you seek."

The circle of Blades separated into two pairs, Rielus and Casnar on my right, Alain and Valdemar on my left, leaving the way to the Shrine ahead clear. I hesitated doubtfully. "I don't want to do anything wrong here," my voice matched theirs in its wispiness. "Would taking the armor desecrate the Shrine once more?"

"If what you say is true," Rielus whispered. "These are desperate times. The Shrine of Tiber Septim becomes meaningless if Oblivion is not held back, if the Dragonfires are not lit, if the Amulet of Kings is not recovered. All of these things must be done, and none can be done without taking the armor." He jerked his head toward the far end of the crypt. "So go."

I walked slowly toward the rough-hewn tunnel. As my feet left the smooth stone floor, I hesitated and glanced back. The four spectral Blades remained near the entrance, their shimmering forms much harder to see than when they first appeared above their shattered bones. One of them, Casnar, gestured sharply for me to continue.

Feeling the fatigue and depleted magicka in my bones, and the weight of the Blades' gear I carried, I moved forward to the far end. The rock tunnel let me into a high-ceilinged chamber with carvings of skulls, bony hands and dragons on the walls. Before me stood a round altar on a raised dais, flanked by giant statues of cloaked and hooded battlemages holding immense stone swords before them. A sarcophagus with a stone plaque rested between the two guardians. Reman III. Something glimmered in the spectral light on top of the altar.

I walked up the steps and stopped before the structure. An ornate plated cuirass, enameled in blues, greens, and rich browns with gilded curlicues, rested on the golden marble surface. I could see dark brown stains splashed across its right side. I slid the Blades shield up onto my forearm. Careful to avoid the ancient blood, I reached hesitant hands out and picked the cuirass up by its shoulders. It was surprisingly light, but I knew it was strong for its weight.

Tiber Septim must have been as big as Captain Burd, at least! The plate cuirass was wider through the shoulders than I was. Before I turned away from the altar, something made me look up at the two stone battlemages. Thank you Talos, for seeing me this far. May you and Akatosh continue to give me the courage I need to finish this. May the both of you watch over Martin, and through him, all of us. Please help us recover the Amulet of Kings and close shut the jaws of Oblivion.

I didn't hear anything in response to my prayer, but somehow the moment felt right to carry the cuirass away from the altar. Slipping my right arm through the armholes, I made my way back to the antechamber of the crypt.

The spectral Blades were still waiting for me when I returned. I looked at each in turn. Then Rielus stepped forward. "Thank you for all you've done, hero," he said. "Our duty is complete, we have accomplished what we were sent to do. You hold the thing you seek. We go now to Aetherius." With a bow, his phantasmal form shivered into nothingness. Suddenly the space he had once occupied felt empty.

Tears stung the backs of my eyes at his disappearance. Before I could think of something to say, Casnar drew my attention to him with a Blades salute. "Farewell, Duneborn," he said to me. "Keep your hand steady and your blade true. You are truly our Blade sister." Then he too, shimmered away.

"It is getting harder and harder to remain on Mundus," Alain's fading voice matched his fading appearance. "But I am glad, for it means our long suffering is at an end. Blade sister, as long as you do not forget us, we shall never forsake you." He disappeared before the last of his voice echoed into the darkness.

Valdemar stood with his eyes lifted beyond the stone walls of the crypt. A smile bloomed across his insubstantial visage. "Ah, I see the halls of Sovngarde!" His voice was lighter than the lightest of snowflakes. "All the old heroes are waiting for me."

I finally found my voice. "Have a drink of that mead for me, Valdemar. And may all eternity be free of any curses on your soul."

Valdemar's only response was to meet my gaze with a grin before he dissolved into the dimness. I let the tears flow as I felt the emptiness of the crypt surround me in its cold embrace. Slowly I gave in to my fatigue and sat down on the stone steps.

The force of my feelings left me puzzled. Why do I feel so strongly for these four? Is it because they were cursed for so long, enslaved under an evil influence for over four hundred years? I looked down at the cuirass on my right arm. All that suffering, all that pain, for this? Certainly it's a beautiful piece of armor, but it's just armor. Why make a shrine out of it? Why risk eternal damnation for it?

Julian, you know the armor itself is worthless. But it's what it stands for that counts. This armor holds the blood of a Divine, and that is what you came here for. It's like what Rielus said, the shrine loses all meaning if Dagon succeeds in overcoming Tamriel. And that is something Talos Stormcrown the man would not have stood still for. He would have fought it with everything he had. In that sense, Martin is truly a Septim, he holds the indomitable spirit of General Talos.

Finally I made my way out of the fort, making time to collect the two ancient katanas left by Valdemar and Rielus's undead bones. As I stepped through the door into the courtyard, I blinked at the bright sunlight. Snow had stopped falling, and the shadows told me it was mid-morning. I've been in there a whole day, and I feel like it, too! I stumbled across the keep to the campsite tucked beneath the stairs. Blanco was nowhere to be seen. Is he out grazing? Did he tangle with a bear by himself? Or did he give up waiting and start heading back to civilization?

After I unloaded all the gear next to the saddlebags, being especially careful with Talos's armor, I moved to the entrance and looked out over the ruins. The central keep stood on a slight rise in the middle of the destroyed town, and the half-defined street ran down the slight slope away from the sun. I saw no sign of either a white horse, or the dark brown blanket I had left on him.

I breathed on my numb fingers to warm them, then blew a sharp blast through them. I listened to the silent morning, then exhaled slowly when I heard hoof beats in the distance. At the end of the ruined avenue, a brown-blanketed white form appeared, powdery snow flying around galloping hooves. Blanco cantered up the broad path, his ears pricked forward and his eyes bright. Bits of yellow dried grass bristled out of each side of his mouth. I stepped back into the keep as he slithered to a trot, then a walk by the time he passed through the arch. He stopped beside me, snorting and blowing and examining me all over with his nose. He paused with his breath at the base of my neck, where Rielus's amulet rested against my bare skin beneath my tunic.

Can he detect magic? I wondered. I recalled how he had identified my mother's bracelet back in Anvil. Maybe there is something about those Witchmen stories. Still I was glad to see him, and his obvious joy and relief at seeing me again brought a smile to my weary face. He began chewing again, gathering in the last of the grass with his lips and tongue as I checked beneath the blanket to make certain he hadn't become chilled. Instead, the underside of the heavy wool was so toasty that I stood there for a few moments, reveling in finally feeling my fingertips.

I moved back to the campsite, Blanco following me closely. As I brought the fire back to life, he nosed among the gear I had brought out. I moved to chase him away, but noticed how careful he was not to touch any of them, especially Tiber Septim's elaborate cuirass. Then he turned toward me and sighed deeply. I laughed, my voice weak and dry.

"I'm going to eat, drink, and sleep. Tomorrow's soon enough to get back on the road, friend," I murmured to him. Blanco tossed his head as if agreeing. I must look terrible to him. That's why he isn't pawing to go.

Good part (as ever), the end of the four worked well for me, not overstated but effective. Their relief at ending was also a good touch.

I also like the power you've given the armour, makes sense that such an artifact wouldn't just be an old bit of metal. Her malease at taking it until she had taken a mental step back and realised why she had to added a lot to the sense of its power. As did Blanco not touching it.

Now some well deserved rest and back to civilisation. I'm looking forward to Cloud Ruler, the only thing this section missed was dialogue. Julian will be needing some company.

It sounds grave
Am I the only one to see the irony of Alain's choice of words, considering that they are in a tomb?

So the curse has indeed been broken, and Julian's own trials (for now) finally with it. *Phew*! Like I said before, that was quite an ordeal! Finally we are back out in the light of day, with a well-fed horse for company.

I loved Blanco's sniffing of Julian's neck, and her wondering about his ability to sense magic. A Witchhorse! It is a lovely idea. I suspect we might see more of that after Julian's current tale has ended, and the sequel begins.



nits:
I could feel power surging around the stone walls and swirling above the sarcophagi as the psychic tug-o-war continued.
This is purely a flavor-based comment, so feel free to ignore it. You might consider going with a term like magical, or mystical, as psychic is word usually associated with science fiction rather than fantasy.

This was well done throughout, but the quote below is surely some of the best and most powerful writing you have done. As fine as the episode was, nothing can stand against this magnificent passage:

'The spectral Blades were still waiting for me when I returned. I looked at each in turn. Then Rielus stepped forward. "Thank you for all you've done, hero," he said. "Our duty is complete, we have accomplished what we were sent to do. You hold the thing you seek. We go now to Aetherius." With a bow, his phantasmal form shivered into nothingness. Suddenly the space he had once occupied felt empty.

Tears stung the backs of my eyes at his disappearance. Before I could think of something to say, Casnar drew my attention to him with a Blades salute. "Farewell, Duneborn," he said to me. "Keep your hand steady and your blade true. You are truly our Blade sister." Then he too, shimmered away.

"It is getting harder and harder to remain on Mundus," Alain's fading voice matched his fading appearance. "But I am glad, for it means our long suffering is at an end. Blade sister, as long as you do not forget us, we shall never forsake you." He disappeared before the last of his voice echoed into the darkness.

Valdemar stood with his eyes lifted beyond the stone walls of the crypt. A smile bloomed across his insubstantial visage. "Ah, I see the halls of Sovngarde!" His voice was lighter than the lightest of snowflakes. "All the old heroes are waiting for me."

