Well there is Daria's smoking gun destruction staff. Sydna is throwing around the Tong's name without their knowledge or consent. Granted, these thugs that she only seems barely able to control still make her dangerous. But it is something that Daria can use as leverage against her.

Oh boy, Sydna's dogs have slipped their leash. They are blackmailing her! Now that is delicious! She got a lot more than she bargained for with her dalliance with the dark side.

Uh oh, looks like Synda's viperous tongue has prompted one of the wannabe tongers to kill her, or nearly so.

Betrayed by Red Mountain's ash! Well, I guess that prompted Daria to do the right thing after all. Whatever right is in these circumstances As I recall, Mr. DeMartino is down the street. Time for Chekov's HISTORY teacher to come off the wall and GO off...

It looks like Mr. DeMartino is set to take out a lot of bundled up rage on these to gang-bangers! Oh boy, does he have a lot of that!

Rage taken out. Daria probably made his year.

And Daria is still playing it circumspect, keeping herself out of it entirely. Which is probably the most prudent decision. In the very least, Synda is not going to be a threat to her any longer.

Oh man, so Sydna is here. So it sounds like Sydna's in a bit of a bind, herself. She's not associating with the Tong, but she is being blackmailed by Rough Voice, who is threatening to tell the Tong if Sydna screws up. Still though. What does any of this have to do with Sydna siccing some ruffians on Daria?

Okay, I get it now. So Daria's been living in fear all this time, basically over nothing. Getting beat up by the ruffians sounds like a one-time event, which has nothing to do with what Sydna's got going on at all. Think I got it.

See in a way it's good I haven't seen the Daria episodes yet, maybe I would know what's to come if I had. And right now I'm digging the mystery.

What's happening? Sounds like Sydna's been poisoned.

Yes exactly. She should run back to her TEACHER who TALKS like THIS. Now that I've seen him in the show (in the vid Rosa linked) I know he's sort of a tough guy. In fact, he seems to be based on the Sargeant from Beavis & Butthead. That Sarge was their gym teacher as I recall.

Whoa. Todis is down. Holy [censored].

As intense as this scene is, I can't help chuckling whenever the TEACHER says something. The MORE he has to say the HARDER I chuckle!

On the other hand, I wonder how this is going to turn out. Sydna's been rescued. I wonder if she'll somehow learned how.

=----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

House of Leaves, I wonder if I can find that at my local bookstore. What you are describing sounds like that one 'chapter' in the Christian bible with just two words: Jesus Wept. ⛪ Not that I'm a Bible Thumper, but that's one of those things where you definitely notice the author(s) wanted to draw the reader's attention in a different sort of way. I just notice these things since I've been writing near-weekly during these last 10 years.

I'm not sure if we get Paramount. I personally only have Hulu and Nexflix on my computer but my housemate has 1000 channels for the main house TV, most which never get watched, of course. But hopefully one of these is Paramount. If I can't find Daria there, perhaps somebody has organized all her episodes on YouTube.

Ooh, hey can you link me to those Tamriel Rebuilt tutorials?

The name of your favorite film is Brick?

Check Netflix for the Daria show. They used to have it. It might still be on there.

Chapter 6

Soot still smeared the sky the next day, the sun shining weakly through the lingering haze. Daria sat on the short adobe wall around Jane's balcony, warming her hands with a cup of trama root tea. Jane, sitting cross-legged on a worn rug, listened as Daria told her of the night's events.

"What gets me," Daria said as she finished the story, "is that Synda was probably right. It's not like Todis was even a Camonna Tong member. Just a grunt who did some work for them. If it had come down to Synda's word against his, the tong would have probably gone after him more than her."

"So why did she keep going along with it?" Jane asked.

"She was probably scared. I have to admit, part of me sort of respected her when I heard her tell him off."

"It was good of you to tell Dimartani about her. But, and I hate to say this, just because you save someone's life doesn't mean they'll be grateful later."

"Oh, I know," Daria said. "I don't think Synda ever knew I was there, and Dimartani won't mention my involvement."

"Good. Sounds like it's all wrapped up, then."

"So it seems." Daria looked out onto the grimy street below, where the crowds parted to make way for a netchiman prodding his floating herd to the market.

She turned her gaze back to Jane. "Another thing that bothers me is that I wasn't trying to save Synda's life," Daria said. "All I did was cough at the wrong, or right, moment."

"What do you think you would've done if you hadn't coughed?" Jane asked.

Daria thought about it for a bit. Then she shook her head. "I don't know. But it's not like I'd have jumped in to save her. I'd have probably run off."

Jane nodded. Then she shrugged. "Way I see it, Synda should be thankful she was saved at all. That's a lot more than most people get in this world."

"I guess you're right."

*********

Synda tried to groan, but only produced a raspy wheeze. She lay on a narrow cot somewhere inside the Balmora temple. The priests had closed her wounds, but it'd take a while for her body to truly heal.

She hoped it wouldn't.

Synda knew how to lie—truth is a small price to pay for honor, as the saying went—but she could not concoct any lie that convincingly explained her presence in a dreary Labor Town tenement at midnight. To think that the night had once seemed a safer option! The priests had already informed her family. One of the servants, probably Eldras, would fetch her before the day's end. Mother and father would be home waiting, eyes cold and voices cruel, to tear her apart in search of the truth.

She deserved this, though. She should never have caved to Todis's blackmail. Dunmer did not shrink from threats. No, they reached out and ended them. Synda's mistake had been in waiting too long to do that. Her ancestors had not struggled for so many centuries, through ash and fire and salt, for her to be a coward.

Synda closed her eyes and took deep breaths. She would not cry in the house of her gods. But the consequences of her error would last a lifetime. Synda had stolen from her father, and he was sure to put two and two together and find out. All because she'd tried to put that outlander in her place.

It was hard to recall the night clearly. She remembered the shock of the knife plunging into her side, the horrible pain that hit a few seconds later, and the warmth of blood soaking her clothes. Then Dimartani carrying her through the nighttime streets, and the priests taking her in.

But she knew Daria had been there. She'd heard the outlander's voice and glimpsed her strange glass-covered eyes. From the snatches of conversation she still remembered, Daria had been the one to tell Dimartani of Synda's whereabouts.

The cruelty of the Imperials knew no bounds. Daria must have known that death was preferable to shame, so she'd spared Synda to inflict more pain.

"Damn you."

Better for Synda to be dead, her thrice-blessed ashes sent to Holy Necrom, and her soul accepted by the sacred ancestors, than to stand in judgment before her parents.

The tears got the better of her and she wept, pain wracking her body with each sob.

Mom had once told her that Dunmer mothers had to be cruel, because only strong children survived in Morrowind. But, she'd said, with a rare softness in her voice, there was always one mother with kindness to spare.

Synda looked through tear-filled eyes at the triolith standing in the corner of the room, bathed in candlelight and honoring the Tribunal's gods. Of those three, Mother Almalexia was who she needed.

"Oh, Mother Alma," she uttered, suddenly feeling tiny in the presence of one so much greater than herself. "Please keep me safe."

Musical Closer - Piano and Sax Montage from Halo: ODST, assembled by Maqsimous

The End

Looks like things are going back to normal in Daria's world, with her being the accidental and reluctant heroine, and kicking back with Jane.

So Sydna is licking her wounds, thinking about how much trouble she is in with her parents. Oh boy, she does know that Daria was involved. That probably means she will continue to be a thorn in the Morgendorferr's side. But at least no longer one with street thugs to back her up. Who knows, her parents might even send her off to a convent temple, whatever they do in Morrowind to rich kids who act up too much.

Jane’s reaction to Daria’s adventure is just what I’d expect.

Enlightening to get inside Synda’s head for a bit. So through her wounded hazy memories, she realizes Daria was there and helped save her. Interesting how she translates that into ‘Damn you’ for saving her – death before dishonor and such. I hope that since her mental gymnastics took her that direction that they also take her to the conclusion that Daria outsmarted, outpranked and outclassed her. And maybe Synda will back off. . . though I’d bet (a lot) against that.

I like that image: the Netchman moving pet netches through town. But yeah, that is true. If it wasn't for Daria getting momentarily choked up on soot who knows what would've happened to poor Synda? Ha. Look at me calling her "poor" now. Just last week I was hoping she'd drown or get offed somehow.

Oooh, so now we get the instigator's view on all this.

HOly [censored]. She thinks it'd be better if she were killed???

Today's music outro does really fit. What a horrible set of thoughts she's dealing with.

------------------------------------



Oh yeah, I know what you're saying. Just give me time. Daria's not on Netfix anymore, but she is in YouTube, through Paramount Plus. Those episodes cost money though, just under a hundred bucks if we buy all five seasons at once. That ain't gonna happen for me, so I'll need to see if my roomie's TV has Paramount Plus.

Thanks much for the links to the Tamriel Rebuilt site. Annnd *bookmarked*. Thing is, I don't want to learn how to make quests for Morrowind yet; it'd become too tempting to make changes whenever I get back into Joan's game, and I want to keep all of that 'pure' as I'm writing up dialog and such.

Maybe I can check out Brick this weekend.

Episode 19: The Salt in Our Stars

Synda Grilvayn followed her parents down High Town's broad streets, beneath the strings of yellow lanterns and past the fountains whose turbid waters caught the lanterns' light. The spring air was warm and balmy with the stars shining bright in the soft darkness, untouched by dust or ash.

A perfect night, in other words, for St. Roris's Feast. Outlanders at least understood that this night was not for them. She saw only a few, those too mired in Great House Hlaalu to be easily shunned. Dunmer walked all around her, voices stern but calm in observance of the festival. Not long ago, she'd have felt at home. This was her birthright, after all. The very thing St. Roris had died to protect. A world of order and grace beneath the guidance of the Three.

"And the ending of the words is ALMSIVI," she muttered, in the Tribunal's honor.

She wanted to hide, even though no one beyond her family knew she'd given her father's wealth to criminals to cover up her own foolishness. Her mother's words from the awful morning after still echoed:

"It would have been better for us if they'd killed you!"

Synda closed her eyes and gulped as her body shook. If only Todis had aimed his knife a bit better. If only Daria hadn't been so cruel as to save her. No doubt that the outlander bitch relished Synda's pain as payback. But it was already done. Synda's sin forever stained her in the eyes of her parents. All she could do was keep going. One foot in front of the other, she reminded herself. As surely as her ancestors followed St. Veloth to Resdayn, certain of their purpose. She bound her body to her will, ignoring the fear and the pain, as her forefathers had.

And she walked, as graceful and fearless as any young lady ought to be. But it was getting harder.

"Muthsera Grilvayn," came the greetings, voices low and rough as Father passed by his acquaintances and friends. Her mother stood close behind him, proud in that effortless way unique to the Dunmer.

Synda shivered and hugged herself, wanting to feel her hands against her arms, to feel something soft to cushion her from the world.

"Synda, you're trembling!" her mother hissed.

"Forgive me, Mother. It's cold."

"Nonsense. It's a warm spring evening," Mother said, her words slow and heavy. "The finest families of Balmora are out tonight. You must not show weakness."

"I will not—"

"You already are. This is a chance for you to begin your redemption. Do not shame us again by making a fool of yourself!"

"You better not!" chimed Salyn, her younger brother.

Synda waited until her mother's attention turned to Nerlo Andrana, who'd come up to offer his greetings, and scowled at her turned back. The mere act felt like a strike of lightning: quick, hot, and painful. She'd done it all the same. Yes, mothers in Morrowind had to be cruel. But Synda was tired of cruelty.

The street opened up into the vastness of Brindisi Plaza, the central hub of High Town. Imported plane trees, slender and stunted from the bad air, spread paltry limbs laden with more yellow lanterns. At the center stood the great fountain, carved into the likeness of a rearing shalk beetle, with water spouting between stone mandibles.

Five wooden statues of St. Roris, each twice as tall as a man, had been carted out to receive the adoration of the faithful. Silk-robed merchants and bureaucrats knelt before the four statues showing Roris in the agonies of his martyrdom and left their offerings of spice and gold at the fifth statue of Roris standing in calm and placid glory, his shoulders draped with garlands of willow anther and translucent coda flowers.

At least this place offered distraction.

"Ah, Muthsera Grilvayn," came a voice. "We were expecting you."

"We are little without the saints," Father said, "and nothing without the gods."

Like the others, the Grilvayns went from statue to statue. First, to Roris bound in thorned vines. Second, to Roris pierced by poisoned darts. Third, to Roris with limbs wrenched and broken. Fourth, to Roris flayed by Argonian claws. His face stayed the same through each ordeal: peaceful and certain of his sainthood. A reminder that Dunmer never shrank from pain or hardship.

Except Synda was a Dunmer and she had.

Her heart trembled as she looked into Roris's painted wooden eyes. Most likely imported wood, she realized, having somehow never thought of it before. But so what? Taking things from outlanders was fine, so long as those things were properly used. It was the Hlaalu way: canny and pragmatic.

They reached the fifth statue to deliver their offerings. Synda waited for her parents to place gold and glass in the brass bowls set before the statue and then placed her own gift, a bundle of precious jewels she'd spent the last week purchasing. Mother had lent her money to buy the jewels, but with high interest. There would be no more gifts for Synda after what she'd stolen. Each holy day pulled her further into debt, for one of her station had no choice but to give, and she had no money or gifts of her own nor any respectable way to attain things of value.

She needed to escape her family.

Having completed the ritual, her parents spoke with the others gathered there that night. Servants and low-ranking agents walked in and out of the festival kitchens with bundles of marshmerrow and pots of shein. Her brother kept close, her mother's hand gripping his shoulder as if to keep him from drifting too far. He'd not failed them. Yet.

She spotted Satheri standing next to one of the tortured statues, her left hand clasping St. Roris' robe, her lips unsteady and her eyes sad as she looked upon his pain. A few feet away, Serjo Briltasi Talori gossiped with some other highborn girls, her outlander stepmother standing next to her and having the gall to pretend like she knew what was going on. Muthsera Lli flitted from group to group like a skyrender that ate praise instead of flesh, indifferent to the outlanders she educated. Or pretended to educate.

The other great houses thought Hlaalu soft. Maybe they were right, with so many Hlaalu thinking that the outlanders actually cared about them. Synda felt like she was fighting the tide, lonelier and weaker with each passing moment. Righteousness took its toll, she supposed.

Not that she had much honor any longer. If she didn't, why keep fighting? She walked aimlessly, finally stopping near one of the lantern-laden trees. Maybe she could escape that night. Mother and Father no longer had much use for her except as a bargaining chip. If she married someone useful to them, she could move on with her life. Father would never tell Synda's future husband of her misdeeds.

Only secret crimes are truly forgiven, as the Dunmer saying went.

"Pardon me, sera, but you're blocking my light."

Synda followed the sound of the voice to see a young man, about her age, seated on a stone planter and reading a book by a lantern's glow. She didn't recognize him but his clothes showed real wealth: a thick blue-and-red Imperial-style coat with silver-lined lapels and cuffs, beige breeches whose tightness edged the line of decency, and a bejeweled amulet on his chest.

Rich and with close connections to the Empire. Quite handsome, too. He was chiseled, his red eyes calm and assuring, his black hair slightly tousled as if he'd only recently arisen. She didn't know his rank, but the authority in his voice left no doubt that he was highborn.

"Forgive me, serjo," she said.

Why was he reading a book? The oddness of the situation rankled Synda. The night was for the Dunmer to come together and honor St. Roris. Not for sitting alone and reading. She leaned over to peer at the text, her shadow falling over the page as she did. It looked like a novel.

"You're still in my light," he said.

"Forgive me," she said again, taking a step back. Damn, she'd annoyed him already. "I was curious as to what you were reading. A work on the heroism of St. Roris, I'm sure."