Bravo, Rider!

A most wonderful ending to a most wonderful quest.

I fear my own quest in my own game shall soon come to an end, but where one man's story ends, another begins. I wish Julian luck with her next endeavour... the ancient magicks of the Ayleids are matched only by their indomitable will drive for power. And Julian will have to witness firsthand what happens to any who try to remove that power from their grasp.

But that's in due time, I'm sure Martin still needs to work out exactly what needs to be done next. Until then, I wish Julian a relaxing time off!

GAAAAAH !!! I'm dying to know about the bracelet from her mother !!!! ARGH !!! Great Write !!!

The interactions between the five Blades made a moving end to this quest. I have been enthralled throughout. Now we have Cloud Ruler Temple to anticipate, where the company is as warm as that big fire. Hopefully Julian will make the journey under an azure sky.

With a deep sense of satisfaction do I read the end of the quest, and the masterly exposition of Julian's sword skills which it has been my humble privilige to have contributed slightly to...

Julian has grown much in these last ten chapters. Make her character deeper, hautee, and your writing skills will show a commensurate increase!!!

Two thumbs up for you my girl!!!

@Olen: I remember how powerfully this quest affected me when I first played it. Seeing those four spirits depart for Aetherius was bittersweet and nearly made me cry (and I usually don't cry at games). I wanted to convey the emotional impact without being too sappy. And yes, I can only write so much dialogue when it's just Julian and Blanco!

@SubRosa: I'm glad you felt the exhaustion along with Julian by the time she lugged all that gear out of the ruin. And your suspicion that Blanco will be part of a sequel is pretty spot on. That's about all I will say.

@Acadian: I have to admit that I got very teary-eyed writing that passage you quoted. I'm glad you were affected by it too.

@TK: I'm not sure just how much time off or how relaxing it will be for Julian before Martin sends her off again. We'll have to see . . .

@mALX: We won't find out about the bracelet before the end of the Main Quest, and as this story ends with the Main Quest, well –

@Grits: Yes, Julian is really looking forward to being back at Cloud Ruler Temple, where the company is indeed as warm as that big fire. And I think you will soon see that the sky is azure indeed.

@Foxee: Slightly contributed to? Slightly?? Surely thou jest, our vulpine friend! And yes, Julian will continue to grow, now that her physical condition is back to what it once was (as fit as she was in treydoggie's story).

The story so far: Julian has recovered the Armor of Tiber Septim from Sancre Tor, as well as solving the mystery of the four Greatest Blades. Now she returns at the end of her Grand Circuit of Cyrodiil to report to Emperor Martin and Grandmaster Jauffre. And we get to see a little more mystery that is the white stallion named Blanco.

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Chapter 27.1: The End of the Grand Circuit
After resting and repairing armor for much of the day and sleeping through the night, Blanco and I made an early start the next morning. The sun glowed between the grey clouds ahead of us as we walked through another snowfall. This time, the wind blew from the mountain peaks to the north of us, sending cold fingers down my neck. It's colder than it was at Cloud Ruler two months ago. I'm not looking forward to finding out just how cold it is now! I had left the horse-blanket on over the saddle to keep Blanco's haunches warm against the wind, and I had one of my own blankets wrapped around my shoulders and covering my bare hands. It was arranged in such a way that I could shrug it off and draw my katana in a hurry if needed.

Sunrise on the Golden Hill

Valdemar's shield, the four weapons of the Blades, and Tiber Septim's armor were wrapped in the other blanket and arranged over the saddlebags behind me. I had apologized to Blanco for making him into a pack horse, but he had only shaken his head as if to shrug it off. I recalled his interest last night in the gear. He had seemed very interested in the enchanted items, but had lingered the longest over the elaborate cuirass with the blood on it. As far as I could tell, it held no enchantment.

The rest of the High Road was mostly uneventful. We encountered a few wolves, all of whom faded away into the wilderness when Blanco challenged them. We found Applewatch without much trouble, and soon entered the maze of trails northwest of the Bruma walls. A Legion forester watched us from his vantage point on a rock-strewn hillock, but did not approach us, though he waved briefly in greeting.

Suddenly I couldn't take the slow pace anymore. I clucked at Blanco, who leaped gleefully into a canter. We wove our way through the web of faint paths, always working eastward, until Blanco's feet found the clearer road running up to Cloud Ruler Temple. He kept up the pace until we reached the base of the mountain. I slowed him to a walk, and he bounced a couple of times as if protesting the enforced slow gait.

"We always walk the first mile out, and the last mile back," I chided him softly, struggling to keep the laughter out of my voice. I couldn't believe how much I was looking forward to seeing my Blade comrades again. And I couldn't wait to see the look on Martin's face when I unwrapped the cuirass of his legendary ancestor. Briefly I wondered how that plate armor would look on him, then reminded myself he didn't want it to wear, he wanted it for Talos's blood.

Blanco marched determinedly up the steep road. By now the sun was well past its zenith, and the blue sky shone brightly above. White diamonds sparkled everywhere I looked, and no breeze disturbed the snow on the pine boughs.

The Last Long Walk

When we reached the last bend in the road before Cloud Ruler Temple, I craned up at the watchtowers. A silhouetted Blade waved at me from the eastern tower, just as the huge gates began to creak open. Blanco snorted and swiveled his ears as the two Blades turned from the panels to salute me with fists to chests.

"Welcome home, Julian!" Caroline greeted me. "I see you have a fine new horse!"

"We heard what happened to Paint," Roliand spoke from the left as I dismounted. "I hope he recovers."

"He's home at Weynon Priory," I answered. "And in much better shape than he was. Still not back to his old form, but I think he's content and comfortable now."

"And do you return to report success to our Emperor?" Caroline asked as I motioned for Blanco to follow me through the open gateway.

"Yes, I have success to report," I smiled in relief. I waited as they closed the gates behind us, then started up the steps. Blanco followed behind me without hesitation. Roliand eyed the stallion as he fell in at my left shoulder.

"Quite the horse," he remarked. "We had also heard about him, so I've got a stall prepared for him."

I faltered at the thought of Red and Jasmine. "Will Red give us a hard time about Blanco?"

"Jasmine's out of heat for the winter," Roliand shrugged. "And she has a mind of her own. I doubt she'll let the boys quarrel over her."

"If there's a problem, we have an alternative stable ready," Caroline volunteered. "So it shouldn't be difficult to keep them separated if we must."

"Blanco got along fine with Paint," I glanced at her. "But Paint's gelded, and Red isn't. And Blanco has flirted with every single Black Courier mare we've met on the road."

"Of course he did!" Roliand exclaimed. "He wouldn't be worth his balls if he didn't!"

"Typical male," Caroline muttered under her breath. I wasn't certain if she meant Blanco or Roliand, and smiled at the quandary.

We reached the plaza and I looked ahead to see Captain Steffan, Grandmaster Jauffre, and Martin Septim gathered near the top of the stairs. Evidently they had left the warmth of the Hall at the news of our arrival. Blanco and I walked to them.

"Sire," I greeted Martin with my fist at my chest. "I come in success." I faced Jauffre's twinkling gaze. "And to report success to you as well, sir." I turned to Blanco and moved to take the wrapped bundle off the saddlebags. As I stepped back with the gear in my arms, Blanco stretched his neck out toward Martin. He blew vigorously as the Septim uncertainly held his hands out. We all stared in shock as Blanco tossed his head, then dropped to his right knee with arched neck and bowed head in an equine version of the Blades homage before a speechless Martin.

Jauffre tore his gaze from the white stallion and glared at me. "What in Oblivion is this?"

"I - I don't really know," I stammered. "But he was very interested in Tiber Septim's cuirass last night. I wonder if he can detect traces of Talos Stormcrown in Martin."

Martin's hazel eyes moved from Blanco to me in amazement. "Really? Where is he from?"

"High Rock," I answered as Blanco rose from his bow. The stallion stood quietly as Martin walked around him. He barely flinched when the Septim brushed his mane away from his left shoulder to reveal the elaborate symbol branded just in front of his withers.

"This is the symbol of the Reachmen," Martin murmured wonderingly. "Hmm, this raises many questions." Then he shook himself and turned back to me. "But you've been gone a long time, and look at me, keeping you standing out here in the cold!"

"And it certainly is colder than when I left, Sire!" I complained softly. Martin laughed and stepped toward the Hall.

"Then see to your horse, and join us in the Hall when you're finished!"

Captain Steffan took the heavy bundle from my arms. "I'll take these inside for you. Go." He turned and strode away before I could respond.

I obeyed the tacit command and led Blanco to the stable. As Roliand had said, a stall was prepared in the corner nearest the door. Red pealed a challenge as Blanco entered his stall, but the white ignored the chestnut, his eyes instead on lovely Jasmine. The bay exchanged breaths with him, then shook her head and pinned her ears at his throaty whickers. Blanco accepted the clear rejection with good grace and turned instead to the manger, heaped high with fragrant hay. He began working on the green stems as I stripped the saddle and bridle from him. Quickly I brushed him down, then set the tack on the nearby rack.

"I'll clean the tack, Julian," Roliand said from the doorway. "Best not to keep the Emperor waiting too long."

I picked up the saddlebags and my pack. "Thanks a lot, Roliand. I'll see you later."

Belisarius met me just inside the entrance to the Hall. "They're waiting for you by the fire," he took my personal gear. "I'll just stow these in the barracks for now. There's hot klah waiting."

I looked ahead to the wide hearth. Past Martin's study table, the floor immediately in front of the fire had been cleared, and red marks had been painted on the stones. A shiver passed through me as I recognized some of the more familiar arcane symbols. A magic circle. Martin's making progress. The wrapped gear from Sancre Tor lay on one end of the table nearest the hearth, with Martin, Jauffre and Steffan gathered near it. Baurus stood a few steps behind Martin. The captain poured klah into their cups. As I approached, he filled a fourth mug for me.

"We waited for you," Martin greeted me. I noticed that his demeanor was less that of a humble priest and more of an emperor. "You've been gone a long time, and we've been anticipating your return with -" his gaze drifted around the others with a hazel twinkle, "- no small anxiety."

I hesitated, then moved to the table. The others followed me, Martin and Jauffre standing across from me, and Steffan at my right side. I cupped my hands around the mug the captain handed me and inhaled the aromatic steam appreciatively. "It's been a long time, Sire," I replied. "And there is much to tell. But first," I put my cup down, reached for the bundle before me and flung the blanket back.

Both Jauffre and Steffan inhaled sharply as the brilliant blue and gold enamel of the Blades gear glimmered in the daylight from the clerestory windows above. "This is Valdemar's shield," I touched the deep blue, before I lifted it and handed it to Steffan. The look on his face was full of awe as he examined it closely. "The four Blades that never returned had been cursed to spend eternity as undead bones," I continued. "I had to fight each one of the skeletons before I could complete my task in Sancre Tor. When I shattered their bones, their souls were freed." I stopped, feeling the tears rise up again in my throat.

In an attempt to retain control, I turned my face away from the others and searched in the bundle. Rielus's amulet gleamed a deep, warm gold in my palm and gave me a little bit of comfort. I handed it across the table to Jauffre. "This was Rielus's amulet. He was the first one I met." I told Jauffre what Rielus had told me about the Underking. Jauffre listened in silence, his eyes on the amulet in his hands. "I had to tell him that his Emperor had been dead for nearly four hundred years. He said that did not absolve him of his duty. He made me take this, asked me to either wear it or return it to Cloud Ruler." I touched the round shield, still in Steffan's hands. "Valdemar was next. He was deep in the prison quarter. He told me to take the shield."

I turned back to the bundle and located the ancient katana, recognizable as his by the pattern of wear on the grip. "This is his katana. I promised him it will hang in the Hall of the Blades." I handed it hilt first to Steffan. "And I took Rielus's sword too, for the same reason," I handed the other to Jauffre.

I looked up to see several of the other Blades surrounding us. "Fortis," I reached back into the bundle. "This is Casnar's weapon, Mishaxhi's Cleaver." He paled at my words, but his hands cradled the dai-katana reverentially. "Please see that it takes its place among the other blades," I tilted my head toward the katanas suspended from the rafters. I made certain his partner Pelagius received Alain's Northwind. "They deserve to be remembered alongside their brethren," I turned my gaze back to Martin. "If not for them, I could not have progressed past the barriers left by the Underking. I would not have been able to retrieve this." I placed the armor of Tiber Septim, still wrapped in the waterproof groundsheet, before Martin.

A hushed silence fell over the Hall, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the hearth, when Martin reached for the edges of the canvas. Slowly he unwrapped it. A collective sigh swept around the Hall as the brilliant colors of Tiber Septim's cuirass appeared, sparkling like jewels on the table. Martin stared at it for long moments, then his hazel eyes met mine.

"The blood of the Septims may flow in my veins," he spoke in a hushed tone, "but you have the soul of a hero." His gaze encompassed the Blades gear I had brought back to Cloud Ruler. "While I am not a Blade, I truly appreciate what you have done for Tiber's own Blades."

"We may have been separated by four hundred years," I whispered, feeling the tears surge again behind my eyes. "But they were still my brothers. They have made me proud to be counted as a Blade."

"We always walk the first mile out, and the last mile back," I chided him softly,'
I like Julian's wise warm up/cool down policy. I'm also pleased to see using miles as your unit of measure here.

Fabulous screenshots!

'When I shattered their bones, their souls were freed." I stopped, feeling the tears rise up again in my throat.'
Gosh, I felt that too. I know that was hard on Julian.

A wonderfully fitting 'unveiling' of the Blades' equipment and finally the armor of Tiber Septim. And a very powerful ending. Julian has indeed found a place and group of comrades where she truly belongs.

Nits: Paragraph spacing. The first few paragraphs are normal with a space between each. Then the bulk of the story has two spaces between paragraphs. Interspersed however, are a couple of cases where two paragraphs have no spacing at all between them.

"We waited for you," Martin greeted me. I noticed that his demeanor was less that of a humble priest and more of an emperor. i. "You've been gone a long time, and we've been anticipating your return with -"
It looks like the 'i' is left over from a previous edit?

As far as I could tell, it held no enchantment.
Except of course that whole blood of a god thing...

Again, some good examples of riding skillz, between the warm-up and cool-down times, and of course stabling the stallions. Then Blanco shows that he is still full of surprises. Apparently he is a WitchHorse of the Western Reach after all.

Maybe you should have titled this Homecoming? Julian's return to Cloud Ruler felt more like coming home than when she went to Anvil. I think because Anvil represents a past that she has grown beyond in so many ways, for better and worse. While Cloud Ruler is her future as a Blade, where her new family is: Jauffre, Martin, Caroline, Steffan, etc...

They have made me proud to be counted as a Blade.
Indeed, and now Julian identifies herself as one without hesitation, but with pride instead. I think this one line summed up the emotional impact of her return to Cloud Ruler Temple more than any other.


nits:
"Quite the horse," he remarked. "We had also heard about him, so I've got a stall prepared for him."
I faltered at the thought of Red and Jasmine. "Will Red give us a hard time about Blanco?"
It looks like a hungry horse ate the space between your lines.

I looked ahead to the wide hearth. Past Martin's study table, the floor immediately in front of the fire had been cleared, and red marks had been painted on the stones. A shiver passed through me as I recognized some of the more familiar arcane symbols. A magic circle. Martin's making progress.
The wrapped gear from Sancre Tor lay on one end of the table nearest the hearth, with Martin, Jauffre and Steffan gathered near it. Baurus stood a few steps behind Martin. The captain poured klah into their cups. As I approached, he filled a fourth mug for me.
Between these paragraphs too.

I too liked the off hand riding bits woven into this. There hasn't been anything very 'horsey' for a while, but the equestrian theme continues in the things Julian does and in little details. It works well.

I also agree about this seeming like a homecoming. Cloud ruler is her home now, she might keep a shack on the waterfront but she visits it, it's not her home. The contrast between Cloud Ruler and Anvil Subrosa's already noted worked well. The section in Anvil was melancholy and looked back to a past which she'd lost, her return to Cloud Ruler was the opposite with the memories of things lost replaced with hopes for what was to come.

Though the magic circle is definatly not a good omen.

Love the screenshots!

A Legion forester watched us from his vantage point on a rock-strewn hillock, but did not approach us, though he waved briefly in greeting.

Nice to see a Forester who is not engaged in fratricide. Also a good indicator of the return to civilization. What a great image.

Blanco marched determinedly up the steep road. By now the sun was well past its zenith, and the blue sky shone brightly above. White diamonds sparkled everywhere I looked, and no breeze disturbed the snow on the pine boughs.

I thought this passage was pure magic! I love that part of Cyrodiil, and this is why. Never mind about the extra blankets. Even the weather welcomes Julian back to her CRT home.

"This is the symbol of the Reachmen," Martin murmured wonderingly. "Hmm, this raises many questions."

Indeed! Along with the bracelet and Julian’s family history, the WitchHorse of High Rock will have me impatient for LBMQ.

Red symbols on the floor, probably not a good time to schedule a vacation.

@Acadian: Thanks for picking up Julian's feelings about her adventure in Sancre Tor. It turned out to be more than a 'fetch' quest, didn't it? I think the emotional effects will continue rippling far into the future. Oh, and thanks for the nits. The paragraph spacing was driving me nuts! I C&P from Word on my W7 partition, and it kept messing up the formatting. It's set to single spacing with no automatic spaces between paragraphs, and the forum editor still kept putting extra lines in. And there is no rhyme or reason to all that as far as I can see. So I'm back to posting from the Mac partition.

@SubRosa: I'm not sure that Julian's future is at Cloud Ruler, given what happens after the end of the MQ. But it is a special place. It reminds her of her time as a tiro in the Legion, when home was wherever her comrades were bunked. Only CRT is far more comfortable and luxurious compared to any Legion castrum! Again, thanks for the nits - I missed the first one, and the second is actually a single paragraph. Looks like the hungry horse ate one and shat the other!

@Olen: Thanks for your ongoing endorsement of the equine bits. I really enjoy writing the animal parts, and am looking forward to doing more of them. I can't remember who said it about Paint, but the comment that he is a character in his own right has stuck with me, and I see no reason for other animals to do the same in this story. It's not the first time an animal has claimed a spot on the character list in my stories, and it will not be the last. I'm glad you enjoyed the homecoming, as well.