"Uh, no. I'm reading A Game at Dinner. I figured a dubiously true account of nobles poisoning each other fits tonight's crowd reasonably well."

He'd actually admitted it! Without any uncertainty or shame. And in so doing, mocked the rest of the crowd: Mother and Father in their cold certainty, Satheri in her weepy-eyed adoration, Lli in her grandstanding.

"I… uh…" she trailed off.

No, this was not acceptable. No matter how powerful he was!

"St. Roris died for Morrowind!" she stammered, her voice shaking with fury.

If this young man was powerful, she'd just shamed her family by insulting their betters. But if she stayed silent, she'd shame her family by failing to defend the honor of the Tribunal faith.

He raised his hands. "I know, I know! Believe me, I'm not trying to insult St. Roris. I was taking a little break from all the forced socializing."

"But this is a social occasion!" Synda countered.

"Then what are you doing here, away from everyone else?"

She hesitated. "I suppose it's okay to like, take a break."

He stood up and gave a quick bow. "Sorry, I never properly introduced myself. I'm Serjo Tomal Sloan."

Sloan. One of the richest families in Great House Hlaalu. No Sloans currently sat on the council, but they always had the ears of those who did. Fleets of merchantmen and armies of caravans traversed Tamriel at their bidding, bringing Morrowind's treasures to the Empire and the Empire's wealth to Morrowind.

"ALMSIVI protect me," she uttered, her knees trembling.

One wrong word, and she'd ruin everything. No second chances this time. How could she have been so foolish as to scold him?

"No gods here, just me," Serjo Sloan said, offering a quick smile. "What's your name?"

"Synda Grilvayn."

"Oh, Serjo Driler was telling me about your parents! Glad we finally met."

Synda still wanted to faint, the world spinning into darkness around her. But Serjo Sloan stood there, calm and sure, looking as if nothing could possibly be wrong.

"The honor is mine, serjo," she said, bowing.

"Your dad handles kwama egg distribution, right?"

"Yes. We, uh, have shares in all the local mines."

"Not a bad way to make money. Are you okay?"

Was she? She decided to nod. "Forgive me, serjo. Seeing these reminders of St. Roris's suffering, like, affected me."

"Understandable; the sculptors knew how to capture pain. Shall we walk a little bit?"

"Okay," she uttered.

Every moment of every day of Synda's life had been spent preparing to marry above her station. She'd been sure she would. Mother had trained her in the subtle arts of attraction, of bending the wills of others. But never had she dared imagine she'd get a chance with someone as prestigious as a Sloan. She reminded herself to be careful. They'd only just met. Serjo Sloan had not evinced any attraction, nor had she shown her best face. But should Serjo Sloan ultimately choose to look elsewhere, he doubtless had other important friends that might be more amenable to marrying the daughter of a respectable but not terribly rich family like the Grilvayns.

"Do you find Balmora to your liking, serjo?" she asked. She needed to focus, but her head still spun from her earlier faux pas.

"What's not to like? Balmora's got corruption, shady business practices, and backroom deals. It's basically a more affordable version of the Imperial City."

That was not the answer she'd expected. He mocked the town he visited, but he'd done it so well. He wasn't exactly wrong, either. Synda stared at him for an incredulous moment and then burst out laughing. With that, all her fears vanished, even if only for a little while, thanks to the sheer absurdity of this wealthy scion verbally skewering the regional capital of his own great house. Was he a lunatic? Part of her wished her mother had been there to hear it just so Synda could see the outrage on her face.

"Thanks, I'll be here all night," he said. "And every night for the foreseeable future."

Tears now flowed from Synda's eyes as she kept laughing, and she had to stop and lean against one of the stately manor houses. The benefits of power: he could get away with nearly anything. He stopped to let her get her breath.

"I… can't believe… you said that. You have the manners of a Nord!"

Serjo Sloan stroked his chin. "I did hang out with some Nords back when I lived in the IC. I guess their bluntness rubbed off."

"So it seems," she said, wiping away the tears from her eyes. "How long did you live in the Imperial City?"

"I was born in Morrowind but spent five years in the capital with my uncle. Dad summoned me to Vvardenfell last year. All the new exploitation means there'll be plenty of opportunity for me to make my mark."

"I am surprised you'd call it exploitation, serjo," Synda said. "Is it not our right?"

"You say right; I say exploitation. It ends up the same way: more money for my dad."

They resumed the walk, hovering at the edge of the crowd.

"So, you've been in Balmora since then?" she asked.

"We've been nomadic, actually. Spent some months in Vivec City, a few more living with friends in the Ascadian Isles. Now we're staying at Driler's manor, and probably will be for a year or two."

"Truly, Serjo Driler is honored to host you."

"Eh, I'm sure that's what he'll tell my dad."

Synda blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I've been reading a lot about social relations. Serjo Driler doesn't have much choice if he wants to stay reputable, so though he says he's honored, I'm skeptical he actually feels that way. But we are covering our own expenses, so the only thing Serjo Driler really has to deal with is my dad bugging him to play chess at odd hours."

"Wait, what? That's like, such a weird attitude to have. Our duty is to serve people like you."

She didn't get him. He acted like his station didn't matter. Maybe that was simply how the powerful were; they'd gotten too used to their power to notice it. But whether or not he noticed it, he had it.

"So say the traditions," Serjo Sloan said. "But do you want to?"

Synda's breath caught in her throat. Was she blundering into a trick question? One where the wrong answer might cost her everything? Best to be safe. "Of course," she said.

"Why?"

"Uh… because it brings honor to my family. And I, like, want that."

"Do you want that? Or do your parents want that?"

She trembled. "Please, serjo. Are you testing me?"

He held up his hands again! "No! Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't have gotten into that. It's more that, well, I haven't hung out with any locals my own age since getting here. So I probably still sound like an Imperial City student more trained in rhetoric than in responsibility."

Serjo Sloan sighed. Synda watched him for a bit, not quite trusting herself to speak.

"Forget it," he said. "Look, I'll admit that I've forgotten a lot about how a Hlaalu noble should behave."

"It is not your fault, serjo. The outlanders in the capital should have paid you more respect."

Serjo Sloan laughed. "This might surprise you, but most people outside of Morrowind and eastern Cyrodiil haven't heard of Great House Hlaalu."

"What? But we trade all over the continent!"

"We do. But lot of that's through intermediaries like the EEC. Besides, when you buy moth-silk do you pay that much attention to who shipped it?"

"I suppose not." The conversation made her uneasy. All the work Great House Hlaalu did, and people didn't know? She'd always assumed that the Hlaalu were the powerhouse of the east, known far and wide as the gatekeepers of Morrowind's treasures.

"But," she said, "Morrowind is important."

She said it to hear it, and so that he'd agree.

"Absolutely. It's our province, and we need to do what we can to make it a better place."

The whole thing still felt unreal.

"Sera Grilvayn," he said, "you seem pretty well-versed in local etiquette. I certainly wouldn't mind if you brought me up to speed."

All at once, blood rushed to her cheeks, and her legs grew weak. He was inviting her to help!

"Yes! I mean, uh, like, of course, Serjo Sloan. Though I am but a young woman, not wise to the ways of the world like you are."

"I only need someone who's wise to the ways of Balmora."

"Then I can help. I have lived here for ten years."

"Perfect. All I ask in return is that you be patient with my occasional pedantry."

"Oh, but serjo, I eagerly accept your wisdom."

He sighed. "Sure, if you want."

An idea came to her. "Serjo Sloan: would it please you to meet my parents?"

"My dad does want me to talk to some of the notables, and I guess I can't hide behind a book forever. Lead the way!"

It felt like something from a dream. In a few minutes, Synda would exceed her mother's expectations a thousandfold. To bring an actual Sloan to the Grilvayns! Too good to be true, she was sure. Perhaps he was an imposter. But she was already locked in, gliding past the nobles and merchants, heart pounding and stomach tumbling. If this worked, she might be forgiven, at last be the daughter who'd done something extraordinary for her family.

Serjo Sloan had invited her to guide him through Balmora. There were so many others he could have chosen. Maybe he saw something in her. Yes, he was strange, too versed by far in the ways of outlanders. But business with the Empire was practical. It helped Great House Hlaalu. Perhaps his oddness might make him soft, so that maybe one day she could tell him what she'd done to her family, and he'd tell her it was okay.

She sniffed to keep from crying and continued searching for her parents. No, she could never tell Serjo Sloan. The truth of her sins could never leave the Grilvayn home. But at least she could dream of someone forgiving her.

Synda found her parents a bit later, engaged in conversation with the Leldros and their daughter Nedrasa. Synda's eyes met Nedrasa's, and the lesser girl smiled and bowed. Seeing her strengthened Synda's resolve. She'd help the Leldros as well. Nedrasa had always been a faithful friend, and that warranted a bountiful reward.

"Ah, I see your daughter is here, Muthsera Grilvayn," the Leldro patriarch said. "We are honored by your presence, Sera Grilvayn," he said to Synda.

"Thank you," Synda said, bowing. "Indeed, we are all honored by the presence of my guest here."

She waited a moment, relishing it. Mother's eyes had already turned as hard as rubies. She expected little, but she'd get something beyond her wildest dreams.

"Serjo Tomal Sloan, of the Sloan family," Synda announced.

Gasps as Serjo Sloan bowed. Mother and Father genuflected before the young noble, and Synda thrilled in the moment. This is what I can do for our family! she exulted.

"Serjo Sloan! I was informed that your family might be here. Truly, we are graced by your presence," Father said.

"I am honored by yours and hers," Serjo Sloan said. "I can see her strength in the way she carries herself, and her beauty is obvious to all."

"The honor is all mine, serjo. Truly," Synda murmured, lowering her head, her face hot.

"Is there anything we can do for you?" Father asked.

"Your presence is sufficient. Though I am new to the city, and it would please me if Synda could help acclimate me."

Mother and Father looked at each other, and then at Serjo Sloan. "Whatever you need from our family, we will provide, serjo."

"It's, uh, merely a request... well, thank you regardless." Serjo Sloan exhaled, sounding a little uncomfortable.

"Your father's business acumen is well known. So much of Great House Hlaalu's wealth comes from the efforts of Sloans past and present."

"He continues to work hard, and I shall endeavor to live up to the family name," Serjo Sloan said.

"We have no doubt that you will, serjo."

Serjo Sloan glanced at Synda and raised his eyebrows for a moment. She stifled a giggle, though she wasn't sure why she found it so funny. Perhaps it was the perversity of a great highborn so casual about etiquette. They spoke business for a while longer, Serjo Sloan polite but sounding much more bored than he'd had with Synda. Which she liked. It meant he might let her get away from Mother.

A sonorous drum beat echoed down High Town's streets as lit torches bobbed like fireflies before the council manor, guiding the paths of temple priests carrying books and saint-scrolls.

"That's my cue," Serjo Sloan said. "I'd better go see to my father. Again, I am thankful we met."

Mother and Father and the Leldros all talked over each other in their attempts to thank him. He bore it with good grace and then moved a little distance away with Synda.

"Here comes the boring part. My dad's going to want me to stand next to him while he makes the recitation to St. Roris. I don't have to say anything, but I do have to stand there."

"It is an important recitation," Synda said.

"Right. Do you want to meet next Morndas? I can send a servant to come fetch you."

"If it pleases you, serjo."

"It would. This might sound a little odd, Synda, but I kind of liked the way you got mad at me earlier."

She froze. She'd almost forgotten how badly she'd flubbed the first part of the encounter. "Uh, you did?"

"It keeps things interesting."

"Oh," she said. She wasn't sure she could still manage that. But she had to try. "Of course. Thank you for your time and your invitation, Serjo Sloan."

"Thank you for yours, Sera Grilvayn."

They bowed, and Serjo Sloan headed to the council manor. Synda watched him go. For the first time in quite a long time, she felt hopeful. Not happy, exactly, but things might get better.

"Muthsera Grilvayn!" Nedrasa whispered, putting her hand on her shoulder. "This is fantastic!"

"Much work remains to be done, Sera Leldro," she said. But she smiled at her friend. "Yet there is potential."

"The rest of us girls don't stand a chance against your beauty, Muthsera Grilvayn. Which is why I'm so glad you are my friend."

Nedrasa bowed, and Synda put her arms around her and pulled her close for a quick embrace.

The Leldros departed to get closer to the recitation. Mother walked toward Synda.

"You certainly made the most of this night," she said.

"I did as I was trained." A coldness settled over her. She could not show pride or carelessness. This was a serious matter. Even if Serjo Sloan wanted to pretend otherwise.

"Perhaps there is some use to you after all. Though the Sloans are a peculiar family. Perhaps they must be, to better work with the Empire. I don't know why else Serjo Tomal's father would have freed all his slaves. Regardless, you did well tonight," Mother said.

Synda shuddered in relief. The crime was not forgotten, but maybe it could be overcome. She could still be useful.

"Thank you, Mother."

But her mother's words persisted in her mind.

"It would have been better for us if they'd killed you!"

Musical Closer - They Don't Know About Us, by Tracey Ullman

The End

Looks like mommy and daddy are not too happy about Syd's screw up. Whew, they are a tough crowd. And Daria thought she had it bad. At least her parents love her, even as dysfunctional as they are. Granted, Daria never spent the family's money on peacocking with underworld thugs either... As you noted, Morrowind is a harsh, unforgiving environment.

Thorned vines, poison darts, Argonian claws? Roris really had a rough time. It not only fits into the harshness that you have always striven to portray about Morrowind, but it also reminds me of a lot of the early Christian martyrs.

I love the comparison of Principal Li to a Skyrender that ate praise instead of flesh. Also, Skyrender is an awesome name.

This guy reading a book has got to be Tom! Especially the remark about reading a Game At Dinner because nobles poisoning one another fit the mood of the festival.

Tomal is as a charming as ever with his incisive cynicism and brutal honesty. Corruption, shady business, back room deals? What is not to like?

The differences between Syd and Tom could not be more plain. I do not see that going to far. Now someone like Jane or Daria...

Well, it is certainly clear where Synda inherits her wickedness and pomposity. That said, you do a good job of almost making me feel sorry for her. I will acknowledge that she is a product, forged by her parents, into what she is.

In a society that worships status, Tomal taking an interest in Synda opens things up some. To Synda’s credit, I don’t think she will ever forgive her mother – nor should she.

Yes, it's okay about not breaking up chapters. Sometimes you have to put two and two together, otherwise the flow gets interrupted.

Sydna is not grateful for getting saved, wow. This episode's pretty depressing, and I'm not even talking about Sydna's thoughts. It's just depressing how everything revolves around this St. Roris character. Mortals will never compare. It's like when in Wayne's World they say "We're not worthy!" except without the humor.

We really have it easy in our modern times. Pretty much, we get to revere whom we wish to without persecution, assuming we live in a more cililized society. A lot of nonsense our ancestors had to deal with is gone.

Uh oh, who's this guy? This highborn guy? Ah, he seems cool. One or more of my characters have surely read A Game at Dinner. I can't remember what it's about, but it's cool how this guy's calmly defying some rules just by reading. Daria would be proud. Because the guy is reading. In public.

As cool and offhand as Serjo Sloan is, as much as I already like the guy, I can't help thinking this will turn out bad somehow. Like the young traveler who commissioned Jane a few chapters back. Just another douchebag. Let's hope I'm wrong! Oh crap. Meet the parents, already? This can't end well. But I get her impatience. See needs something good to happen.

And from his perspective, maybe he already knows how much is on the line for her, at a moment like this. Could he be playing with her? Ah, let me shush.

Ah, crap. Holy crap.



Nice. I am blown away. Take that, stuffy-ass 'rents!



b1tch.

Wow, Tracey Ullman. I remember this song. I forget how old you are Clavier, but I think Tracy's a bit before your time? Thing about her is it was like she came out of nowhere. And then she was featured as an add-on to some TV show. And then she was everywhere. And her show was hilarious. Ah, I see. I had it backwards. The Simpsons started as an offshoot of Tracey Ullman's own show. But Tracey herself came out of the blue.

-----------------------------------------



Oh I do mod Morrowind but I don't want to even know how to change dialog & quests, because that would change the feel of the words Joan's game whenever I get back into her tale. I like everything to be somewhat weird and 2-dimensional when it comes to the way Joan interacts with Caius and others. For one thing, everyone who's played the game can then relate. That's the way I see it, anyway.

But I do mod other things, some of it from others, some my own content. My most proud are the bandits. I've added bandits, war chiefs, lowlifes, prowlers (and so on) into unique leveled lists so Joan and my others can get into brawls with these folks; it's not just cliffies and kagouti and other critters attacking. NPCs in my gameworld also move around inside of buildings instead of standing like statues 24/7.

Episode 20: School of Mock

Chapter 1

Situated in a rocky heath stretching between two rows of gray and dusty hills, the town of Caldera disappointed Daria as soon as she saw it.

Caldera's peaked and thatch-roofed buildings looked almost alien to her after the year in Balmora. Nothing about the place fit the landscape, the cross-timbered houses like a mirage that'd vanish in the next big rainstorm or ashfall. Only the squat stone heap of Governor's Hall, which overlooked the city from a barren rise, offered any sense of permanence.

Daria wasn't sure she'd mind it much if some natural weather phenomenon did demolish the town. After struggling for so long in Balmora, she'd finally achieved some sense of place there. She no longer panicked going down the street, had some sense of the place and who did what, and had an actual friend.

"Here we are, girls!" Dad cheered, marching at the front. "Looks like a nice town."

"It does come highly recommended," Mom said.

"I think we should double-check your sources on that," Daria said.

Mom sighed. "Now, Daria. We're only going to stay for a few days and get a feel for the place. I haven't accepted Erarik's offer."

"But you're considering it."

"Well, of course. My practice hasn't been growing as quickly as I'd like. Balmora's a hard market for outlanders. Caldera might be a little easier for us. And the Cyrodiilic School here is supposed to be one of the best in the province."

"Look at the clothes! Oh my gosh, look at the clothes!" Quinn exclaimed. A party of women in bejeweled gowns and Nibenese-style veils had just glided past them.

"At least we know that the locals have figured out how to use textiles," Daria said.

Quinn gave an exasperated sigh. "I know you don't know the difference between good and bad clothes, but the people here have connections! We're getting a glimpse into what people in the Imperial City wear!"

"Please. The presence of the nouveau riche doesn't make Caldera any less of a cultural backwater."

Quinn looked around, frowning in doubt at the sooty houses. "Well, I'm sure it'll be a nice place someday! By getting here now, we get to make our claim early. Don't worry, Daria, I'll give you something nice once I'm rich and famous."

"Give me a way to get out of this place, and we'll call it a deal."

They found Erarik's home with some help from the city's residents. He lived in a cramped but luxuriously appointed two-story home at the end of a narrow street. Sitting down on an upholstered chair, surrounded by overly busy carved wood paneling and tapestries of cliched hunting scenes, Daria reached into her bag and took out her copy of Palla to reread one of her old favorites.

But concentration eluded her. Daria kept listening to the conversation, searching for some hint that Mom and Dad would drop this ridiculous scheme and go back to Balmora.

"This is a great place you got here!" Jake exclaimed. "What do they charge for the rent in Caldera?"

Erarik chuckled. "Surprisingly little, my friend. You see, the Caldera Mining Company gets major tax breaks based on how many citizens live within the walls. Part of the colonization program, you see. The company keeps the rent cheap to incentivize us."

"That's a helluva deal. We pay through the nose for our place in Balmora."

"Though," Helen continued, "I have to say I'm surprised it's so sedate. Mining towns tend to be a bit more rambunctious."

Erarik smiled. "The miners all live in the barracks near the mine. You know, the one that's actually in a volcanic caldera. Caldera proper is for company and government officials and the folks who support them. It's a model community."

"A model community in the sense that you guys can exploit poor people but never have to interact with them," Daria said, not looking up from her book.

"Ah, I see you've inherited your mother's penetrating insight! You know, Helen, I think the Cyrodiilic School would be a good thing for your eldest daughter. It's easy for citizens, young ones especially, to go astray when they live in such a foreign province."

Now Daria did look up. "Oh, don't worry. The Dunmer are just as classist as we are. Though maybe more honest about it."

Erarik ignored her. "The Cyrodiilic School emphasizes our nation's traditional values, like piety and loyalty. Important things. Especially for a young girl. I think they'll benefit when they visit it tomorrow."

Daria gave Erarik the nastiest look she could muster. Mom noticed, and Daria feared she'd get in trouble. However, Mom looked equally displeased with what her old classmate had said. That was something, at least.

"Don't worry, Mr. Swift-wit! Piety means a lot to me," Quinn said, closing her eyes and briefly bowing her head.

For the thousandth time that day, Daria prayed that Mom would go back to Balmora.

*********

The Morgendorffers stayed as guests in Erarik's home, Jake and Helen taking a spare bedroom while Daria and Quinn slept in the parlor. They arose early the next morning to a breakfast of ham and porridge prepared by Erarik's Khajiit servant, who'd arrived before dawn to prepare.

"Another nice thing about Caldera: you don't have to eat bugs here!" Erarik boasted.

Next came the visit to the Cyrodiilic School. Daria and Quinn followed Helen into dry and dusty streets already teeming with activity. What struck Daria more than anything else was how much cattle stank compared to bugs and airborne jellyfish. She'd gotten used to Balmora's sour smell.

The Cyrodiilic School turned out to be nearby, held in a well-maintained two-story structure built around a small garden filled with oak saplings and flowering rosebushes.

"Oh, it's so pretty! I haven't seen a rose in ages!" Quinn gushed as she hurried over to breathe in the scent.

"All right, girls," Mom said. "Erarik already made arrangements with the headmaster, so go in as if you're regular students. Try to get a feel for the place."

"You mean try to pretend we're happy with giving up our old lives so that you can get a few extra big money clients?" Daria said.

She'd probably gone too far, but at this point, she didn't care. She hated this town already.

"Oh my gosh, Daria," Quinn said. "Just try it! And Balmora's only like a day away, so you can still visit Jane sometimes."

Mom drew in her breath, like she was about to go on some blistering lecture, but exhaled instead.

"Nothing's been decided yet, Daria. Right now, we're trying to see what options we have. Which means I need an honest appraisal... something I know I can count on you to deliver for this school."

Annoyed, Daria grunted.

"Anyway, I'll be in Erarik's office all day. See you at dinner!"

Resigned to her fate, Daria followed Quinn through the garden and into a luxurious anteroom with wooden floors and thick Nibenese rugs decorated in complex and colorful abstractions. Dappled sunlight shone through windows of real glass. Big bookcases lined the walls, and she examined the spines as she passed: encyclopedias, official histories, and other Empire standards. Nothing she didn't already know.

"This is way nicer than Drenlyn," Quinn said.

"Yes, aesthetics are far more essential than educational quality."

Quinn sniffed. "First impressions are important!"

A young Breton girl about their age sat behind a small podium, wearing a pale blue robe that was maybe a bit too big for her. Like Daria, she wore glasses.

"Oh! Wow, I haven't seen anyone else with glasses since getting here," the girl said. "I thought I had the only pair in Morrowind. That's so cool!"

"Yeah, relying on cumbersome optical devices to make up for diminished eyesight is pretty swell," Daria said.

The girl laughed. "It can be a pain sometimes, huh. Do you ever get that thing where your eyes start... oh, shoot!" She straightened up. "You two are Daria and Quinn Morgendorffer, right?"

"We are!" Quinn said.

"Mr. Swift-wit's servant told us you'd be arriving this morning. I'm Amelia, and I'm here to welcome you to the Cyrodiilic School in Morrowind: Caldera Campus!"

"Implying there's more than one campus," Daria said.

"Yup! The CSM also has campuses in Old Ebonheart, Firewatch, and Cormar. It's part of the Empire's efforts to provide a top-notch education for citizens."

All of them, Daria noted, cities built and inhabited by outlanders like her.

"I'm Quinn! Our family is like, really popular in Balmora, and we've heard so many great things about Caldera."

"Great! We all do our parts to make Caldera a sterling example of the Empire's governance."

"It's good to know that conformity and sucking up to the powers that be will always have a home under the Ruby Banner," Daria said, but Quinn had already started talking.

"Same in Balmora!" Quinn said. "So is it true that in Caldera you can go into a store and buy gowns straight from the Imperial City?"

Amelia's freckled face scrunched up in uncertainty. "Uh, I think so, but I'm not the girl to ask. I spend most of my money on books. My dad says it's more important than ever to be well-read."

Quinn turned to Daria. "See, you already have a friend."

"You like reading, too?" Amelia asked. "I've heard Balmora has a great bookstore."

With Amelia's eyes so wide and hopeful behind her glasses, Daria couldn't think of anything snarky to say. "Uh, yeah. Actually, we do have a pretty good one."

"That's so cool. Don't get me wrong, I love Caldera, but culturally, there isn't a lot here. You're in luck, though! Today, Master Pentuo's going to be teaching us about the construction of early Third Era panegyrics. Mostly to Tiber Septim's glory, of course," she added, bowing her head.

"Because modern propaganda just can't compete with the classics," Daria said.

Amelia laughed again. Did this girl find everything funny? Did she get Daria was making fun of her?

"We'll have to talk about our favorite books later. For now, you can follow me for the tour." Amelia cleared her throat and then gestured around the room. "As you can see, we have a lot of books here, most of which were donated by the Amarecto family—"

"This is fascinating, Amelia," Quinn interrupted, "but do you know what would be a good place to find some of the latest gowns? And maybe the names of the kinds of people who shop there?"

Disappointment flickered in Amelia's eyes. "Falanaamo's is the place to get clothes."

"Great, well I'm going to take a quick visit. My mother is very insistent on getting the latest fashions and she's been dying to know what they are."

"But Quinn! I'm supposed to—"

Quinn was already halfway out the door. "Don't worry, I'll get back in time for the pan gymnastics or whatever. Bye!"

The door shut, leaving Daria and Amelia alone in the expansive anteroom.

"Shoot," Amelia said.

"Don't feel bad. Quinn has a very clear list of priorities. Fashion is at the top. Education is somewhere below herding silt striders."

"Yeah, she'll fit in here," Amelia muttered. Then the smile returned. "I guess I can show you—"

"Wait a minute," Daria said, crossing her arms. "I heard what you said."

Amelia turned pale. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound, gosh—"

Daria held up a hand. "Trust me, it takes a lot more than that to offend me on my sister's behalf. What I'm more curious about is your chipper description of life in Caldera and this school. You clearly don't entirely believe what you're saying."

Amelia looked down at the floor, sighed, and then met Daria's gaze. "It's not all bad. But, well, education isn't always a priority in the Cyrodiilic School, either."

"In that case, it'll probably be just like home."

"Heh, guess things are tough for us intellectual types everywhere. Come on, I'll show you to class. Uh, manage your expectations."

The door led to a small hallway running along the front room, with a few more doors on the opposite side, one near them and the other farther down the hall. Amelia took the nearest door, and Daria heard chatter on the other side.

"Like I said, Daria, manage your expectations," Amelia said, bracing herself and then opening the door.

Musical Closer - Leaving Town, by Dexter Freebish

Doesn't everything disappoint Daria the moment she sees it? I am going to guess that Caldera bores her because it is a cookie-cutter Breton/Imperial settlement plunked down squarely in the middle of Morrowind, which is supposed to be an exotic foreign land. Booooriiiiiing!

Thank goodness the locals know about textiles!

By the miner's barracks I am sure Eric means slave quarters...

Ok, not eating bugs is nice.

Oh boy. It is really bad when they tell you to manage your expectations. I wonder if Beavis and Butthead will be waiting in the classroom.

Wow, so Mom and Dad are thinking of picking up sticks again and moving the entire family a second time? Talk about putting your kids through a wringer. Well, Quinn will always land on her feet so long as there are 'popular' people around. It took Daria something like a year to make one friend in Balmora. I can see why she's not happy with the idea of doing it all over again somewhere else.

Out of the Balmora and into the Caldera?

Daria not impressed? Imagine that. Fashion for the Quinn win however.

Pan gymnastics indeed.

Bookish Amelia might have potential as a possible friend but I expect Daria is too jaded to really see it. She’s not at all ready to accept leaving the land of bugs-for-breakfast.

Chapter 2

A lavish sitting room awaited beyond. Thick rugs of red and purple carpeted the wooden floor, and a dozen students in shimmering moth-silk tunics lounged around on upholstered chairs, some with their feet propped up on footstools. Candles, wax ones, burned on elegant metal holders even though the morning sun shone bright through the polished glass windows.

"Amelia! I was told there would be two new students."

The speaker was another Breton, a reedy one, maybe a little older than Daria and his features already locked into a disapproving snit. He sat in a chair upholstered in purple silk, bigger than any of the other students', and near the front of the room.

"Uh, the other one, Quinn, is on her way," Amelia said.

He got up, and the rest of the room fell silent. "You must be Erarik Swift-wit's guests? My dad knows him. They're buddies."

Daria already hated the guy. But she didn't know his social standing, so she had to play it safe.

"I am, in fact."

He smiled. "Any daughter of one of Erarik's friends is a friend of mine!"

"I'm certainly glad that our seconds-long acquaintanceship has already blossomed into friendship," she said, no longer able to stop herself.

Luckily, he didn't notice. "I'm Skip Stieve. My father's an accountant at the Caldera Mining Company and a close friend of Headmaster Mantus Corpullo."

Daria nodded, bile simmering on her tongue. He wasn't a noble, at least, which gave her some leeway. "Is there anyone your dad isn't close friends with?"

"He knows everyone important here. Anyway, now that Amelia's brought you in, let me be the one to introduce you to the finest educational institution in Morrowind!"

"Who'd have thought that a small company town less than a decade old would boast a school better than any of the age-old centers of learning in this vast province?"

Amelia covered her mouth and looked away.

Skip's brow furrowed, and his gaze became a squint. "Was that a joke? Because I don't appreciate some newcomer making fun of what Headmaster Mantus Corpullo has done with this place."

"Oh, not a joke at all," Daria said. "I was simply praising the remarkable, if not downright improbable, skill with which he's turned this school into an educational marvel without anyone outside of Caldera ever hearing about it."

Skip pointed a bony finger at her. "You better be!"

The door opened, and a middle-aged Imperial stepped in, carrying a few books. "All right, everyone, take your seats so we can get through this lecture with a minimum of fuss."

Not showing any emotion, Daria turned and stepped away from the front of the room. Gaining some positive social relationships in Balmora had made her worry she'd lost her touch, but it looked like she still knew how to alienate people as soon as she met them.

*********

Erarik hadn't been the best student at the School of Julianos. An intelligent one, certainly, but never the most diligent. Cornerclubs and dice games always pulled him away from his studies, and his marks reflected that.

Yet, somehow, he'd gotten a fine position mere days after graduation, while Helen had to pack up and move to a backwater like Charach to find any work. Erarik's wealthy drinking buddies had hired him, a bleak lesson that, in some ways, might have been the most useful she'd gotten from her time at the school.

Now, while Helen worked from a humble home office, Erarik ran a separate office on the floor above an accounting firm within sight of Governor's Hall, complete with three secretaries and a fellow advocate. A bit extravagant, she thought, to have a building devoted entirely to office work, but perhaps that was the way of the future. It being right across the street from a bakery at least provided an aromatic bonus.

"Here's where the magic happens," he said. Erarik walked past the bookshelves packed with legal tomes to a marble altar inscribed with a scroll and triangle, the symbol of Julianos.