@Grits: Know what's funny? This is the first time I've gone through the Applewatch area in this particular game, and the two guys hadn't yet encountered each other. I read a very humorous thread on the Unnamed Forum a year or so ago about that. People were coming up with some wild ideas about why the two Foresters are always beating on each other. My favorite is that they were fighting over some hussy in Olaf's Tap and Tavern. And with two votes for WitchHorse of the Western Reach, it seems Blanco now has a unique identity beyond his personality. And no, it's not a good time to schedule a vacation!

The story so far: Julian has reported to Martin and Grandmaster Jauffre after her successful Grand Circuit and foray into the haunted Sancre Tor. She is looking forward to at least a couple of days of R&R among her comrades at Cloud Ruler Temple.

****************************
Chapter 27.2: A Dawn Conversation

They broke camp at first light, before the rising sun could be seen through the canopy of barren trees above them. They used the virgin snow to douse the embers of the fire that had warmed them through the night. Three of them huddled under heavy hooded cloaks and blankets, which did little to shield them from the worst of the cold. The fourth gave no indication of discomfort. He walked about shirtless, and set to the task of saddling his horse with a cheer that the others found disconcerting.

“Come friends,” he said, turning from his labor. He was as large a Nord as had ever ventured out of Skyrim. “Daylight is upon us. If my destiny be to die this day I would not have it take me unawares. If not then I would have the day’s work done so that we may sup in a tavern by the eighth bell.”

“We do not all share your constitution, Valdemar,” said an Imperial with icicles growing in the wispy stubble that lined his cheeks. He shivered under a thick blanket fashioned from the pelt of a grizzly. He blew a plume of cold vapor into morning sky. “This is not how I planned to spend Saturalia.”

A low chuckle emanated from the Redguard sitting next to him. “Whether here or at Cloud Ruler you still would have been cold, Rielus.” He rose and stretched limberness into his frozen limbs. The act lifted him from his blanket and revealed the blue enamel from the armor of Akaviri design that was visible under his cloak.

Rielus looked at the doused embers. “At Cloud Ruler I would be sitting in front of a roaring hearth with a belly full of mutton, Casnar.”

The Redguard laughed again. “Doubtless your feet would be numb and filled with blisters from walking patrol through the night. And your belly would probably be growling with emptiness.”

The Breton beside them stood up and shook free of his heavy blanket. “Need I remind you both of the seriousness of our charge? What needs to be done can not be accomplished with careless hearts.”

“Better careless than cowering, Alain,” said Valdemar. “This marks the third time I have entered those musty halls. I am all for duty, but tempting fate with such recklessness will be my undoing. I still have no idea why the Emperor entrusted this task to us.”

“Perhaps it is your experience with the place that swayed the Emperor’s decision,” said Casnar. “Outside of the departed battlemage there are none who know it better than you and Alain.”

"Would that Master Arctus were still around," said Valdemar, "he might have dissuaded the Emperor from this folly."

"You skirt the edge of treason with your words, Valdemar," said Casnar.

"Is it treason to speak the truth in Tiber Septim's Tamriel? Thanks to Alain whatever debts we owed to the place have long since been paid. Sending us back there only awakens ghosts that are best left slumbering.”

Rielus stood. “I realize that I do not speak with the voice of experience, but I am of the opinion that the dead do not suffer debts upon the living.”

“Perhaps not,” said Alain, “but as long as we draw breath we are compelled to pay respect to those who have passed on.” He lifted the saddle onto the back of his mount and began to secure it. Then he turned to Valdemar. “I share your misgivings, but we are Blades. The Emperor has entrusted us with a solemn duty. I mean to carry it out, or die in the attempt.”

Valdemar laughed and turned toward Rielus. “You see, lad? You would find more success trying to reason with one of the horses. Once Alain has it in his mind to do a thing then the best remedy is to have it done.” He lifted a battered Akaviri Cuirass from a place near the sodden embers and began to struggle into it.

“I must confess that curiosity outweighs fear at what the day has in store for us,” said Casnar. “After so many years of hearing the legends surrounding it I finally get to set eyes upon Sancre Tor. I only hope that the reality lives up to my expectation.”

“A fitting epitaph,” said Rielus. “Here lies Sir Casnar, the reality met his expectation.”

Alain mounted and turned toward the others. “If that is what destiny has in store for us then, as Valdemar said, I suggest we don’t keep her waiting.”

Valdemar took up his shield, thought better of it, and placed it back on the frozen ground.

“She can wait until I’ve broken my fast,” he said.

**************************************************
My breath drifted visibly in the predawn air as I drew the borrowed cloak closer around me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember what it was that had woken me so early with such a strong sense of foreboding. All I know is that the end draws near. But if the end means the crowning of Martin Septim as the Emperor, why do I feel such a sense of dread when I think of him seated on the Ruby Throne?

“Drake for your thoughts, Julian,” the captain’s voice sounded behind me in the predawn light. My shoulders hunched against the cold, I turned to see his silhouetted form join me in the western gate tower. He was bareheaded, his shoulders as broad as ever without the blue-enameled cuirass he always wore on duty.

“You’re up early, sir,” nervously I sent my gaze back to the sky. Overhead, the stars sparkled brightly, as they only do at this altitude.

“You should talk,” Steffan’s tone turned mildly humorous. “I noticed you didn’t sleep well.”

“I’m sorry if I bothered you and the others, sir,” I responded, slipping my hands beneath the fur-lined cloak. Too many things on my mind, now that - dream? vision? - that I can’t quite remember. It’s getting hard to focus on the most important thing - seeing Martin relight the Dragonfires. But what will happen then?

“You were gone a long time.” I sensed Steffan’s head turn to face in the same direction. “We knew you were making progress, for Jauffre spoke to the leaders of each of the reinforcements as they came in to Bruma.” Steffan rocked back on his heels slightly. “Countess Carvain is grateful for the support from her fellow Cyrodiil nobles.” He was silent a moment. “But the reinforcements are not what’s weighing your mind, or, if I may say so, your heart.”

I resisted the impulse to look at Steffan, aware of the warmth emanating off his thinly-clad body. “I learned a lot in the last two months, sir,” I spoke slowly, trying to gather my whirling thoughts into some semblance of order. Where to begin?

“Begin at the beginning,” Steffan suggested. “What did you learn first?”

“I learned how to summon Domina Incendia,” I began. “And how to be - diplomatically patient with young fools, sir.” His chuckle told me Steffan had heard of young Indarys. “If I ever hear Huzzah! again I’ll smack whoever said it.”

“Huz - hmm,” Steffan’s tone held amusement. I shot him a glare, but he kept his gaze on the horizon to the south. Though his mouth remained neutral, I thought I could detect a twinkle in the corner of his eye. I turned back to the view before he met my gaze. “Go on, Julian. I want to hear the rest.”

Do you, really? “I’m not certain what I learned about Count Indarys, sir,” I said after a moment. “He treated me with enough courtesy and respect, but I can’t shake the feeling that he always has an agenda of some kind.”

“House Hlaalu has a reputation for intrigue and devious machinations,” Steffan remarked. “I would be surprised if Indarys was any different.”

“Hmm,” I agreed. “And I learned that there really are all kinds in the Mages Guild, sir, including truly evil folks.” Steffan remained silent as I considered my travels, aware of his presence beside me. “Vampires are sly, cunning, and quite dangerous. If they want to kill you.” I thought of the contrast between Seridur and Count Hassildor. “And I learned how to recognize one. I learned to hate will o’wisps and what they do to horses and other animals.” I stopped, reliving again the horror I experienced trying to undo the damage that ethereal creature had done to my beloved friend.

“If young Indarys taught me how to be diplomatically patient,” I continued when I had control of my voice again. “Then Countess Leyawiin taught me how to be diplomatically angry, sir.”

“It worked,” Steffan said quietly. We stood in silence as the stars faded before the dawn. “And what else, Julian? So far we’ve covered Cheydinhal and Leyawiin.”

“I learned that animals have magicka too, and that was what was wrong with Paint.” I sighed. “Once I understood it, I learned how to restore it.”

“That’s not without significant cost to yourself, isn’t it?” Steffan asked. “You have to drain your own magicka to restore another’s, right?”

“Yes, sir, that was the spell Marz taught me,” I nodded. “I also learned that Count Terentius is up to no good, but there is no evidence to bring him up on charges before the Elder Council. Not yet, anyway.”

“That’s interesting. That brings you to what - Skingrad?” Steffan prompted me after a few moments.

“Yes, sir, and I learned there is a shortage of beds in the Skingrad Mages Guild chapter,” I said. Steffan laughed heartily at the tone in my voice. I tried to frown at him, but ended up chuckling myself. “It wasn’t funny at the time, sir,” I attempted to complain.

“No, I’m certain it wasn’t.” He shook his head, still chuckling.

Momentarily I thought of Hassildor’s vampiric nature, but decided to keep silent about it. “Count Skingrad was the first Count who didn’t hesitate to send help to Bruma. He only wanted to be certain Skingrad would be secure.”

“They’re good men, I hear,” Steffan nodded. “And did you learn anything - constructive at Skingrad?”

“I learned about the doomstones, sir,” I answered. “One of the mages there is very interested in them. I also learned a few more spells, a fireball spell and a shock on touch. I like that second one for the daedra. Seems they’re very sensitive to shock.”