"You've certainly done well for yourself," Helen said, crossing her arms and hoping she sounded sincere.

"The Divines have favored me, but I like to think I had something to do with it as well." He flashed a grin.

"Does your office provide legal services for the Caldera Mining Company?" she asked.

He shook his head. "They have their own people for that. No, my services are for the people of Caldera. And there seem to be more every day. Which, of course, is where you come in!"

The people of Caldera, of course, referring to the bureaucrats and shopkeepers. Certainly not the miners. But it wasn't as if she provided pro bono service to Balmora's poor and indigent. No, she'd shorn off most of her ideals long ago, same as him, so there could be no fair judgment from her.

Helen walked over to the open window, made of real glass and not the hardened green resin the Dunmer used. A pall of dust hung over the town, dirtying the sun's light. Simply the nature of a mining town, she supposed.

"It is quite an offer. But I have to admit, I'd be sorry to give up the legal fiefdom I've carved out for myself in Balmora."

Erarik pumped his fist. "That you did that yourself is exactly why I want you! Here, that is. I remember how you were back in school. No weakness in the opposing argument escaped your ear; no obscure statute passed unnoticed."

Helen turned around to face him. "What sort of position would I start with?"

"You've already got experience, so you'd be working with me."

"What about that other advocate?" Helen asked.

"Shaz'vir? He's fresh out of law school; he knows it'll be a while. You'd start from a strong position. And don't forget about Caldera's advantages for your girls. And husband."

Right. She'd already forgotten that in the rush of calculating the costs and benefits of relocation. Some mother she was. Caldera probably did provide better opportunities for Daria and Quinn. As for the job, she hated the idea of working for Erarik. Or working for anyone else, for that matter. She'd always taken pride in being a trailblazer of one kind or another. She'd risked it all to go to Balmora. Though she hadn't made it yet, she was getting closer.

But this was a hard offer to turn down.

*********

At least when Sera Ondryn had them recite Dunmer poetry, it was something new. "To the Glory of the Emperor Everlasting" was a panegyric she'd memorized by age three and had gotten sick of before she'd turned four. But that didn't stop Master Pentuo from leading the class through the tired old recitation, Skip's enthusiastic diction booming over everyone else's.

Quinn crept in unnoticed halfway through, her voice seamlessly joining the others.

At last, they broke for lunch. For lack of better options, Daria fell in with Amelia as the students filed out of the Cyrodiilic School and into the courtyard. Quinn already chattered with a crowd of young ladies whose wardrobe budgets put together probably exceeded the town's tax revenue. As usual, a trio of guys stood in rapt adoration of their newfound goddess. Nothing ever changed.

"So, what do you think?" Amelia asked, her voice hopeful.

"I think it's pretty impressive for an effort that basically denies Morrowind's existence."

"What do you mean?"

Daria sighed. "Amelia, we're in the Dunmer home province, but there's not a single Dunmer student in the school. If today was any indication, we won't be learning much about Morrowind."

Amelia was silent for a moment. "Yeah, it bothers me, too. When I came to Morrowind, I was excited about getting to meet citizens who serve the Empire, but in a different way, you know? But it is a good place where we can get training to make the Empire a more cohesive polity someday. Right?"

"Personally, I go for more of a live fast, die young ethos. I just can't resist the thrills of Balmora's seedier side."

Amelia got all goggle-eyed. "Wait, do you really do stuff like that? Wow, you have to tell me more about life in Balmora; it sounds so exciting! I know a place where we can talk."

Said place turned out to be Shenk's Shovel, a spacious and richly appointed cornerclub with flower-pattern tapestries and cabinets opened to display rows of fine porcelain. Bureaucrats and company men in resplendent coats sat at lacquered tables laden with plates of spiced chicken and bowls of imported sticky rice.

"Why's this place called Shenk's Shovel?" Daria asked. The sheer amount of luxury on display had caught her off-guard. She supposed it served as a good reminder that, for all of Great House Hlaalu's wealth, the Empire and its companies had so much more.

"That's Shenk over there; he's the publican," Skip said, pointing at a bald Redguard in a pricey-looking blue silk shirt. "And it's called the shovel because Caldera's a mining town."

"I see." Daria scanned the clientele. "These sure are some well-dressed miners."

"Oh, ha ha! No, this is more for company men. But hey, they have coffee. Do you want some?"

It had been a while since the Lucky Lockup had gotten a shipment of beans. Nodding her assent, Daria let Amelia make the order.

Amelia returned and unleashed a fusillade of questions about Balmora: What was the food like? ("Bug-based, but pretty good when you get used to it.") Were the Camonna Tong actually dangerous? ("Yes, but they don't usually bother upper-class outlanders, and the Thieves Guild protects the poorer outlanders.") Was Daria part of the Thieves Guild? ("No, but I know someone who knows someone.") Did the Dunmer like or hate the Empire? ("Depends on the Dunmer, and a single Dunmer might have more than one opinion on the subject.") Were the Dunmer gods real? ("Probably not, but you should respect their beliefs.") Did Imperial citizens have to step aside to avoid touching the shadows of Dunmer nobles? ("That just plain doesn't happen.")

And many others.

The coffee arrived, and Daria savored the bitter aroma wafting out from the steam-crowned porcelain pot. She relaxed a bit as Amelia poured the brew into the two tiny cups. With it came a small meal of spiced rice and Nibenese-style mango tarts. The whole thing felt like a weird repeat of her first day at Drenlyn. Coming in and befriending—or at least getting to know—an outcast while also getting on the bad side of someone with a higher social ranking. But diminished somehow. Amelia was no Jane; her insecurity writ large on her tightened lips and perpetually rigid shoulders. Nor did a sycophant like Skip compare to Synda, who at least had had the courage to go all out with her harebrained cruelty.

"Why did your parents come to Morrowind?" Amelia asked.

"The only reason anyone does anything: The chance to make more money than their neighbors."

"Heh, my dad came here after he finished his commission in the Imperial Navy. Now he's a gardener. My mom makes some money doing secretary work for the Mages Guild."

Amelia didn't seem to be as well-connected as some of the other students. "You mean the mighty wizards of the Mages Guild can't use the arcane arts to manage their own schedules?"

Amelia laughed. "You'd be surprised! Some of the people there are completely absent-minded. I intern in the Mages Guild. My mom got me the job."

Daria thought back to her own brief time in the guild. "In other words, they needed someone to roll scrolls for them."

Amelia blushed, clearly embarrassed. Then she brightened up. "Hey, if you end up living here in Caldera, we should totally visit Balmora! I might be able to talk them into letting us use the Mages Guild relay. Even if I can't, it's not that long of a trip. I'd love to meet all your friends."

"You mean friend, singular?"

Amelia shrugged. "Well, even if they aren't all friends, exactly, they sound interesting. Everyone here's kind of, well, the same old, same old. Jane sounds so cool! She must be, if she's your friend."

Daria didn't get it. Amelia was clearly someone who ultimately loved the whole Empire shtick. So why did she laugh along with Daria's critiques? Didn't she get that Daria was making fun of the Empire? It felt like a setup. She couldn't trust someone who seemed so eager to please. Not like Jane, always cool and confident and very much her own person.

They finished lunch and left Shenk's Shovel, the Cyrodiilic School a little farther down the street.

"Oh, one thing Daria?"

"Yes?"

"Be careful around Skip."

Daria's stomach clenched up and she again lay back in that Balmora alley with Synda's gloating echoing in her ears. It still hurt, all the fear and helplessness crashing back at once, despite everything Daria had done.

"He's not a noble," Daria said.

"Sure. Noble kids wouldn't go to the Cyrodiilic School anyway."

That's right. Imperial nobles all hired private tutors for their kids. It was only Dunmer nobles who'd actually send their kids to mingle in hopes of better business relations.

"But," Amelia continued, "Headmaster Corpullo is good friends with Skip's dad."

"Skip was using that name—and title—like a mantra earlier. Is he some kind of local deity for the school? Should I burn some incense in Headmaster Corpullo's name?"

Amelia giggled. "Skip likes making a big deal of it. Seriously, Corpullo's almost never on campus."

"Great. So the head of our school is the educational equivalent of an absentee landlord."

"Sort of. But Skip could still probably get you and your sister kicked out if you get on his bad side."

Daria nodded, the germ of an idea forming in her head.

Musical Closer - Semi-Charmed Life, by Third Eye Blind

I keep wondering if Erarik Swift-wit being a s'wit is a case of nominative determinsim.

Daria biting her tongue is a new experience. Even when she is biting it, it is still sharp as a cliffracer's beak!

Erarik is exactly what I expected, a privileged rich kid who has failed upward all of his life because that is the whole point of an Old Boys Network based on said privilege. It reminds me of a rich twenty-something I saw bragging on the internet a few years ago about how how easy it it was to succeed. After all, all he had to do was go to an Ivy League school that his rich parents paid for entirely, and then he was immediately hired into his Dad's company with a six figure salary, and moved into an condo that his parent's bought for him. I mean, why are people complaining when it was so easy?

An entire building devoted to office work? Surely this is the work of one of those Bad Daedra, right?

Honestly, this world's version of Helen - who is her own boss and doing her own thing - seems a lot happier and more fulfilled because of that than the TV show version, who is shackled to Erik's phone 24/7. I hope she turns down the s'wit and goes back to Balmora.

I love Daria's humble brag about living the seedier side of life. Because, well, she has! Not exactly intentionally or at least from real desire. But she has been chased by stone cold killers and watched one have this throat sliced out by a mercenary teacher. (wow, I just realized that means that Mr. DeMartino is a History Teacher by day, and crusader for justice by night. He's a superhero!) If you squint hard enough.

Looks like Shenk has one of those chrome shovels that mayors use to break ground on some new skyscraper. Not the rusty iron kind I have only ever used.

Poor Daria, she can't see that Amelia is just as desperate and lonely and alienated as she is, and just wants a friend. As much as we love Daria for her clever wit and satirical jabs at the unfairness of life. she can be pretty dim when it comes to relationships with people, rather than ideas.

Hmm, maybe Skip might prove useful in insuring that the family does not move to Caldera? And all Daria really has to do is be herself.

Skip is a bit clueless. . . it took Daria several tries before he realized she was mocking him.

I agree with SubRosa about Amelia – she seems nice, lonely and simply looking for a friend. A bookish one would be a bonus. And Daria seems rather blind to that.

Not really feeling the love for Caldera – neither the school for the girls nor the corporate law firm for Helen. I find myself hoping they don’t move there.

Heh, I can imagine Daria’s plan to nudge things in her intended direction.

Oh wow, she's in Caldera. Kay I see. It's because Caldera's an Imperial town. That's smart. Although the distance from Balmora to Caldera takes less than a day to walk in-game, maybe it'd be better to just consider moving there.

Somehow I don't think this'll happen. But let's see. Ha ha listen to Quinn! She's all ecstatic.

Interesting that the place is described as sooty and depressing.



Ha ha ha.

In all seriousness though, this whole chapter is a huge reflection on the difficulties families face sometimes. Such as, the adult (or one parent) wants to move to suss out a new job which means everyone has to move. I can definitely relate. My fam moved 3x when I was a kid. Each time it sucked. Especially because we kids had taken years to get a nice structure of friends; and now all of that was gone.

"But you can go visit at anytime!" Technically this was true. We only moved 4 streets away the second time. But in practice it just wasn't the same as waking up on a Saturday morning, walking next door to sneak handfuls of Captain Crunch (my dad refused to buy sugary cereals unless we REALLY begged), seeing your pack of friends riding bikes up and down the street, or engaged in a game of Capture the Flag which you'd spontaneously join, and so on. Basically, was probably great for my parents, but I hated it. I can relate to Daria, big-time.

I like this chick they've met, Amelia. Daria's really being antagonistic. Which is making me LoL of course! This entire scene is funny, actually. Quinn could care less about the library, she only wants clothes. *snickers*



Ha ha ha oh my gosh! -- Really love the mixed awkwardness/adoration between Daria and Amelia.

Dang, I've fallen behind. Thankfully your chapters aren't too long, Clav. Maybe I can catch Saturday's (and tomorrow's, if you add one) tomorrow or Thursday.

Wow, she's chiding one of this Skip guy aloud, and won't stop talking! SHHHHH damn, Daria!

Wow2: Quinn's already got some Adoring Dudes??? ❤

I really am enjoying Amelia's fanaticism over Daria. She's infectiously easy to like. Daria's suspicious, but too bad. I like the gal. 💁

Chapter 3

Dinner at Erarik's proved excruciating. Daria analyzed Mom's every word and gesture for some hint as to her final decision, but couldn't get anything concrete. When asked, Mom said she was still analyzing the offer.

"We'll be here a few days anyway, Daria, so you may as well make the most of it."

Daria would. Just not in the way her mother intended.

"You're planning something. I can tell," Quinn said as they walked to the Cyrodiilic School the next morning.

"Good to see your pattern recognition skills are still in good shape."

Quinn sighed. "Look, I don't really like Caldera either."

"Wait, I thought this was fashion central in Vvardenfell?"

"It is! But that's the problem. Now I have to actually compete with girls who have more money and connections than I do. I know I can do that, but it's better for the Fashion Guild's long-term prospects for me to build a solid base of support in Balmora and other cities before going after the ones connected to the capital. Plus, the gowns they wear have too many jewels; it totally distracts from the fabric quality! Like, why even wear moth-silk if you're going to do that?"

"How farsighted of you."

"Anyway, if you do anything like, embarrassing to get us out, I'll deny I'm your sister, but I won't try to stop you."

Daria nodded. "It's a deal."

Once in the luxurious lecture hall, she walked over to Skip's big, comfortable seat and sank into the soft upholstery. Then she plopped her feet down on a cushioned stool and put her hands behind her head. All she had to do was wait.

Amelia came in first, looking dismayed the moment she saw Daria.

"Daria! That's Skip's seat."

"I know."

Amelia frowned. "So, why are you sitting there?"

"Because it'll annoy Skip."

Amelia shook her head. "Come on—"

She reached out to take Daria's arm, but Daria pulled back. "No. I'm tired of phonies like Skip acting as the self-appointed rulers of their petty kingdoms. If he wants to make an issue of it, he can talk to me."

"I'm serious! He can get you kicked out!" Amelia whispered.

Daria looked her in the eyes for a long, awkward moment. "Exactly."

"Hey! That's my seat!" came Skip's piping, disagreeable voice. He stormed over, his messy red hair like an angry little bonfire atop his skinny head. "Only I can sit there."

"Gee, that's funny," Daria said. "I seem perfectly capable of sitting here. Are you physically limited to this particular seat?"

"Oh, I see how it's going to be." He leaned in. "You know, Daria, my word carries a lot of weight with Headmaster Mantus Corpullo."

"But I, Student Daria Morgendorffer, don't give a damn about your word."

Master Pentuo arrived, a few scrolls under his arm. He took no notice of the class as he took position behind the podium.

Skip scowled at Amelia. "I bet you have something to do with this! You've never been a team player."

"But I—" Amelia protested.

Skip stormed off, and Amelia looked at Daria. "Jeez, Daria. Maybe this isn't that big a deal for you, but the rest of us have to live here."

"If you want to live under Skip's thumb, be my guest."

Master Pentuo cleared his throat. "All right, let us begin. Today we shall resume our lessons on proper elocution. Most of you are from all around Cyrodiil, saddled with barbarous regional accents, and you'll need to improve if you're to have any hope in the respectable world. Now repeat after me, while taking care to de-emphasize the Rs: 'My emperor, my protector'," he said, his monotone putting Daria's to shame.

"My emperor, my protector," the rest of the class mumbled.

He sighed. "Dropping the rhoticity is no excuse for poor enunciation! Again!"