“I take it you put Akatosh’s Fury to good use in the Deadlands?” Steffan’s head turned to me as I nodded. I sensed him turn his gaze back to the horizon. “Good. I’m glad Emperor Martin enchanted that bow with the shock stone.”

I glanced east. The sun had risen just past the tall peak called Gnoll Mountain. The thin mountain air was so cold that the warmth of the sun never touched my face. I shivered again within the cloak, thinking of Anvil. It’s much warmer there. They haven’t had frost yet. The rains won’t come for another month. They’ll still be picking tomatoes and eggplants.

“If you think this is cold, wait another month,” Steffan murmured, his breath now visible in the soft light of early morning. He scraped his fingernails against his five-bells shadow. It was even more pronounced than usual. Is he growing his beard out? He caught my glance and flashed a grin at me. “We’ll stop shaving for the winter - some of us, anyway.” I suppressed a snicker at the unexpected humor. “By the time of the longest night, we’ll be burning firestones in braziers through every bell out here so we can maintain our vigil without freezing. The sun will give off no warmth even at noon, and we’ll be wearing fur under our plate armor.”

“I’m already wearing fur beneath mine, sir!” I muttered, hunching my shoulders. “I don’t think I’ll be leaving the hearth in the Hall of Blades then!” Something stirred in my memory, then drifted away before I could grasp it.

Steffan chuckled, a stream of mist escaping his lips. “Then Anvil was next, right?”

I shivered again, looking down at the roofs of Bruma visible below. The old sadness moved through my core, escaped me in a long exhalation. At my side, Steffan stood silently, gaze on the horizon. After a few moments, his head turned toward me. Quickly I faced east to hide my tears.

“There’s a saying,” his soft voice reached me. “You can’t go home again. It’s true. Two years ago I took leave when my mother passed away. It was so strange walking in my old hometown again after thirty odd years.” Steffan paused. “I can see Anvil was difficult for you.”

“Not as difficult as I had feared, sir,” I found my voice again. “Old friends were still there, and I made new ones.” As I thought of Blanco, of Clesa and Ernest, I found myself smiling again. “I learned it’s possible to domesticate an imp.”

“An imp?” Steffan repeated disbelievingly. “Get out of here!”

“No, sir, seriously,” I shook my head. “One of the mages there found him when he was an injured baby. Thaurron felt sorry for him and healed him. By then the imp had adopted him, so Thaurron trained Sparky how to behave himself.”

“Sparky, huh?” Steffan turned his gaze back to the horizon. “Appropriate name, if you ask me.”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed. “In Kvatch I learned it’s possible to dream the impossible in the face of sheer devastation.”

“They did send a small contingent,” Steffan remarked. “Countess Narina tried to send them back, considering how decimated their guard is, but they refused. Ah, Vonius?”

“Ilend Vonius?” I glanced at Steffan, who nodded.

“Vonius said that no other town should suffer what Kvatch went through. If it’s possible to stop it here, they want to be part of it.” I could hear admiration and respect in Steffan’s tone.

“They’re determined to rebuild and thrive again,” I added. “I believe they will succeed.”

“And Chorrol?” Steffan asked after a few moments. “Did you learn anything there?”

“It’s a beautiful place, sir,” I answered. “And I did learn a few more spells there.”

“And now you have all the recommendations you need to enter the University?” Steffan asked me. I nodded. “Are you going to?”

“Once Martin is crowned Emperor and the Dragonfires are lit.” I studied the White Gold Tower, still shadowed by the eastern mountains. “If Grandmaster Jauffre will allow it, that is.”

“I think he will,” Steffan assured me. “I asked him what his plans for you as part of the Blades were. He said you would be most useful as an agent.”

Why would you ask the Grandmaster about me? Do you want me to stay on here at Cloud Ruler? My thoughts shied away from the implications of a garrison posting under the Captain’s command. “So the Mages Guild would be my cover, sir?” I wondered.

“More than that, Julian,” Steffan turned to face me, leaning against the corner post. Once again I found myself avoiding eye contact. “Each of us are required to have a second profession, one we can take up if necessary. Grandmaster Jauffre’s is as a lay brother of Talos. Roliand’s is as a tanner. Ferrum is a smith.”

I thought about it a moment. “Then Belisarius must be a bookseller.”

Steffan laughed. “Not quite. Historian.”

“And you, sir?”

“Haven’t you guessed by now?” His grin gleamed in the morning light. “Architect,” he finished when I shook my head.

“That’s why you admire Cloud Ruler Temple so much,” I laid my hands on the stone coping in front of me. “I remember what you said about no mortar.”

“Burd told me what you did for Soren at the top of that sigil keep,” Steffan said after a moment. “And you healed Paint yourself as best as you could. I think you should be a healer.”

“So I can either take lives or save them?” I asked. “I’m not certain of that, sir. It feels hypocritical.”

“I’m certain of it.” His tone was emphatic. “I get the sense you’d rather save lives than take them, but out of necessity, you won’t hesitate to take a life if that would mean saving an innocent.”

I stared at White Gold Tower, his words echoing in my mind. After a moment, Steffan stood off the post and clapped me on the shoulder. “Think about it, Julian. And don’t forget to come in and eat something hot!” He turned and walked back to the Hall of Blades.

Something made me turn and watch his departing figure. How did you know I needed someone to talk to? Even though I didn’t tell you everything, I wanted to. Briefly I wondered why I hadn’t. Felen Relas’s words came back to me. “The man you love has to be one you look up to. Not necessarily physically, but in terms of his principles, his ethics. You can’t love someone you don’t respect.”

I respect you, Captain Steffan. But I can’t let myself fall in love with you. Not while I’m your subordinate here at Cloud Ruler Temple. And not while I have this sense of doom hanging over my head.

Now there's a part. The dream is intriguing, I've no idea what it signifies. Possibly just closure on the four, both theirs and hers, but maybe more. They did still want to serve and this could be an interesting addition or diversion from the game plot.


As for the second part... well. I didn't see that coming, Steffan certainly played it close until then. Might this be a direction the sequel will take, and might Steffan be the one.


But once she's working for the guild as the champion... Interesting line though, it very neatly captures the confusion she has over what's important. She watches duty and protocol so closely she keeps forgetting herself. With her past I can see why, but I wonder if this is the next hurdle she will overcome.

Captain Steffan!! After all this time and all these guesses it turns out to be the man almost literally under our noses!! Bravo, hautee. I would not have guessed him in a million years, but it seems so right somehow. I am reminded of Julian’s foray into Bruma after leaving Cloud Ruler that first time. Didn’t she spend some time comparing Burd to Steffan? Now I know why.

I just loved the second part of this chapter! For mALX's sake here’s hoping that Steffan can use the same guile in de-briefing Julian as he did in, well, debriefing her.

Oh, the first part wasn’t bad either.

The flashback to the famous four was fabulous!

"You skirt the edge of treason with your words, Valdemar," said Casnar.'
I really liked the way you phrased this.

A fine review of Julian's world tour!

I think Captain Steffan is a good man and an excellent choice to be in charge of the garrison up at CRT. I see his finer qualities are not lost on Julian; nor hers on him.

I loved the dream. Seeing those four alive together brings Sancre Tor to a close with a warm feeling. Valdemar as the cheerful morning person shirtless in the snow was an unexpected joy. I sure hope he got at least a little breakfast.

Captain Steffan! And he’s an architect! That sounds auspicious. When he gave her that abrupt non-greeting as she returned, I had to think that perhaps he didn’t trust his professionalism at that moment. I noticed he seemed to read Julian’s mind at least four times. I guess he’s been paying attention.

I respect you, Captain Steffan. But I can’t let myself fall in love with you. Not while I’m your subordinate here at Cloud Ruler Temple.

Yeah, good luck with that.

And not while I have this sense of doom hanging over my head.

Oh. Well, when you put it that way… Now I am getting nervous about the Bruma battle.

“Here lies Sir Casnar, the reality met his expectation.”
Sadly, the reality was more than he bargained for. Still, it was a wonderful scene of the fab four preparing for their final mission in Sancre Tor. After seeing them dead for so long, it was nice to get a glimpse of them while blood still flowed in their veins.

The rest of the episode is a nice little recap of Julian's adventures so far. Quick and concise so as to not bore those who have read those chapters, yet at the same time informative for those who are just starting to read OHDH.

“We’ll stop shaving for the winter - some of us, anyway.”
Playoff Beards then? It figures that the Blades would be hockey players, given the location of Cloud Ruler.

You can’t go home again. It’s true.
Indeed. Because while home does not change, you do. You can never find that person you once were when you lived there. Just ghosts of memories.

“If Grandmaster Jauffre will allow it, that is.”
This was a nice touch of reality here. Once Julian joined the Blades, she gave up her right to choose her future. She might be sent to High Rock next week, or to Akavir, and never see Cyrodiil again.

“So I can either take lives or save them?”
There is an old saying: "A Witch who cannot hex is a Witch who cannot heal."

And finally we close with one more tantalizing tidbit of Julian's romantic life. Steffan it is then? Interesting. I was holding out for Countess Carvain, or Caroline. But I suppose I can save that for the slash version...

Finally I catch up only to find I am at the end, YEESH!!!

Haute, I thoroughly enjoyed my time with Julian!!!!!!! She is a wonderful character to get to know.