As Daria mindlessly repeated the phrase, not bothering to adjust her pronunciation, she observed Skip stewing in fury. So far, things had gone better than she'd planned.

"You! Daria, I think!" Master Pentuo barked. "You barely put any effort into that. Stand up and recite again."

Daria stood up as requested and cleared her throat. She searched her memory for a worthy response.

"Sure, but I think we've exhausted the opening lines of 'To the Glory of the Emperor Everlasting'," she said, speaking quickly and loudly to ward off interruption.

She warned Pentuo with the hint of a smile and then launched into it: "They say, the Iliac Bay, is the place to barrel around without a bit of apparel on…"

Chaos took over from there.

*********

Daria's hands still stung from where Pentuo had struck them with his switch, but she bore the pain with pride. She'd almost reached her goal of becoming too much of a pest for this stuffy school to bother keeping.

As further punishment, she'd been consigned to dust the school library during lunch, which at least gave her some much-needed peace and quiet. Tucked away in the back of the building, the library had more books than Drenlyn's but consisted almost entirely of the standards found everywhere else in Tamriel. At least, she supposed, the Cyrodiilic School's roof wouldn't cave in as easily.

"Hope you like dusting," came Skip's sneering voice.

Startled, Daria stepped to the nearest window, pushing open the panels so that the street would see if Skip tried something.

"I did, until you came along," she said.

Skip stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. "I don't know who you think you are. This is one of the finest schools in the Empire and you act like it's some kind of one-room hick schoolhouse."

"I'm sorry that you fancy city-slickers aren't impressed with my simple country ways."

"You need to show respect!" he demanded.

"Why? Because you use your father's position to torment people? Maybe that intimidates Amelia, but I don't actually live here. In fact, I'd be happy to get out of here. I suspect you feel the same way."

"What are you getting at?"

Daria rolled her eyes. Gods, this guy was thick. "What I'm getting at is that both of us want me somewhere else. So go to your headmaster or your dad or whoever and take care of it."

Then he smiled, in a way that Daria wasn't at all sure she liked. "You know what? I will."

He exited the library, and Daria waited by the window until the sounds of his footsteps disappeared. Once they did, she resumed dusting. As much as she hated to admit it, she and Skip shared a common goal, one he'd likely expedite. But the weird, cold way he'd smiled gave Daria the uncomfortable feeling that she might've underestimated his cruelty.

Musical Closer - Closing Time, by Semisonic

I loved Quinn's analysis of Caldoran fashion. I mean really - who would bejewel moth silk?!? Daria is in top unfettered form as she effortlessly pisses off both Skip and the teacher. I hope Amelia doesn't draw too much collateral flack from trying to befriend Daria. I do question whether it was wise of Daria to share her objective with Skip. He was well on the way to executing his role perfectly. He might balk at helping Daria, regardless of how it might benefit him as well - he may be that spiteful.

Mom is a cipher. Which makes sense. I am sure it is a trait she cultivated for her career as a lawyer.

They did what with the moth silk? Heresy! Preach it Quinn!

Oh boy, what a truly engaging class. How to talk like an Imperial. And it is led by Ben Stein. I am surprised he did not start by taking the roll and asking where Ferris Bueller was?

Ahh, its the old dirty limerick gambit. Now I am trying to imagine what a Dwarven one would sound like, with those tongue-twisting names of theirs.

Uh oh, I think Daria may have been a little too honest with Skip at the end. This might backfire on her.

Yes, well it doesn't take an entire day to walk from Balmora to Caldera, but my characters have walked the distance probably over a hundred times by now, and I mean they actually walked, not run the whole way. Some of them also rarely use silt striders for travel (although I did have a posh gal who wanted easier travel). I think that's one of the differences in our playstyles; you tend to fast travel more than I do!

Most of the time I enjoy the road trips. So I'd say the distance is about 8 hours, with the vanilla timescale of 30. Certainly most of a day, for sure.

Appreciate your kind words (regarding moving). Often wondered what it would've been like if I'd continued to have that same core pack of friends over many years. Let me just press Pause right there. || Otherwise we'll all have to witness another Renee Ramble.


Anyway, laughing again! Because you'd think Quinn would love it here in Caldera, but really she doesn't, because she no longer stands out! And this is despite already getting hit on by some dudes in town.



Wow, this is really impressive, the stuff that's usually only written in the fashion mags! As the writer of this tale, you really about things most guys don't even notice.

Wow, she's sitting in Seth's seat. Daria wants to be a troublemaker. I mean Skip's seat. Wow, this is brilliant. She's actually doing it. Love the back and forth between Skip and Daria.

I have no idea what Skip sounds like on the show, but I'm picturing him with a laid-back SoCal accent. Like dude, that's my seat! Go tango with a mango!

This teacher's a jackass, too. He wants to get rid of their accents, what the buck?



Nice!

Overall, this tale goes in a lot of directions, in the sense that it makes the world feel nice and broad. I find myself wondering what happened to Synda, for instance. Did she actually continue to hook up with that nice fellow she met, during that awful "festival"? And what about Jane? I don't remember where the story left her, but I wonder if life's doing any better for her.

You don't have to answer, I am just illustrating the broadness of this tale.

Chapter 4

Tension prickled the back of Daria's neck as she walked to the Cyrodiilic School the next morning. Mom still hadn't made a decision, and her refusal to commit made Daria all the more certain that they'd move to Caldera. The only choice remaining? Hope that Skip got her kicked out and didn't screw it up too badly. Him being an idiot further complicated matters. She should have tried harder to make him think it was his idea to talk the headmaster into expelling her.

She sensed danger the moment she arrived at campus. Skip stood in the gateway to the courtyard, his chin raised, and holding out a parchment in his right hand. Amelia wrung her hands before him, her pleas low and rapid.

"I'm sorry, Amelia," Skip said, his nasal voice carrying down the street. "But you aren't wanted here any longer."

"But I was promised a position—"

"You were offered one," Skip interrupted. "Which was contingent on you meeting the high standards of the Cyrodiilic School."

"I don't understand." Amelia's voice trembled. "My marks are good!"

"There's nothing more to discuss. It's been decided that you don't fit."

"Is this… is this because my parents don't work for the company? My mom works for the Mages Guild at least, and they're important!"

Skip scoffed. "She's a secretary in the Mages Guild. But if you want to know why you aren't welcome…" Skip saw Daria and peeled his lips back in a sickening grin. "Why don't you ask your friend over there?"

Following his gaze, Amelia blinked when she saw Daria. "Huh?"

"Hold on," Daria said, not breaking her stride as she marched up to Skip. She grabbed the paper out of his hands and scanned the contents: a brief notice warranting Amelia's expulsion, marked with what she guessed was the headmaster's red wax seal.

"Skip, you wanted me out of this school," Daria said.

"Why no, Daria," he said, drawing out the 'no' to an absurd length. "Your mother, at least, has a very respectable profession. This school is for people like us. Amelia simply doesn't fit. I only wish you'd act the part of a Cyrodiilic School student. An apology could go a long way."

"Daria, what's going on here?" Amelia demanded.

"I'll see you in class. Not you, Amelia," Skip said, turning around and walking to the front door.

"Dammit," Daria said. She adjusted her glasses, trying to figure out what to say.

"Please tell me what happened," Amelia begged. "I got here this morning, and he shoved that stupid paper in front of my face!"

"Right. So, uh, yesterday I had an argument with Skip. He didn't want me at this school, and I didn't want to be here, so I suggested he simply conspire with the headmaster to get me kicked out. Apparently, he decided to go after you in order to get back at me."

"Huh? But… oh my gosh! Daria, I have so much riding on this! My dad worked so hard to get me here; he did free work for all their parents. This is... it's supposed to be my stepping stone to something better, so I can—"

Amelia sobbed. Daria froze. What the hell were you supposed to do when someone cried? It never fixed anything. She reached out and gave a few hesitant pats on Amelia's back before Amelia threw both arms around her and full-on wept into her shoulder.

"Uh, okay," Daria said. She held her breath for a few seconds and then pulled away. She couldn't think when someone was using her as a human handkerchief.

"Crying isn't going to get you back into school, Amelia," Daria said.

Amelia sniffed, and blinked back her tears. "Wow, Daria. That was really cold."

"Accepting the cold, hard truth is a good first step to figuring out a solution."

"Okay. So what do we do?"

But no solution presented itself. The facts were as followed: The headmaster was a close friend of Skip's dad, and Skip's dad worked for the company. Amelia had no such connections. It was another example of the vast web of family relations and old-school ties that bound the Empire together, supporting and undergirding all of its kingdoms, guilds, and temples. Pushing back against one strand only made the rest cling tighter.

What they needed was an expert. Someone who knew how to navigate this kind of complexity. A lawyer.

"Daria?" Amelia asked.

"I think we're going to need my mom's help on this."

"Won't she get mad at you for trying to get kicked out?"

"Her getting mad at me is a price I'm willing to pay if there's the slightest chance of pulling one over Skip."

*********

Helen's fingers gripped the armrests of her chair as she prayed for something to do. Erarik had insisted on her attending the office that day and meeting his star clients. They'd already gone through one, a pleasant Nord woman named Rifsa Blood-sworn, and all Helen could do was nod politely and make vague affirmative sounds while Erarik negotiated. She hated being the junior partner. She'd hated it in Charach, and she hated it even more in Caldera. The extra income didn't make up for the loss of autonomy. Besides, she knew the law better than Erarik. Why the hell should she follow his lead?

"Helen!" Erarik called as he walked back into his office. "I've got a very special client here today: Headmaster Corpullo!"

Erarik gestured to the man next to him, a bald Imperial with angular green cult tattoos running along the sides of his face. Corpullo smiled and nodded.

Helen got to her feet and bowed. "It's an honor to finally meet a man of your erudition, Headmaster Corpullo! My daughters have so many wonderful things to say about your school."

"Good! That means we're getting through to them," Corpullo said. "I hear you're from that barbarous den known as Balmora. I'm glad you made it to civilization."

Helen forced herself to smile. "Well, we haven't quite made it yet. But we're considering the move."

"I certainly hope you do. We need all the good people we can get, and Erarik tells me you're the best."

I'd rather my sterling record tell you I'm the best, Helen thought. "I do what I can!"

The chirpy way she said that made her feel like a slow and insecure child trying to impress a teacher. No wonder Daria got so frustrated at networking. As her daughter, how could she be any different?

"Excuse me, Mr. Swift-wit?" It was his secretary, a slim young Imperial man.

"What? I'm with a client!"

"Forgive me," the secretary said. "Helen's daughter is here to see her, and she says it's important."

"Daria or Quinn?" Helen asked.

Probably Daria.

"Daria. There's another girl with her."

Headmaster Corpullo frowned. "Daria ought to be in school right now!"

At least this gave her an excuse to get out of glad-handing. "Erarik, would it be too disruptive if I see what's going on? She should be in school, like Headmaster Corpullo says."

Hopefully, that made her request client-centered enough to meet with Erarik's approval.

"Headmaster Corpullo, I apologize for this interruption—"

He waved it off. "Oh, no need. It's good to see Helen is so dedicated to her family. A citizen's virtues begin with family, after all."

"Thank you, headmaster," Helen said, cringing inwardly as she did.

Helen had to admit a significant sense of relief as she left the room, one that faded when she saw Daria standing rigid with her shoulders bunched up, like she always did when something was wrong. She had no idea what the bespectacled girl standing next to Daria had to do with the situation.

Daria cleared her throat. "Hi, Mom. I guess I'll get right to the point…"

Musical Closer - Say It Ain't So, by Weezer

Uh oh, Skip did wriggle sideways and do something unexpected. He went after Amelia to get to Daria. What a c*&t!

How to strike back? A lawyer! It looks like Daria did indeed learn a thing or two in school.

It looks like Helen is indeed chafing under the restriction of going back to being a Number 2, when she had been her own boss for long. I think it might not take much to tip her over the edge of saying No to Caldera.

That "barbarous den known as Balmora"? Wow, this guy is pretty clueless. Not to mention classist and probably racist and self-centered as well.

I'm proud of myself for following your clues well enough to predict Ship's nasty response. Daria is exactly right that she should have manipulated Skip into thinking getting Daria kicked was all his idea. I am glad to see she feels obligated to help Amelia. Without many great options, seeking Helen's counsel seems wise. Very interested to see where this goes.

You continue to weave a very fun to read tale!

Chapter 5[b]

Daria mentally prepared for the worst as she told Mom the story. It'd end, she was sure, with Mom suddenly looking years older than her actual age and uttering something like, "I am deeply disappointed with you." No shouting or yelling. Only the exhausted glare of someone who'd been let down too many times.

Yet Mom's expression only grew frustrated at a few points. She leaned closer, brow furrowed and eyes attentive, as if reading Daria's words on some imaginary parchment and looking for errors or weaknesses. Of course, Mom always put up a polite façade in public. Only at home would she drop the full weight of her crushing disappointment on Daria's shoulders.

"We reasoned that professional legal counsel was probably in order," Daria said, finishing her story.

"A wise decision," Mom said. "Oh, Amelia! It's good to meet you."

Mom bowed her head in acknowledgement, and Amelia curtsied as best she could in her robe. This got a chuckle from Mom. "Amelia, I think you're old enough to bow."

"Of course, ma'am," Amelia said, bowing her head. "Sorry, it's been a long morning."

"It certainly sounds like it." Mom looked back over her shoulder at the closed door, and then to Daria and Amelia. "Your timing was interesting. Headmaster Corpullo is actually chatting with Erarik in the other room."

"Oh no!" Amelia said.

No surprise that this wouldn't end well. "So, I suppose the iron law of pleasing your client means Amelia and I are back out on the street?" Daria asked.

"Don't be absurd, Daria. Corpullo is not my client. Nor have I decided on joining Erarik." Mom stroked her chin in thought. "Amelia, I'm going to be blunt with you: the odds are not in your favor. If what Daria told me is accurate—"

"It is," Amelia confirmed.

"Then, unfortunately, Skip, Corpullo, and Skip's father—and likely Erarik—will all help one another. Did your parents sign a contract with the school?"

Amelia nodded. "They did."

"Do they have a copy?"

"No. There's one big contract that's kept in the headmaster's office, which I think is the same. I sort of remember what it says: Basically, as a student, I've been let in because of my promising, uh, aptitude?"

"I was afraid of that," Mom said. "I'd need to see it to be sure, but it sounds like the kind of situation where your invitation can be withdrawn at any time."

"Right." Amelia sniffed. "I mean, I guess it is what it is—"

"Wait. Do you have a copy of the expulsion form?"

"I held onto it," Daria said, reaching into her satchel and taking it out.

Mom took the document. "Hmm, this is rather brief. I'd expect Corpullo to explain why Amelia wasn't welcome. All it says is that her time at the school has ended. Terrible penmanship, too," she said, shaking her head.

A thought came to Daria. "Amelia, you said that Corpullo's hardly ever at the school. Do you think Skip might've faked the document?"

Amelia looked thunderstruck. "Whoa! Maybe? No, wait." She shook her head. "There's no way Skip would go that far. Tampering with Corpullo's seal would get him in a ton of trouble."

"But, if he already thinks Corpullo's a family friend who'll stand for him…" Daria said.

"Girls," Mom interrupted, "that's all very interesting, but it's theorizing. We have no proof of fakery, and unless we get some, we need to assume the form is genuine. Though if this is the kind of document that gets Erarik's approval, I'm amazed he has any clients left." Mom rolled her eyes.

Amelia nodded. "I wish it were all a lie. But there's no way Skip would do something like that. Bad as he is. What do we do, Advocate Morgendorffer?"

Mom thought about it a few seconds before speaking. "Amelia, the best choice might be to simply talk to the headmaster and hope for his mercy. Maybe I can soften him up a bit. He won't want to look overly harsh in front of me and Erarik."

"What?" Daria exclaimed. "So we kowtow to his academic majesty and hope he lets Amelia back in? You can't be serious!"

"Daria, I am entirely serious."

"I know the system's corrupt, but as a legal advocate, isn't it your responsibility to make at least some attempt to protect citizens? To ensure that maybe, just maybe, the people with deep pockets can only get away with most of their misdeeds instead of all of them?"

Mom stared right at her. "I wish that were the case, Daria. But it isn't. You and I are the people with deep pockets. And right now, our responsibility is to do something that will help Amelia. That means assuaging Corpullo's ego and not saying a single bad word about Skip or his father."

"It's okay, Daria," Amelia said. "I'll apologize."

"You shouldn't have to."

"All right then, it's settled," Mom said. "I'll go in and try to smooth things over. You will have to accept some blame for this, Amelia. Act the part of a contrite student. I am sorry that you have to do this."

"It's okay," Amelia said. "I'm glad you're helping me."

"Follow my lead," Mom said, handing the expulsion notice back to Amelia.

Mom opened the door into Erarik's office, and Amelia followed. Daria boiled in rage. Unfairness she could accept; it was part and parcel of life. But to actually apologize after having done nothing wrong? Why did Amelia take it? Didn't she have any pride?

Headmaster Corpullo looked exactly the way Daria had expected: a Nibenese Imperial swaddled in moth-silk and easy living. No surprise that he hardly ever showed up to work. The man's lizard-like gaze barely seemed to register her or Amelia as they entered, his attention on Daria's mother.

"Daria here has certainly been impressed with your school's library," Mom said, giving Daria a quick, knowing look.

Sighing, Daria went along with it. "The Cyrodiilic School's library has everything I expected to find," she said. Which wasn't exactly a lie, given the selection's cliched nature.

"She's already told me so much about her peers, like Amelia here," Mom continued.

"Ah, yes," Corpullo said, his face unreadable. "How is your father... the baker, correct?" he asked Amelia.

"Forgive me, headmaster, but he's a gardener."

Corpullo's bushy eyebrows went up at that. "Oh! Well, I trust he's doing well. Forgive me, Advocate Morgendorffer, but I'd be amiss if I didn't ask these girls why they aren't in school." He looked back at them. "So why, exactly?"

That's when it clicked: Headmaster Corpullo had no idea what had transpired. Daria looked at her mom and then back to Amelia, a shared understanding passing between the three of them.

"Excuse me, headmaster…" Amelia started and then faltered. "I got this expulsion notice."

She presented the document to Headmaster Corpullo, whose brows knitted together in puzzlement as he took a closer look.

"Is everything all right?" Erarik asked.

"Ah, no, not exactly. It appears that someone overstepped their authority. I did not authorize your expulsion, Amelia," he said.

Amelia breathed out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank the Divines."

Skip had apparently been arrogant enough to try and get away with it.

"Forgery's a serious offense," Erarik said.

"Amelia, do you know why this might be? No one's complained about you," Corpullo said.

Amelia glanced at Daria, eyes begging her not to reveal too much.

"If I might speak—" Mom said.

"Just a moment, if you please, advocate. I'd like to hear it from the girls."

"Um, I'm not sure," Amelia said, stammering.

Amelia's breathing quickened, her hands clenching and unclenching. The whole network surrounded her, ready to attack if she fell out of line. Like Mom had said: the law couldn't do much to help.

"We found it tied to the gate with a bit of twine," Daria said, every cell in her body revolting at the idea of protecting Skip. But Skip was the son of Corpullo's friend, and if push came to shove, Corpullo would always take Skip's side.

"We thought it was a strange way of informing her," Daria continued, "but it had your seal."

"Indeed, it does." A grim, knowing look settled on Corpullo's face. He was obliged to tolerate Skip, but maybe he knew a bit about the kind of person he was. "I think this is something we can handle internally. It's human error, I'm certain. Also, I'll be sure to inform any relevant parties not to do something like this again."

"That sounds very sensible," Mom said. She gave Daria a quick smile.

"Amelia, you're welcome to return to class. Daria, I'm impressed that you stood by your friend, especially given that you've not been here very long," Corpullo said. "Loyalty is a classic Imperial virtue."

Maybe Skip would be disciplined. Maybe not. Maybe he'd go on and on, casually wrecking lives with his pride and power. Daria hadn't done anything to stop him.

Musical Closer - Long Line of Cars, by Cake

I can so hear “I am deeply disappointed with you.” in the voice of the actress who played Helen on the TV show.

Hmmm, did Skip fake the expulsion? Unlike Amelia, I would not put it past him. The kind of person he is does not stop until someone confronts him and forces him to. Not even then really. They just do the same thing to someone else who can't stand up for themselves.

Mom really shows her worldliness and understanding of the politics of power here. In the Revolutions podcast the host Mike Duncan identified that successful revolutions have two components. One are the people from the working class fighting in the streets and manning the barricades. But by themselves they are just rioters. They need people from the professional classes like lawyers - like Helen - who know how to walk in the halls of power and deal with the people who have lived their entire lives there. People who can translate the nebulous will of the people into solid demands that the government can be forced to meet. I am not saying that Helen is a revolutionary. But she is cut from the same cloth as people like John Adams, who understand how power works.

And the use of subtlety and tact wins the day, rather than sarcasm. I wonder if Daria is taking notes? In the very least Amelia gets to stay in school. What happens to Skip, if anything, remains to be seen.

Wow, I wasn't expecting that! Forgery, and Helen clever enough to quickly consider it. She was definitely the hero here. And I'm pleased that Helen and Amelia were able to coax Daria into swallowing enough of her pride to take the wise course. The immediate result here was good. We can only hope that the headmaster is alerted to Skip's foul machinations.

She's got a good head on her shoulders. Like Paris Hilton. You look at Paris, you think 'there's a vapid chick'. Clueless, just like the movie. Then you start reading her list of accomplisments...

Oh man, Daria's already back in danger? What?? they're kicking Amelia out? Ah geez. What an ass. Why do people have to suck so much?

wait. Uh oh. The headmaster's showed up to mom's practice. Whoa, the headmaster has tats???



I love that part! Bwaaaa!!!!!

Well, mom's not so thrilled about the office people she's met so far. Seems this could be why she's not too upset.

SubRosa nailed it though. Mom/Helen really speaks like a lawyer. Like when she frankly tells Amelia what's up, and then asks if her family signed a contract...

Yeah, good call. As they speak to the headmaster he seems almost bored. "Why aren't they in school?" but he doesn't ask this in anger. So yeah, something's up.

Honestly when this chapter began (actually, last chapter) I at first thought it was some kind of ruse between Skip and Amelia. Like, all of this is for pretend, maybe to make Daria fall in line.

Chapter 6

Gathered outside Erarik's home on a bright and rosy morning, the Morgendorffers bade farewell to their host.

"Are you absolutely sure you won't reconsider, Helen?" Erarik asked. "Again, I could use someone like you on my team."

"I am flattered, Erarik," she said, "but what I want is to build my own firm in Balmora. Maybe I'm too much of a control freak," she laughed. "I'm sure my girls would think so."

"Well, if you ever change your mind, my door's always open."

"Thank you, kindly."

Standing nearby, Daria let out what felt like all the accumulated tensions of the last week in a single, long exhalation. They were going home to dirty, dangerous Balmora, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

The four of them set off down the street, packs on their backs.

"Caldera's nice," Dad said, "but you know what? I was starting to miss having bugs for lunch."

"Bugs are like pure protein, so you can't get fat from eating them," Quinn said. "And I don't even think these gowns from the Imperial City are all that great. I can get way better ideas by watching people in Balmora."

Daria listened but said nothing, glad to be leaving Erarik's stuffy home and the miserable, uptight town surrounding it.

"Daria," Mom said. "That's Amelia over there."

Daria's eyes followed to where Mom pointed. Sure enough, Amelia hurried toward them, a smile as bright as the dawn on her face.

"Hey! I wanted to catch you guys before you left. Advocate Morgendorffer, thank you so much for helping me out. I don't know what I'd have done on my own."

"Of course, Amelia. It's not often I get a chance to help someone who deserves it."

"Daria, thank you for sticking with me. And for, well, going along with the lie. I could tell that wasn't easy for you."

"Hey, what's a little complicity between friends?" Daria said.

"I got some presents for you guys." Amelia unslung her pack and opened it. First, she took out a bolt of fine blue moth-silk. "This is from my parents. They were thrilled with what you did, Advocate Morgendorffer, and they wanted you to have this."

"Oh, my goodness! This is an amazing gift, Amelia. Why, I'm not sure I can accept this!"

"Please, Advocate Morgendorffer. It's on us. You did a lot for me yesterday. I'm sure Quinn knows which dressmaker in Balmora to take it to."

"I do, in fact!" Quinn said. "Antava is probably the best overall choice, but if you want some of that Dunmer flair, it'd be better to go with Rindral..."

She kept talking.

"Daria," Amelia said, "I know we never got a chance to talk about books, so I thought I'd give you one of my favorites."

Beaming, she reached into the pack again and withdrew a thick and well-worn tome bound in white leather. Daria took it.

"The Tales and Deeds of Lord and Lady Chesamere of Daggerfall, or A Romance Most Perilous," Daria said, reading the cover aloud. Renowned as one of the longest and cheesiest of Breton chivalric romances, a genre already known for length and cheesiness.

"I don't know if you like that kind of book, but it has great romance and adventure! Made me want to see all of Tamriel," Amelia said.

"I'm sure I'll find it interesting," Daria said. "Since you're giving me a book, I'll give you my copy of Palla." Daria took that slender volume, which she'd carried with her all the way from Charach, out of her own pack.

"Oh wow! Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. It's an adventure story. Of sorts." Daria hesitated. It didn't feel right to trick someone as guileless as Amelia. "It, uh, might be a bit more morbid than what you're used to."

"Ooh, okay! Ha ha, well you know what? I should probably broaden my reading horizons anyway," she said, taking the book. "I know you aren't much for this but is it okay if we hug? I feel like you've been my friend for a long time even though we only met a few days ago."

"Sure, but only because we're in Caldera. I have a reputation for aloofness that I need to maintain in Balmora."

Amelia hugged her tight while Daria stood there, finally raising her stiff arms and returning the gesture, only relaxing when Amelia disengaged.

"I guess you'll all be on your way then. Thank you again. And if you ever come back to Caldera, let me know!"

"We will," Mom said. "You aren't going to be late to school, are you?"

"Oh, well, about that." Amelia gave a nervous chuckle, and then took a deep breath. "I told my mom and dad everything that happened yesterday. I decided that I don't want to go to the Cyrodiilic School anymore. My parents are okay with that."

"That school offers a lot of opportunity," Mom said.

"I know. But I don't want to live in fear all the time. Skip's still there, and he'll never be punished for what he did. Not really, anyway. The good news is that I'll be getting my education directly from the Mages Guild from now on."

Daria decided not to say anything about her own experiences in the guild. It probably wasn't the worst place for a serious student like Amelia.

"I'll tell you, Amelia, many of Tamriel's most important people got their start with that guild. It'll be a challenge, but I think you're up for it," Mom said.

"I'm sure. Thanks again, you guys!"

"Of course."

The Morgendorffers waved goodbye.

Once out of town, they traveled the stony road back down to the Odai river basin, where the sprawl of Balmora awaited. Daria put one foot in front of the other through the heat. Sweat trickled down her face and her back, but she was too happy at the thought of going home to mind that much. The family took a short break for lunch. When they resumed the walk, Mom slowed down for a bit and fell in next to Daria.

"I'm proud of you for going along with Amelia's lie. I know it wasn't easy."

"As much as I wanted to make Skip pay, I don't have the right to sacrifice Amelia's livelihood."

"I know. Maybe one day we can make it better, bit by bit. But that won't be for a long time."

Daria wondered about that. They hadn't taken any serious action. "What finally moved you to turn down Erarik's offer?" Daria asked.

"I'm not sure I ever wanted to take it. I'm an independent kind of woman, Daria. I like working on my own. To tell you the truth, I never much cared for Erarik. I'd already more or less decided to say no, but that episode with Amelia made it easier."

"Are you telling me that there's still a human heart beating within that callous lawyer's hide?"

Mom chuckled. "Yes, but keep that sort of thing to yourself."

"Your secret's safe with me, Mom."

Musical Closer - Waiting for October, by Polaris

The End

Helen is leaving. Yay! She made the right choice, for herself, and for her kids.

It looks like Ballessa Balmora has grown on everyone. Even Quinn has warmed up to the finer qualities of bug meals.

“Of course, Amelia. It’s not often I get a chance to help someone who deserves it.”
I am sure that is the truth...

Aww, and Daria is trading books.

I think the Mages Guild sounds like a better fit for Amelia. Though granted, it is not going to be a picnic either.

What a delightfully satisfying and touching conclusion to the Morgadorffer family adventure in Caldera! Helen made the wise call, her family is happy and, in my opinion, Amelia has grown a bit and is better off now than before the Balmora family visited. Daria even managed a bit of graciousness.

Exactly! ... Is Paris lazy and dumb? Or is she actually quite motivated? Intuitive. Intelligent. Not in a rocket-science sort of way, but more like she's got some business sense. Part of it is she no-doubt surrounds herself with plenty of nameless others who make plenty of decisions for her. And it doesn't hurt that she grew up with money (LOTS of money) but plenty of others who have family money do nothing but squander it. 💰

Too bad Oblivion didn't have some of the features described in the Pocket Guide. I wouldn't want Cyrodiil to be a jungle, but the more-diverse description of Imperial cuiture (along with a few other things I'm forgetting) sounds really cool. There's supposed to be more of a diff between Nibenese and Heartlanders, I think. Or is it Colovians. Ah, my lore-knowlege kinda sucks!

Well cool. Sounds like mom doesn't to move from Balmora, either.



Wow! Also, the part when dad misses having "bugs for lunch". Aw... but I'm actually rather sad Amelia's last episode, this looks to be.

On the other hand, it'll be good to read about Jane again. And the Argonian. And the Fashion Club (If it still exists). And even Synda.

Polaris. I don't know this song. But reading the comments on the YouTube page it seems to be just after my generation. The song was featured on Nickelodeon, which I totally missed. That was more my younger sister's show.

Episode 21: The Summer of My Ashlander Nomad

Chapter 1

Daria first started practicing the arcane a week after her return from Caldera. She did it because of the memories from the past year and a half weighing down on her: Synda's attack, the nix hound near the shrine, and Todis and Shalfar chasing her down the nighttime streets with knives drawn and murder on their minds. She did not know how to protect herself. Clumsily wielding Dad's sword, which she was barely strong enough to swing, simply wasn't enough. But magic was an art of the mind, which had always been one of her stronger points.

So, one Loredas morning, when Quinn was out shopping, she sequestered herself in her room to practice a simple restoration spell known as quicksilver. It'd make her faster, which at least gave her the option to run away from a fight. More importantly, she'd already learned it thanks to her old tutor, Vandries, back in Stirk.

If only Vandries hadn't been too soft-hearted to teach her the spells of destruction.

For an entire morning, she sat cross-legged on the floor, her back against her bed. She'd taken off her glasses and closed her eyes, visualizing the bright white light of Aetherius shining through the pierced black veil of Mundus, the light seeping onto Nirn and animating every living thing, from dragons to blades of grass. All was possible within its glow. She imagined the sensations of speed: feet pounding pavement; wind rushing past her; sweat on her brow and back. And then she imagined going faster.

Her fingertips tingled as she touched the fabric of reality. She was a part of the universe, which meant the universe was her, so naturally she could bend its rules a little bit.

Her eyes opened to the sight of white light dancing around her hands. Her heart quickened, and her senses sharpened. She felt the speed she'd soon possess, and the equations of reality being rewritten in her muscles and bones.