I have dedicated every spare moment to this story since I read the first words. Julian's story is a wonderful depiction of the growth of a character as the writer expanded her descriptive talent to exponential proportions. Heroes come in all shapes and sizes .....and ages it seems.

Thank you for sharing this wonderful story with me. I do so look forward to the next one, anxious to see what tales our lovely Julian has to share next.

I haved dived into the top of this thread- only to find myself in the midst of the snows and bones...

Will say more when I have read more, but it has been wonderful so far.

@all: Just so you know, that wonderful scene of the Fantastic Four at the beginning of the last post was actually written by none other than Destri Melarg. He sent it to me after the last post of Chapter 26. It fit in so well with what is happening to Julian that we decided to make it a vision that she had. Only thing is, she can't remember it so well, only the feeling of foreboding (since she knew what happened to them). I'm glad everyone enjoyed that glimpse of them alive and together under the banner of the Blades. I am eternally grateful to Destri for letting me borrow his memorable characters Alain and Valdemar, Casnar, and Rielus for this story.

@Olen: You continue to amaze me with your perception of what is really going on in Julian's heart. And Captain Steffan will continue playing it pretty close as best as he can, for he is so much like her regarding romance in the workplace (not a good idea, especially among fellow soldiers - their opinions, which I pretty much understand pretty well). Will things progress from there? That remains to be seen. Julian still has some work ahead of her before she will let herself stop to consider things between her and the good Captain.

@Destri: Hey! That first part was pretty darn good! I had been wondering if anyone would figure out Steffan way back when we were guessing who it was! As I have the de-briefing scene already written out, it's more like Julian takes the initiative and Steffan just goes along with it. Course, you'd have to wait until LBMQ to see it . . .

@Acadian: I'm glad you enjoyed seeing the fab four again. I certainly did. Wish I could take credit for writing that scene, but alas, no. It's all Destri. And let me tell you something - I had admired Savlian Matius and didn't think anyone else could hold a candle to him, but when Captain Steffan made that comment about no mortar between the stones, it made me think of the Incan complex at Sacsayhuaman. I fell in love with him just for that! He is one of the more underutilized NPC's in the game, IMHO.

@Grits: I knew you would love the way Destri portrayed Valdemar - classic Skyrim Nord all the way! As for Steffan's non-greeting, well you may be right about that. Remember the last time she came home, she practically passed out into his arms. Yikes! Thinking back, I think that's when he started losing his grip (yes, our vulpine friend, his GRIP!) where Julian is concerned. As for his psychic abilities, well, after years of leadership, you've gotta have some talent and skill in that area. Concerning the battle of Bruma, you have every right to be concerned.

@SubRosa: It's funny - I was thinking of the habit of my brother-in-law to grow a beard every winter, since he spends so much time outside (originally a pig farm, now in charge of maintenance for a school district), but your comment reminded me of my brother's propensity to grow a beard every time the Cubs have a playoff season (of course, they don't make it quite that far . . . ) It's ironic that Julian should make that comment about taking or saving lives, because that is exactly what we veterinarians do - take lives (mercifully, naturally) or saving them. Does that make us less of healers than MDs? I don't think so, especially since we demonstrate more concern for quality of life, rather than quantity of life. And I'm very sorry to disappoint you. Countess Carvain is a fascinating character, and I understand that you would love to see slash involving her.

@Athynae: So you have caught up? Good for you! By now that's a ton of words (over 300,000 of 'em!), so I applaud you for reading the whoooole thing! As the Main Quest isn't quite over, you still have some more Julian tales to look forward to!

@treydoggie: Ah, my little dachshund, may you enjoy Sancre Tor! It was a challenge to write, simply because I wanted to do justice to Destri's excellent writing. I can never go through that quest again without thinking of Interregnum. I hope you will have more good things to say when you catch up!

The story so far: Julian is back at Cloud Ruler, waiting for her next assignment. She has brought back not only the armor of Tiber Septim for Martin, but also reinforcements for Countess Narina Carvain, whom she has not yet met. Now she returns to training with her comrades.

**********************
Chapter 27.3: Reminiscences

“Stop, stop!” Ferrum put up his left hand in a plea for mercy. I lowered my katana and resisted the impulse to lean on it, gulping down deep drafts of the icy air. Perspiration turned icy on my neck and temples as Ferrum did lean on his weapon, his panting creating a fog between us. “You’ve improved since we last practiced. A lot.”

“Yes, and I didn’t have anything to do,” Fortis complained from the sidelines. “I almost started coaching Ferrum!”

“And I had to shut you up!” Pelagius elbowed him in mock outrage. He eyed me thoughtfully. “You’ve been working hard these past two months. How many Oblivion Gates did you close again?”

“I’m still not where I should be,” I managed to spit the words between gasps. My thoughts returned to the depths of Sancre Tor, and the formidable opponents I had faced within the ruins. “I’m not as strong or as fast as I used to be.”

“I don’t know about that,” Ferrum shook his head. He glanced around the plaza. “Does everyone agree that Julian is faster and tougher than me?” The murmured agreement surprised me, and I looked about us. Somehow during our sparring session, nearly the entire Temple garrison had gathered on all sides of us.

“Are you still doing the Way of the Crane every day?” Cyrus asked from beyond Pelagius.

I nodded. “Almost every morning, when I get up,” I answered. “Otherwise I’m a stiff old woman.”

“I hear you!” Jena exclaimed from Cyrus’s left side. “Especially with this cold!”

“But that’s not what you were doing just now,” Ferrum straightened up off his katana and sheathed it. He peeled his gauntlet off and rubbed at his face. “That’s something different, something I’ve never seen before.”

“The Sunbird Dance?” I asked with a glance at the tall Breton. “It’s similar to the Way of the Crane, but developed for swordfighting.”

“With one sword, without a shield?” Fortis asked me.

“Take this inside,” Steffan’s rough voice interrupted my answer. “Both of you shouldn’t be standing out here.” His blue gaze moved from me to Ferrum. “Baths and dinner first. Then you can explain this newfangled way of fighting to these young bucks, Julian.”

Young bucks? They’re not that much younger than us, Captain. With a sigh I put my own katana away. But you’re right. In spite of the quilted tunic beneath my mail, I was beginning to shiver. “Yes, sir.”

“Follow me, Julian,” Jena gestured toward the eastern wing. “We’ll lock Ferrum out of the armory. He can take his bath in the barracks.”

A few moments later, stripped of armor and sweaty clothes, I leaned back in a deep tub of steaming water set up beside the forge. Jena hung up the mailed cuirass on the stand next to my armory chest. “Think you’re strong enough for the Blades armor?” she mused thoughtfully, her fingers lingering on the blue and gold enamel of another cuirass that hung nearby, the Dragonscale armor that matched her own.

“It’s not as heavy as the Legion armor,” I responded slowly, pulling the steam deep into my chilled lungs with long inhalations. “But I’ve gotten used to the mail, and it’s better suited to the Sunbird Dance.”

Jena seated herself on the bench next to the forge, a whetstone in one hand and my katana in the other. “I heard your report to the Grandmaster,” she murmured, her face averted from me. “What was it like meeting those Blades beneath Sancre Tor?”

“Which ones?” I turned my head on the rolled towel beneath my neck to look at her. “The undead bones or the ghosts?”

Her head bent over my blade, she began running the whetstone along its edge. “Both.”

“The bones were fairly similar to each other,” I closed my eyes at the memory of the combat. “All of them were tough, fast for skeletons, and strong. They were more like living Blades than like your usual shambling bones.”

“As good as Ferrum, or Fortis and Pelagius?”

I opened my eyes and stared at the great beams overhead. “Better.” I sighed. “In all my years in the Legion, I’ve only met one Blademaster. That was Jelin. He was my pilus during my first posting in Valenwood. He’s the one that taught me the Way of the Crane and the Sunbird Dance. Until I came here, I hadn’t met anyone that came close to Jelin.”

The whispering of the whetstone ceased. “And how do we compare to Jelin?”

“The Blades way of fighting is different from the Legion,” I thought it over for a few moments. “More suited for close quarters combat between individuals than as part of a cohort. Yet it is more like the Legion style than the Sunbird Dance Jelin taught. So in your own way, all of you are as good as he was.”

“So the undead bones were better than Jelin, too?” Jena resumed her sharpening of my katana.

“Yes, and no,” I began lathering the soap into the sponge between my hands. “They fought better than I’ve ever seen Jelin fight, but then -“ I paused, lost in thought. Jena sat silently, her gaze on the blade resting across her thigh. I began sponging the itchy perspiration off my body. “I’ve never seen Jelin at his best. And what he taught me stood up well to those bones. Still, it took all I had to defeat each one of them.”

“Maybe it was just as well that you did the -“ Jena tipped her gaze upwards. “What did you call it? The Grand Tour of Cyrodiil first. Closing all those Gates must have made you stronger and tougher.”

I looked down at myself. She’s right. My muscles are more defined than they were two months ago. I’m not skinny anymore. Just lean and wiry and strong. No wonder Frederick commented on it when I last saw him. “It’s not a course of conditioning I would recommend to anyone, though,” I squeezed the lather out of the sponge and began rinsing myself off. Dunking my head beneath the surface, I ran my fingers through my long hair. Should I cut it? I used to keep it short under the helm, but I haven’t worn one since I left the Legion. When I surfaced for air, Jena handed me a small bottle.