Then, with an obnoxious "fffffzzz!" sound, the lights sputtered and went out, leaving her sitting in the dark next to her bed and realizing she should've probably sat on a cushion instead of on the hard floor.

She practiced whenever she could for the next month. The Mages Guild did not approve of unlicensed wizards. Getting caught meant a steep fine and a series of safety lectures from the local guild authorities. Given that one of those authorities might be her former supervisor, Hetheria, Daria wanted to avoid this. Which meant she had to close the windows and wait until her home emptied out, a rare enough occurrence in the Morgendorffer house.

She got better. But not by much. Halfway through the month of Midyear, with the hot sun hammering down on the dusty hills and bare rooftops, she cast one successful spell for every four failures. Which was an improvement. Just not enough of one. She practiced the three schools she knew, seeing tiny and incremental improvement in restoration and alteration and next to nothing for mysticism.

A Morndas afternoon late in the month, with Quinn in an emergency Fashion Club meeting at Tiphannia's house, gave her another chance. She hurried home right after school and went straight to her room. Mom was in the office downstairs but was too busy to bother her.

Daria wanted to learn levitation. It was useful for getting out of bad situations. Unless the person chasing her had wings, arrows, or rocks to throw, in which case the spell would just make her an easy target. The closest spell actually within her power was telekinesis. Which was probably for the best; safer to practice lifting random objects than risk bumping her head on the ceiling or floating in the air too long and having a nasty fall. She hadn't made much progress in mysticism, but she could still cast some spells in that school.

She sat on a cushion and closed her eyes. Mysticism wasn't that different from alteration or restoration; she just had to focus on the currents of the world around her, on the flow of magic, and the steady progress of time instead of on herself. She drew in the power as she had before. Her mind focused on the inkwell lying on her desk. Like all objects, the inkwell tended to stay on the ground. But what if it didn't have to? Think like a child, she told herself, and tried to believe that a tin inkwell could, in fact, float. Power surged through her nerves, buzzing again at her fingertips as it flowed out from her mind and body.

She opened her eyes to focus. Violet light gleamed bright in her hands. The inkwell seemed to shudder. She held her breath.

The inkwell stubbornly refused to lift.

"Dammit," she uttered.

Frustrated, she got to her feet. Her back ached for some reason, and she was still restless from the long hours in Drenlyn. Quinn wouldn't be home for a while, so it wouldn't hurt her to go outside and stretch for a few minutes. She opened the door to the balcony and stepped out onto the sun-beaten surface, the warm and dusty air swirling around her. A bunch of outlander kids played in the street below, using a rod to roll an old barrel hoop back and forth.

Daria stretched her arms, the sleeves of her faded orange wool shirt a bit too short for her. As she did, she saw her shadow on the outer wall of her parents' bedroom.

There was another, smaller shadow above her.

"Huh?"

The inkwell floated a few inches over her head.

Daria ran back into her room, and out of sight. Great move, Morgendorffer, she thought. She'd walked right out onto the balcony with visible and flagrant evidence of the arcane.

The spell fizzled out, and the inkwell—screwed shut, thank the Divines—bounced off her scalp and clattered on the floor.

*********

"Well, you haven't blown up your house or turned it into cookie dough. So I'd say you're doing pretty good. Though now I want cookie dough."

It was lunch. Daria and Jane idled in the library's cool and musty interior. Lli had at least picked a reputable contractor for the new roof.

"The problem is that I can only practice when I'm home, and Quinn isn't," Daria said.

Jane shrugged. "Isn't Quinn always going out to enforce her ruthless fashion dictates on our poor city?"

"Except when she's bringing her minions home to enforce those dictates on me. And some afternoons I'm working at my mom's office, and I can't practice with her around."

"I guess you could try my apartment."

Daria shook her head. "I'm technically not supposed to be doing this, and I don't want to get you in trouble by association. Maintaining their arcane monopoly is the one thing the Mages Guild legitimately cares about."

"I'd be surprised if they kept an eye on Labor Town."

Daria knew for a fact that they did.

"Hey, here's an idea: why not go outside of the city? Far from prying eyes?" Jane said.

"Hmm, I know a few places off the road where I could practice spells. And bury some bodies. Oops, you've heard too much; you're going to have to join them."

Jane laughed. "I'd welcome it. Anything to get me out of my latest commission. I need to get better at negotiating contracts. Don't suppose your mom would do some pro bono work for me?"

"Sorry, but that'd be violating her one and only principle. If it makes you feel better, I can buy you a round at the Lucky Lockup after school today."

"Wish I could join you. I have to work on this," Jane said. "In fact, I'm probably going to skip Sera Dimartani's class and go home after lunch."

"You've been making yourself pretty scarce on campus lately," Daria said.

"I know. I gotta hustle for commissions these days. School doesn't make much business sense for me right now."

Daria nodded. Jane only attended Drenlyn because it provided a source of clients, and since doing free work for Sera Defoe let her halve her enrollment fees.

Drenlyn's big bronze bell clanged mournfully in the courtyard, announcing an end to lunch. Daria and Jane collected their things.

"It's back to the grind for me," Jane said, sounding tired. "Sorry that I can't hang out."

"It's no big deal. The Lucky Lockup will still be there tomorrow."

"Unless one of your spells goes really awry."

"Really awesome, you mean."

As she entered the blazing-bright courtyard, Daria decided that since Jane was busy, she might as well try practicing magic outside the city walls that afternoon.

Musical Closer - Santeria, by Sublime

Oh noes! Not an emergency meeting of the fashion club!

Buffy really identifies with Daria's rationale for learning magic. Too weak to swing a sword or effectively wear armor - but of sharp mind. Self-teaching magic is a hard road but Daria's persistence is gradually yielding some results. Afore ya know it, she may be able to progress to invisibility, magic shielding and summoning help.

Somehow though, I expect bumps along Daria's path of arcane adventure....

Yea this is what I was saying many episodes ago: Seems like Daria could get involved with magic. She's got the smarts, she's disciplined, even her sarcastic demeanor fits. Daria's not arrogant like a lot of mages, but she's often quite contrary with her words.

Whoa, they're not allowed to practice on their own! That means a lot of our characters are doing illegal things! ... Then again, maybe things were different in the Years 424-25.

I like that you're including spell fizzle. Especially for a novice like her.



Why is it an emergency?

------------------------

If Heartlanders = folks from the city than that's good. I was guessing when Laprima refers to herself as a Heartlander. ❤ Anyway, yes that is what I'm talking about. There are supposed to be all these different sub-cultures in Cyrodiil, just for the Imperials.

K, but we can assume that the Fashion Club would eventually die if Quinn was forced to move to Caldera, right? Quinn just seems to have the pulse which causes other fashionistas to follow.

Sounds like you were of my younger sister's generation. I remember some Nick show you all would watch which had slime. Like, if you said the wrong thing, all the sudden you'd be covered in slime!

I read Santeria's lyrics at SongMeanings.com a while back because I was curious. Pretty sure that's the song which is about him trying to give up heroin. The singer just had a son, and was trying to quit so he could better himself. Of course, he didn't make it. But "Sancho" in the song is a reference to the guy's dealer at the time. "I'd pop a cap in Sancho and blow his head off...." he says. Something like that.

Daria is getting her arcane on? That sounds totally Rad!

Oh bring on those destruction spells baby! Seriously though, ever since she interned with the Mages Guild I have expecting Daria to get her spell on. She's clearly an intellectual, and in RPGs that means magic or science, erm, I mean SCIENCE!!!

I liked Daria's practicing. She is rusty to be sure. But practice makes perfect. As Blood Raven would point out, Rome was not burned down in a day.

An emergency Fashion Club meeting? Uh oh, did someone wear socks and sandals in school?!!?!

A cookie dough spell would be awesome. So would be a cure disease spell to deal with the salmonella and parasites afterward

So Daria is going to head to the hills to practice the arcane arts on the sly? What could go wrong? Hopefully Blood Raven will happen by, and take Daria under her wing.

I know, right? I'm so curious about this!

Don't forget Renee, your next character needs to be named Sal Monella.

(It came up recently).

SPEW!

Chapter 2

Daria was not one to be captivated by nature's wonders, but even if she had been, the rocky hills around Balmora wouldn't have offered much inspiration. Probably never a verdant place, it had only grown bleaker with the city's rise. Egg mines riddled the slopes like a disfiguring pox, and kwama effluvia stained the soil around each shaft.

She scanned the boulders and stunted trees for any sign of a place that might let her practice in peace. A few scanty groves that looked like they might blow away in a strong wind offered the only real possibilities. Hiking up to one, she surveyed her surroundings. A line of guar-pulled wagons inched their way to Balmora on the road below, while small riverboats drifted down the muddy vein of the Odai to the west. She doubted anyone would be looking at her, but magic did have a way of getting attention.

Not satisfied, she spotted another copse in the shadow of a taller hill. It'd be cooler, if nothing else. As she walked, the sun beating down on her bug-shell hat (she'd bought a new one), she considered the dangers of getting too far from the road. The wilderness around Balmora was supposedly safe enough, but Morrowind was never truly safe.

The next spot was at least a bit scenic; the wiry trees close enough together to give the illusion of verdancy. Waxy-blue stoneflowers grew on the ground; their smell faint but sweet. She was out of sight of the road and far enough from the Odai that she doubted even the most eagle-eyed boat captain would see her.

"Things seem to be going well," she said. "Which means that a wild kagouti will charge out of the brush and trample me right… about… now!"

She only heard the wind rustling through the leaves.

"Don't think I don't know you're there," she said. She took her waterskin from her belt and quaffed a long and lukewarm draught. With that done, she sat down on the ground and began to practice.

Concentration was tough at first. Every time she focused on Aetherius, something pulled her attention away: the wind blowing her hair, the thump of a wild scrib searching for food among the rocks, or the subtle taste of ash in the air. The more she ignored the sensations, the more pronounced they became. But she soon realized the key was to attune herself to them. Magic was life, after all. So she let the wind and the scents and the ash become part of her arcane schema.

Daria continued her practice of alteration. This time she tried out the shield spell since it could never hurt to have another layer between her and those who wished her harm. She brought the energies around her and they fizzled out. Well, the first time was almost never the charm. Taking a deep breath, she prepared again. Once more, it died on her fingertips.

Three more tries without success left her connection to Aetherius weak. She rested a while to restore it, drinking more water and watching the descending sun, its light hammered into the burnished gold of late afternoon. Once rested, she resumed her work. Again, the first one failed. Breathing in, she pulled the energies around herself, imagining arrows breaking against her shield. A surge ran through her arms, and a sound like a whistle filled her ears.

A moment later, and a sphere of soft violet light encased her. Daria smiled. She'd done it. And, as Vandries had said, each successful casting further attuned one's connection. Of course, failing five times still meant she wasn't ready to protect herself.

"Excuse me! Are you the wise woman of Balmora?"

Daria yelped, and jumped to her feet, her glasses almost sliding off her nose in the process. She grabbed them in time to keep them from falling. A blurry figure stood across the grove to her left, and she readjusted her spectacles for a better look. What came into focus was a young red-haired Dunmer, slight of build and dressed in a patchwork of carapace fragments and netch leather. Daedric script tattoos ran along his bare arms, and vertical lines of raised flesh had been cut onto his cheeks. The chitin spear strapped to his back made him look like a bandit, and Daria was glad her shield spell had worked. But his eyes, wide and curious, didn't seem to hold any malign intent.

"Uh, how long have you been there?" she asked.

His face turned solemn. "Forgive me, wise woman. I did not mean to intrude. I'm afraid I'm not very familiar with the rituals of Balmora's peoples. It's a gap in my education."

His voice was almost squeaky, by Dunmer standards anyway.

"It's okay. I guess. While I am a woman and certainly have more wisdom than some of my peers, I'm not sure I qualify as a 'wise woman'."

He nodded and stroked his chin. "You do seem rather young. I figured you might be an apprentice, but I did not want to disrespect your magic by saying so."

"Wise woman apprentice is probably an upgrade from unremarkable middle-class daughter. What's your name?"

"Tedannupal."

Then it all came together for her: his tattoos, the 'wise woman' references… this kid was an Ashlander, one of the Dunmer who still held to the old nomadic ways and were shunned by the temple and great houses. And, if the stories were true, potential robbers and killers.

The shield suddenly vanished, leaving nothing between him and Daria but a dozen feet of air.

"I'm Daria Morgendorffer." She'd never heard of Ashlanders living around Balmora. The egg mines and hardscrabble farms didn't leave much room for pastoralism. "Are you an Ashlander?" she asked, eyeing the road in the distance. Maybe she could try that quicksilver spell for a boost if she actually managed to cast it.

"My father was! He was of the Odaishannabab, whose lands once stretched from the Odai Plateau to the western shores of Lake Masobi. He's a farmer now, and I suppose I'll be one, too."

Daria relaxed a bit. The guy wasn't exactly an Ashlander, only someone descended from those who had settled down.

"Forgive me if I'm being intrusive, but what are those strange discs over your eyes?" he asked. "I've never seen anything like them before."

"These? These are glasses. My eyesight isn't that good, but I can see okay as long as I wear them."

Tedannupal walked up to her, his head askance and eyes curious. "How curious! May I take a closer look? Are these magic?"

Daria stepped back, not quite comfortable with how close he was. "No, it's the implementation of glasswork based on our understanding of the human eye. There are spells you can use to get the same effect, but I don't like the idea of having to constantly cast them on myself. Though I guess that would make for good practice."

"May I try them on?"

Daria hesitated. "Sorry, but I'm not in the habit of lending these to people. Bifocals aren't easy to get around here, and I already lost one pair."

Tedannupal nodded. "I understand. I certainly would not lend my eyes to someone else. Though mine aren't very good either." He gave a quick, shrilly laugh, and then sighed. "My father says that someone with my eyesight could only ever be a spear hunter. Is your father a skilled hunter?"

"He's great at hunting for things to be angry about. But if you're relying on him to hunt for game, you might as well turn vegetarian."

He stared at her, uncomprehending. "He hunts for things to be angry about?"

"It's a joke," she said. And maybe, she thought, a bit harder on her dad than was warranted. "My dad's a good guy, but he gets easily irritated when he thinks he's getting a bad deal from the local shopkeepers. Which is often."

"Oh! He doesn't want bad deals… so he hunts for good deals?"

"That's actually a pretty accurate assessment," Daria said. "My mom hunts for clients, and she wants me to hunt for networking opportunities."

"Curious! So, for your people, 'hunting' can also refer to seeking things other than wild game?"

"Correct."

"I'm learning a lot today! Though since you're a wise woman apprentice, you'd be hunting wisdom?"

"Uh, just so we're clear, I'm not any kind of apprentice. Not formally, anyway," Daria said. Somehow, the idea of lying to Tedannupal bothered her. The guy seemed completely open. It wasn't as if he'd report her to the Mages Guild. "I'm practicing magic."

"Interesting. But isn't it dangerous to practice such things without guidance?"

"I did get some formal training years ago, so I'm not clueless. It's more that I'm not on the best terms with the official practitioners of magic down in the city, so I have to cast spells out here."

His eyes somehow got bigger. "Wow! Not only am I meeting an Imperial, but one who rebels against her own system! The Empire sounds very decadent. Millions of people yoked to a single tribe, not knowing each other's ways or customs, and all seeking to exploit one another. I'm amazed you're able to hold together at all."

"Never underestimate the power of bureaucratic inertia."

Tedannupal nodded and stroked his chin. "You know, in an Ashlander tribe, you'd have the guidance of the wise woman when it came to practicing magic."

"Sounds nice," Daria said. "But what if I don't get along with the wise woman?"

"She'd be family. Whatever the problem was, you'd work it out."

"You clearly haven't met my family."

He laughed again. "This sounds so exciting! I don't truly know how true Ashlanders handle such things, but my father tells me of the old ways. The only life I've ever known is the farm."