“It’s a conditioner to detangle long hair,” she remarked. “I’ve had it since I left home.” She flipped her own jaw-length black hair back over one ear. “But I’ve not needed it.”

The small amount I poured out into my palm gleamed a pearlescent green in the firelight. The fragrance that met my nose made me think of bergamot, balsam, and lime. “This reminds me of Anvil,” I murmured.

“That’s why I thought you might like it,” Jena smiled at me. “My father was a merchant, he did a lot of trading along the Gold Coast into Hammerfell. As a matter of fact, I grew up in Rihad.”

“That’s funny,” I ran the balm through my long tresses. “I’m a Redguard, but I grew up in Anvil, an Imperial city. And you -“

Jena chuckled. “Yes, you’re right, it’s ironic. Would you say we grew up in the wrong cities?”

I shook my head. “Anvil’s pretty much my hometown,” I rinsed the conditioner from my scalp and hands. “I’m certain Rihad’s that for you.”

Jena held up a large bath towel for me as I rose from the tub. Using the edges of my palms to scrape the water from my skin, I accepted the absorbent cloth from her.

“And what were the ghosts like?” She turned away and shook out a warm felt skirt, dark green in color. “Were they heroic?”

“Heroic?” I repeated. “No more than I. They were Blades, sworn to the first Septim. They honored their oaths to the end.” My skin toweled dry, I accepted the skirt from her and stepped into it. “Just as Captain Renault and Glenroy have done.” Jena met my gaze as she shook out a dark brown woolen tunic. “Just as Baurus, Grandmaster Jauffre, Captain Steffan and every one of you here at Cloud Ruler Temple intend to do.”

The thick soft cloth shrouded my shoulders as I wrapped the shirt around my body. Its long folds fell to my hips, adding warmth to my skin. Jena nodded in approval as I tied the sash about my waist. “Yes, you’re right, Julian,” she picked up the conversation. “All of us intend to honor our oaths to the Dragonblood to the end.” Her dark eyes turned somber. “Whatever that end may be.”

“We will restore Martin Septim to the throne,” I put conviction I did not quite feel into my tone. “And he will relight the Dragonfires. No more Oblivion Gates will open, no more daedra will threaten our people, no more Kvatches will happen.”

“You’re right again, Julian,” Jena responded. She held out the leather cord I used to tie my hair back. I shook my head.

“My hair will dry faster if it’s unbound,” I took it anyway, wrapping it around my right wrist.

“That’s a lovely bracelet,” Jena gestured toward the silver circlet on my left. “I don’t remember seeing it before.”

“A friend of my mother’s gave it to me when I was in Anvil.” Felen Relas’s crimson eyes surfaced briefly in my memory. “It is all I have left of her.” This and memories. I closed my eyes and saw her once again in her garden, looking toward the harbor, the bracelet glinting off her right wrist. And whatever that was - a vision? Dream? Jena remained silent, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

You really capture the cold majesty and warm camaraderie of Cloud Ruler Temple here.

I loved the hair conditioner!

Nice that you tied how the fab four served their Emperor into the fact that the current Blades similarly serve their Emperor - and the determination with which they intend to see him take his place.

“A friend of my mother’s gave it to me when I was in Anvil.” Felen Relas’s crimson eyes surfaced briefly in my memory. “It is all I have left of her.” This and memories. I closed my eyes and saw her once again in her garden, looking toward the harbor, the bracelet glinting off her right wrist. And whatever that was - a vision? Dream? Jena remained silent, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
This passage made for a beautiful ending. I greatly admire your wording in the bolded sentence.

A wonderful beginning, showing us not only the camaraderie of the Blades, but also how Julian is a part of that camaraderie.

Then we move to some nice, quiet girl-talk with Jena. It is nice to see that Julian still is a girl under all that armor and soldierly exterior. Such an irony that the two women grew up in the opposite cities from what you would expect for their races.

The fragrance that met my nose made me think of bergamot, balsam, and lime.
But not quicklime I hope! Although Julian with "hard hair" would be a sight to see!.

Yet more evidence of the blademaster she has become, now she's giving lessons. I still suspect that she'll need every bit of that skill when the time(s) comes. It makes the crisis seem rather more critical and the hero more heroic if it takes a genuinely skilled person along with luck and circumstance to lead against it. Another edge of realism came in them being told not to stay outside in the cold after exercise (I hope they warmed down properly ).

The bath scene was well done, conditioner. Makes sense I suppose.

I like these interaction parts, I think they're my favourite bits from a very good selection here.

Nope, sorry . . . just can't let this one go. As far as I'm concerned they are your characters just as much as they are 'mine.'

To quote mALX:
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!!!!!!!!!!!

It seems like you covered everything in this chapter. There was sword-play for all of us stunted adolescents, and there was a hot bath and conditioner for the grown-ups! All that was missing was a hearty meal for Acadian, but I guess you can't have everything.

I don't think I have ever spoken to Jena in the game. Is she really from Rihad or was that something that you decided?

I love the way Julian explains the Blades at Sacre Tor and their abilities as well as their honor, but never takes anything away from the Blades she has come to know and love. They are different but the same, hehe. (I always kind of tilt my head with that comment but in this case it fits so very well) Thank you for yet another loverly wonderful scene.

And life has taught me that to a degree anyone can get back in shape and take on the world. Maybe that is one of the many reasons I really like Julian. That and I also like unconventional heroes, and kicking young peoples egoes-er I mean butts.

“Yes, and I didn’t have anything to do,” Fortis complained from the sidelines. “I almost started coaching Ferrum!”

This says it all!! Yay Julian. How wonderful to see the measurable changes in her.

“Follow me, Julian,” Jena gestured toward the eastern wing. “We’ll lock Ferrum out of the armory. He can take his bath in the barracks.”

Woo hoo, girl talk!! Well, mostly talk of armor, fighting, and physical conditioning, but after all these are Knight Sisters. At least Julian got her hair conditioned. Jena has a lovely touch here, easing Julian back into company without prying.

Now heading in to dinner in a skirt with her hair unbound. It will be nice while it lasts.

@Acadian: Back among the Blades, Julian wasn't about to let go of the four! It makes me happy that you caught the link between the Fab Four and the present-day Blades Julian is spending time with. Honestly, I was thinking of Buffy when I wrote the conditioner part. Thank you for your endorsement of the final paragraph. I had not been happy with the way it ended, and just as I posted, I changed the last sentence into something a little more bittersweet. It seems that my last-minute change made a world of difference.

@Sage Rose: I thought you would like the girl-time. It was nice for Julian too, to relax and let go of her pilus persona for a while. Of course, once she joins the University, moments like this will be more frequent as we get to see the academic side of her more often.

@Olen: It seems I enjoy writing these bits of interaction as much as you appear to enjoy reading them. I know from your own writing that we share the same view that writing dialogue and interaction is essential to character-driven fiction.

@Destri: Let's agree that the Fab Four are 'ours' and leave it at that. OMG, you just reminded me that I haven't fed Acadian in a looooong time! He must be starving by now! I'm surprised he's still with us on this journey. I'm going to have to feed him soon. Not this post, but the next. As for in-game Jena, she never says much - not a conversationalist at all. She certainly doesn't enlighten the player about herself. So the fact that she grew up the daughter of an Imperial merchant in Rihad is creative license on my part.

@Athynae: That makes two of us! Yup, kicking young people's egos can be quite fun, especially the arrogant ones who think the world revolves around them. Julian tried to hide how much the Fab Four affected her, but I think the others picked up on that, and respect her all the more for it. I know Captain Steffan certainly does!

@Grits: You and many others have picked up on how much Julian has regained her fighting trim during her long Grand Circuit. That was the purpose of the sparring match between her and Ferrum. Julian still insists that she needed the practice, but I don't think Ferrum agrees! And it's nice when Julian agrees to let her hair down.

After a day of training and relaxation, Julian finds out a little bit more of the past, and more of her future.

******************************
Chapter 27.4: Ancient History

“So this Sunbird Dance isn’t any particular style of combat?” Ferrum shook his head. “Then what’s there to study and master?”

The fire crackled as the other Blades turned their gazes to me. We sat gathered before the wide hearth, passing around the klah pot. Though I could not see them, I was aware of Grandmaster Jauffre and Captain Steffan’s presences in the shadows beyond the ring of off-duty soldiers. Cyrus and Belisarius sat side by side opposite me, with the big Redguard tending the fire to keep it hot. Beyond them, I could see Baurus’s eyes glimmering on the edge of the firelight from his place behind Martin’s shoulder.

The new Emperor sat quietly, his hands empty for a change. His gaze rested sightlessly on the fire. Again the gauntness in his face struck me. Is he still having nightmares of Kvatch? I recalled what Matius had said to me that evening at the base of the mesa. “I don’t think about it when I’m up there, but at night, when I’m trying to sleep -“ For a brief second my own nightmares fought their way to the surface of my consciousness, and I fought them back with a sip of the strong klah.

“The Sunbird Dance is more a state of being than a style of fighting,” I returned to the present. “It’s about the dance with your opponent, making your opponent into your partner.”

“Isn’t the sunbird a real bird?” Jena asked from her place a few seats away. “I recall hearing something about it when I was growing up.”

I nodded. “Jelin told me about it. It’s a small, reclusive bird that lives in the foothills between the deserts of Hammerfell and the Dragontail Mountains,” I paused to search my memory. “It’s sighted only during mating season, when the males fight for territory and females.”

“A martial art discipline named after an invisible bird?” Fortis repeated incredulously. “Why?”

“I recall reading something about that somewhere,” Belisarius leaned forward, cupping his mug in his dark fingers. “The females claim the territory, and the males have to not only fight each other for it, but also impress the female owner.” He met my gaze across the hearth. “But like Fortis, I don’t understand the application to a martial arts discipline.”

“Part of the reason they’re so hard to find the rest of the year,” I nodded at him, “is because they stay hidden. And they’re capable of mimicry. They can not only accurately sing the song of any other bird in their area, but also the sounds other animals make. If a predator gets too close to their nests, they can mimic the sound of a prey animal to lure the predator away. Or they will mimic the sound of a Mad Hoosa.”

“A mad what?” Pelagius repeated. Jena glanced at me.

“I thought those were just mythical?” she muttered, turning her gaze back to her mug.

“Apparently not,” I answered. “Jelin swears he saw one when he was a child in Sentinel. Barely escaped with his life.” I shrugged. “A Mad Hoosa is a creature of nightmares, it seems. I’m not sure what to make of the descriptions.”

“A body of a thick snake,” Jena murmured, her voice barely audible above the crackling of the flames. “Arms and breasts of a woman. Head of a reptile - not Argonian but rather an ancient desert reptile. Tentacles springing from the back of the head.” Her fair skin colored slightly as she kept her eyes downcast. “My Alik’r nanny used to threaten us with the Mad Hoosa if we didn’t go to bed and stay in bed at the proper time.”

“Plenty of strange creatures live in the provinces,” Belisarius mused thoughtfully. I nodded agreement. I had seen my share in Valenwood and Skyrim.

“So the birds are great mimics,” Fortis turned back to me. “But how does that translate to martial arts?”

“Sunbirds have a high degree of adaptability to any given situation,” I answered. “When the males compete for a mating territory, they typically use the fighting tactics of other birds. They can and will switch styles very quickly, and the opponents adapt to each other. The victor is the one who has the ability to adopt the most different ways of bird fighting. They can fight like eagles, like swallows, like gulls, and so on.”

“Ah, now I understand,” Fortis rocked back on the stool, his eyes lifting to the ancient blades hanging overhead. “Like the sunbirds, a master of the Sunbird Dance can adapt to his opponent.”

“Exactly,” I nodded. “Jelin was a Blademaster. He could fight with blunt weapons, with a sword and shield, with a sword only, or with a two-handed claymore. He trained me in all of these weapons. I’m not the master he was, but I have him to thank for my survival. Otherwise, it would be my bones lying at the bottom of Sancre Tor, instead of Rielus’s and the others.”

“You’re not a master?” Ferrum pointed at me, disbelief in his eyes. “Could’ve fooled me!” I felt the heat in my cheeks at the chorus of agreement that rippled around the hearth.

Once more I found myself telling them about the four Blades I had met beneath the crumbling ruins of Sancre Tor. I answered their questions as best as I could. For the most part they were interested in the different combat techniques each Blade had used, and how I had managed to counter them.

Finally I stopped speaking, my voice hoarse. The group fell silent, each lost in his and her own thoughts. After a few moments, the others began drifting away, most headed for bed, though a few headed out to suit up for night duty. A voice murmured into the crackling silence. I looked up at Belisarius, still seated beside the fire.

“Rielus was a spearman,” his tone remained soft. “He knew Legion tactics, especially those of the hastati. Yet when he joined the Blades, he learned the Akaviri sword fighting and quickly mastered it.” He met my gaze across the hearth. “He became the first Captain of the Imperial Guard.”

I stared at him. “You knew their history?”

“After you came back,” Belisarius shrugged, “Captain Steffan and I looked them up in the archives. Alain was from High Rock, and Valdemar was Skyrim-born. They were at the battle of Sancre Tor, and fought against Tiber Septim when he took the city. Yet a few years later, they swore allegiance to him after they found and killed the traitor that betrayed their comrades to Talos’s army.”

I recalled something Casnar’s spirit had said of them. “They always fought side by side, I heard,” I offered. Belisarius nodded.

“They were known to be inseparable in battle,” he added. “And Casnar was a Knight of the Moon in Stros M’Kai before Tiber Septim assimilated Hammerfell. He saved Cyrus from his fellow Knights after Cyrus killed his own brother-in-law.”

I inhaled sharply at the mention of my childhood hero. “Yes, I remember the stories, but I didn’t know it was Casnar who saved him -“ Now I begin to understand why Casnar seemed relieved of his guilt when I spoke of Cyrus and modern Hammerfell’s relationship with Cyrodiil.

Belisarius smiled, but I could see sadness in his dark eyes. “Now do you know the kind of men you freed from eternal slavery? There’s not a single one of us who doesn’t appreciate what you did for our long-lost brothers.”

“I haven’t been one of you for long,” I set my mug down on the table next to me. “And I’ve spent more time away than I have here since. But I couldn’t help but consider them my brothers too.”

Belisarius rose to his feet, stretching his spine. He gathered the few remaining mugs and the empty klah pot. “You have been our sister ever since you first arrived here with Emperor Martin in tow.” He nodded respectfully at me. “You’ve brought nothing but honor to us, especially after the death of the old Emperor.” He bowed to Martin before leaving the hearth.

As Belisarius disappeared into the kitchen with the mugs and pot, Martin stood up and turned back to his table. I caught his signal and followed him.

The Xarxes lay before him on the rough wooden surface, parchment sheets covered with cribbed notes covering its open pages. Relieved that I wouldn’t have to look at that ominous daedric script, I sat down across from him as he selected a sheet from the pile and scanned it.

Julian and Martin

“I’ve figured out the next item I need for the ritual,” his hazel eyes darkened in the soft light from the lamps surrounding the table. Something in his voice told me I had another difficult mission ahead. He laid the sheet before me. “A Great Welkynd Stone.”

I glanced up at him. “I’ve heard of Welkynd stones, but I don’t know what they are,” I murmured, turning back to the parchment. A sketch of some sort of compound covered its surface, with arrows and notes. Ra’sava Camp off to the south. Kvatch to the west. Skingrad to the southeast. Wait, is this -? I recalled what Tilmo had once told me of the sprawling Ayleid ruin that lay north of the Gold Road. “Adventurers have gone in there seeking treasure, but none have come out. Likely the old traps still work, and the guardians still walk the halls.” I managed to stifle the shudder as I looked back up at Martin.

“Yes, Welkynd stones are said to be fragments of meteoric glass, fragments of Aetherius.” He picked up a smaller tome and handed it to me. I glanced at the spine. Magic from the Sky. “Welkynd is Ayleid for ‘Sky Child.’ The stones are pieces of enchanted meteoric glass which store magical power. You can use them to recharge your Magicka if you are depleted.” He smiled at my wince. “Of course, if you use one, it is destroyed in giving up its magic.”

“And the Great Welkynd Stone?” I set the book down on the table. “What makes it special?”

“It is considered the pinnacle of Ayleid magic,” Martin leaned his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers in front of his face. “Once every Ayleid city had its own Great Stone. But they’ve all been plundered. All but one.” Now he gestured at the rough sketch in my fingers. “The Great Stone of Miscarcand is reputed to still shine in the deep darkness of its ruins. But no one has ever seen it and lived. It is said to be guarded by the spirit of the last king of Miscarcand.”

My heart sank. “Do you require me to go into that ruin and find it?”

A pained flicker moved through his steady gaze. “I could send one of the others,” Martin mused. “But none have the experience in dark places that you have.”

“Not Ayleid ruins,” I shook my head. “I’ve only been in one.” Telepe. And that was a tiny one.

Martin nodded. “I know I’ve asked a great deal of you, my friend,” he lowered his hands and spread them expressively over the books piled on the table. “You’ve done so much since you brought me here. Don’t think me unappreciative of what you’ve accomplished, Julian.”

“I made a promise to your father,” I swallowed against the grief that knotted my throat. “I will see you light the Dragonfires again.” I shook my head in emphasis. “I will not stop until that happens. If you say you need me to go to Miscarcand,” this time the walnut was from fear, but I choked it down anyway. “If you need me to go to Miscarcand, I will go there and find this Great Stone.”

“I know you’ve seen and braved many dangers since you left my father,” Martin reached across the table and laid his hand on my left forearm, his fingers covering the faded tattoo beneath my woolen sleeve. “And I know the Dragon has been with you the entire time, just as he was with you in the Legion.” He gave my arm a firm squeeze for emphasis. “But Miscarcand is not to be taken lightly. Be careful.”

Good part, the explaination of the Sunbird Dance worked well to show how she's become comletely accepted into the blades. Her rank seems rather uncertain, but she has respect and I think she'd agree that it's worth far more. The extra links to Destri's piece were a nice touch, doing it as a history was pefect.

And already Martin has the next mission. Makes me wonder what the rest are doing (and why captain Steffan hasn't seen this ideal opertunity to offer his assistance ). Still she certainly knows her stuff and if anyone can do it alone it will be her, though I get the feeling she isn't that keen on the idea.

Nit:
“They always fought side by side, I heard,” I offered. - The 'I heard, I offered' was a little jarring when I read it.