Daria searched the horizon for any signs of habitation. "You're pretty far from the farm."

"I'm on my way to Balmora. My uncle lives on the outskirts, so I'm going to check on him tonight. Tomorrow, I'll go to the market to buy some tools that my father needs. He is worried about me going there on my own because outsiders lie the way Ashlanders breathe."

"Balmora can be pretty treacherous."

"Perhaps, but you live there, and you've been quite friendly. I only stopped by this grove to get some comberries. I wasn't expecting to meet anyone."

"There are comberries here? I thought they only grew in the Ascadian Isles," Daria said.

"A few of them grow here as well. You just need to know where to look."

Tedannupal knelt and reached into a patch of ferns with both hands. Soon, he withdrew two fistfuls of pink comberries.

"Take some!"

"Uh, sure."

She extended her right hand, and Tedannupal poured a bunch of the berries into it. Daria popped a few into her mouth, savoring the sweet and sour flavor of the fruits.

"These are great," she said and spat out the seeds.

"It's puzzling to me that the House Dunmer let them ferment. It ruins the flavor."

"Might ruin the flavor, but it brings other benefits," Daria said. Saying that made her feel strangely corrupt.

They snacked in silence for a while as the sun continued its journey west. Daria finished her share and looked at the reddening sky.

"I should probably head back. I'm happy to guide you to the gate, though I doubt you need the help."

"Certainly! You can tell me all about the Empire."

Tedannupal raised his juice-stained fingers to his lips and whistled. Leaves stirred in the undergrowth, their rustling joined by a faint clicking sound. A beetle emerged from the foliage. It looked like one of the rubbish beetles that clustered in Labor Town's back alleys, but this one was almost the size of a wheeled cart. Unlike the bruised and mottled colors of the city beetles, its shell shone an iridescent green. A few packs had been strapped to the top of its abdomen.

"This is Zadurannabit! She's served my family for years."

Thus, with Tedannupal and Zadurannabit in tow, Daria began the hike back to Balmora.

Musical Closer - Summersong, by The Decemberists

You don't really need to explain the fashion emergency. As someone who has watched the show, the Fashion Club going into emergency sessions is a pretty common event. It is just fun to speculate (sarcastically of course) over the possible reasons why.

Effluvium staining the slopes around the shaft? Are we getting into pR0n now?

I do love Daria's bug shell hat.

This is bringing back that Whee-ee-oop sound of my spells failing time after time while playing Morrowind. Frustration can be very... frustrating at times.

The wise woman of Balmora? Why yes, yes Daria is indeed.

Am I guessing correctly that this new fella might be an Ashlander, with his tats and ritual scarification? That seems a little unusual even for Dunmer.

It's Ted! I remember him. I actually liked him. Unlike modern home-schooled kids, he wasn't a christo-fascist.

Daria's dad absolutely hunts for things to be angry about...

I really like how you took Ted from the show and wove the Ashlander culture around him like a cloak. It gives him a very natural sense of naiveté and wonder that stems from his being an outsider. Even more so than Daria herself.

And we have a pack beetle. Because this is Morrowind!

Wait, so there was no actual fashion emergency written up in your head, Clav? I was picturing something like one of those makeover shows. Somebody really doesn't know how to dress or something.



Lol, that's right, because the original bug hat got ruined, right? I forget how. Think it was when the library collapsed.

I'm laughing, but I'm also a bit worried. Because it sounds like Miss Daria's all by herself out, eh?

Yaaah! +1 Alteration!

And wow. This guy thinks she's a Wise Woman. Must be nice not to be immediately branded as an Outlander. Ahhh, so he's an Ashlander. Since his voice is squeaky, I am hearing him soundling like Fargoth. "What are those strange discs over your eyes?"

Ah, so he's based on a nerdy-looking guy from the Daria series as well. ARRGH it burns me up I can't watch Daria without paying!

------------------------------------

Oh yeah, so Quinn could just use the Mages Guild teleport. The club's still better with her present and available in Balmora though, I think.

Magic's not as hard as I'd heard before playing MW. As long as you're using spells which are part of Major skills, and Stamina (or is it Fatigue?) is at or near 100%, most spells won't fizzle. It can be like this even with a brand-new mage in Seyda Neen, which surprised me the first time I played a magic-user. There's an assumption that in the past, our character's already gone through all the training.

But that's why it totally makes sense that Daria's having a tougher time. Because she's not a seasoned mage. She's doing the part which our characters are assumed to have done when they were not proficient, yet.

Really enjoyed your description of Daria’s still early attempts to harness her magic. And that she finally made a bit of progress.

Outlander meets Ashlander! They actually seem to have a few things in common. Like Daria points out, he seems pretty far from any farm so I wonder what brings him to the outskirts of Balmora?

Chapter 3

Tedannupal peppered Daria with questions all through the walk back, which she answered as best as she could. She told him a bit about her life: her origins in Cyrodiil, her studies at Drenlyn Academy, and her friendship with Jane. He took it all in with his wide-eyed enthusiasm.

He finally split off at one of the grimy villages south of the city, where he said his uncle lived. Saying goodbye, Daria headed into the city on her own. Her mind kept turning back to him for the rest of the night. Part of her wished she'd offered to help him navigate Balmora. The city wasn't kind to the unready, and for all his outdoorsmanship, Tedannupal wasn't close to ready. She couldn't shake the thought of some shyster tricking him into a bad deal. One that, given his family's situation, he probably couldn't afford.

Lying in bed and listening to Quinn snoozing on the other side of the room, she realized she was making too big a deal of it. All Tedannupal had done was make weird conversation and give her some snacks. That didn't make him a great guy. For all she knew, he was secretly a murderer. But somehow, she didn't think so. She just wanted him to be safe.

Daria awoke early from restless dreams the next morning and stumped down to the kitchen to get ready with a cold breakfast and a pot of strong trama root tea. She set off for Drenlyn as soon as she'd finished, feeling vaguely cheated. She'd no sooner gone through the gates when Jonus and Julien jogged up to her, their expressions hopeful. Jeval, apparently possessing a modicum of sense, no longer hung out with them.

"Hey, uh, Quinn's sister!" Jonus said.

"Hello, Quinn's suitor," she replied.

"So, uh, we were wondering something," Julien said, eyes darting from side to side.

"Yeah. Could you like, make us look better? So we can impress Quinn?"

Daria crossed her arms and glared. "Why are you coming to me for fashion advice?"

Julien shook his head. "No, not fashion advice. What we want is, well, you know…" He waggled his fingers.

"Magic," Jonus said.

"Excuse me?"

"Everyone's saying you're a mage or something! Like you were levitating over your house the other day."

This was bad.

"Let me put it to you this way, Jonus or Julien," she said. "If I could levitate and go anywhere I pleased, why the hell would I stay here?"

Daria stalked off to Benniet's class as fast as she could, ignoring their cries of protest. Somehow, she doubted that this was all some wacky rumor started by a misunderstanding. Someone had seen her float that stupid inkwell, and with Drenlyn's student body being what it was, everyone wanted a favor.

No wonder the mages had formed a guild.

She turned the corner of Benniet's classroom, only to find herself staring into Satheri's sad and winsome eyes.

"Yes?"

"Uh, hi! Do you have a moment, Sera Morgendorffer?"

"This better not be about me casting a spell on you. Because I'm not a mage."

"But I heard that you could shoot lightning out of your hands!"

This was getting to be a bit much. "Then you heard wrong. Did Quinn tell you this?"

But Daria doubted that. Quinn was many things, but stupid was not one of them.

Satheri shook her head. "No, sera. I actually haven't talked to Muthsera Morgendorffer yet. I heard this from Sera Masanri. And she heard it from Agrippina."

"Who heard it from her best friend's cousin's uncle's boss," Daria finished.

Satheri gulped. "Forgive me, Sera Morgendorffer. I wanted to know if there was a spell that could make me braver?"

"I'd tell you that bravery was inside you all along," Daria said, "but that'd be a lie."

"That's why I need the magic!" Satheri cried.

Daria jerked open the door and fled inside, slamming it behind her. Befitting her lack of bravery, Satheri didn't follow her.

"Oh, Daria!" said Sera Benniet, busy opening the shutters to let in the dusty morning sunlight. "You're here early."

"I just couldn't wait for the lecture on the importance of finding a good patron for your business and/or nonprofit. That question is the sort of thing that keeps me up at night."

Benniet giggled. "It is pretty exciting."

Then she looked around the room, her eyes suspicious, and hurried over to Daria. "I've been hearing that you were summoning daedra in your basement. Is this true?"

Daria rolled her eyes. "No! I don't have a basement, and I certainly don't know how to summon daedra."

"Conjuration is supposedly one of the most dangerous schools of magic," Benniet warned.

"Exactly. And I don't practice conjuration." Which wasn't a lie.

"Good! I disapprove of unlicensed conjuration." Then Benniet leaned in closer. "But if someone did know how to conjure things, hypothetically, would they know how to conjure gold from Oblivion? I ask because Lli isn't paying me enough."

Daria sighed. This was going to be a long day.

*********

Daria spent most of the class session dispelling rumors and was in a considerably worse mood by the time Benniet let them out for lunch. It would have been nice to vent to Jane, but she no longer had any sessions on Middas.

Jolda waited for her instead, a worried look on her face.

"Daria, these rumors about you practicing magic aren't true, are they?" she asked.

Daria couldn't remember if Jolda's internship at the Mages Guild had ended or not. "No, and I'd appreciate it if people stopped asking. How the hell did these rumors start, anyway?"

"Agrippina," Jolda said. "She said she saw you on the balcony of your house with something floating over your head."

And from there, the story had gotten wilder.

Jolda continued. "This isn't a rumor you want going around. The Mages Guild takes this kind of thing really seriously."

"Right, a fine, and some lectures," Daria said.

Jolda shook her head. "There's more. The guild in Morrowind started clamping down extra hard on unlicensed magic because they're worried about Great House Telvanni agents. Now, it's a four-thousand septim fine, six mandatory magic usage lectures, wearing a magic detection and nullification anklet for five years, and being marked for future observation."

Daria's stomach sank. "I see," she said. "When did they start doing this?"

"Since the new steward took over last month. Look, the people in the guild are reasonable. I'm sure if you pay a visit to their office and let them ask you a few questions, you can clear it all up. But you should do it now before the rumors spread any further."

"Hey, it's that chick with the glasses! Can you cast a spell to make me stronger?" a nearby student asked.

In seconds, more requests started to pour in.

"I think we're at peak rumor," Daria said, backing away from the crowd.

Then Tedannupal, of all people, strode through the gate. He stood on his own, a bewildered expression on his face.

"Daria?" he called out. "Are you here? Is this Drenlyn Academy?"

Her heart soared with relief. She didn't know why, but seeing Tedannupal—honest, strong, and so utterly himself—felt like an escape from Drenlyn's den of intrigue. She jogged over to him. The other students held back, perhaps not sure what to make of the strangely dressed Dunmer in the courtyard, the spear strapped to his back in plain view.

"Yeah, it's me," she said, grabbing him by the arm and marching to the gate. The feel of his leanly muscled limb made her feel safe. More importantly, it gave her a chance to get out of Drenlyn and figure out her next step.

"I don't know why you're at Drenlyn," she said, "but your timing was perfect."

They passed under the gate and into the street outside, the crush of shoppers and porters giving Daria some protection from her idiotic peers.

"Daria, I think there's been a terrible mistake. The guards at the city gate thought Zadurannabit was a pest!"

"Your beetle?"

He nodded. "I explained to them that we rely on Zadurannabit as a beast of burden, but they took her! My father entrusted me with Zadurannabit, Daria. We're poor farmers and own very little in the way of livestock. I have to get her back!"

"Okay," Daria said, tabulating this new information. The day kept getting weirder, but at least she could help Tedannupal. "I'll do what I can. But promise me one thing."

"Of course!"

"Don't ask me to cast any spells."

Musical Closer - Turn Back Time, by Aqua

That's really fascinating, the way Tedannupal's fascinated with Daria. It's like when we were kids, I always wanted to have a wild friend who lived in the woods. Didn't know what TV and breakfast cereal and bicycles are, and so on. And then it'd be fun educating this girl or boy.

Shoot, I'll have to finish reading later... that's what I get for reading at work! Alright I'm back. It's weird, but now that I think about it I don't entirely trust this Tedannupal guy 100%. What if he's spying on her for the Tong or something such? Ha. Looks like Daria concurs.

Wow, these guys already think she's a mage. I'm really enjoying this aspect of the story, btw. Like I said last week, when we roll with mages (especially those who already have Major magic skills) there's the assumption that in their past, they've already done a lot of magical training. 🪄 Which means there's some sort of a story there. And what is this story? Did they study magic under the tutelage of some sort of uncle or aunt who is already fully-blossomed as a magic-user? Did they defy their family's wishes, going against them to study magic? ... and so on.

So it's neat to see a mage's early story being told, and in detail.

Four thousand drake fine for practicing magic unsanctioned? Maybe this explains why not everybody out in the world of Vvardenfell is a magician of some sort.

Well, maybe I was wrong about Ted being some sort of spy...or worse. Looks like they got his beetle. 🪲 Or is this a trap?

--------------------------------

Right, Daria's got some experience with magic, so she's on the board, so to speak. I'd imagine her Speechcraft has a few points as well (mostly from Taunt and Intimidate!)

Quinn also's got some skill. Fashion is not part of the Elder Scrolls series, but if it were, it'd be a high Minor Skill for her, developing into a Major as she gains Reputation points. Maybe Quinn's got some points in Illusion and/or Sneak too, without knowing it, as she could have the ability to make up costumes and disguises.



Grr, I hate that. I wouldn't mind paying if it was like ten bucks. No way I'm paying $70 though (or whatever figure was that I found).

’ “Hey, uh, Quinn’s sister!” Jonus said.
“Hello, Julien’s friend,” she replied.
“So, uh, we were wondering something,” Julien said, eyes darting from side to side.’
- - This little exchange was brilliant. It reminds us how Quinn-focused the J-boyz are and also that they are too dumb to recognize the insult in their words and certainly too clueless to appreciate Daria’s clever and quick retort.

Ahah, so someone did see Daria’s errant inkwell floating around. And the stories grow taller with each telling. By the time she gets out of the house, she’s inherited countless new 'friends' who all want a favor.

Hmm, I wonder how she’ll handle this. What occurs to me is for Daria to approach the one and only eyewitness to her recalcitrant spell, explain her situation and plead for Agrippina to ‘forget’ what she saw. Either that or cast a ‘forget’ spell on her (sorry, couldn’t resist).

Uh oh, Ted lost his bug of burden.

I always see "trama root" and read it "trauma root". Which makes it more interesting.

Whoa, Jeval actually showed some character development, and stopped mooning over Quinn? Good for him!

Oh boy, the grapevine is abuzz with Daria's supposed arcane might. She had better get on top of this quick, before Ranis Athrys sends someone to kill her.


“I’d tell you that bravery was inside you all along,” Daria said, “but that’d be a lie.”

“That’s why I need the magic!" Satheri cried.

Now that is logic I can circle around...


Time for Daria to learn to conjure up a new rumor to keep people distracted from her own (lack) of magical expertise.

Looks like Daria is out of the frying pan, and into the... giant bug fire? Hopefully she can get Ted his pack bug back, and find some way to avoid the terrible retribution that the Mages Guild is likely mete out to dangerous rogue mages like herself.

Chapter 4

Daria realized that she didn't quite know what she was doing. But that was par for the course in Morrowind.

After talking with Tedannupal a bit, she imagined the following scenario: the guards had picked Tedannupal out as an Ashlander by virtue of his tattoos, which didn't resemble the Dunmer standards. Like guards sometimes did with outsiders, they'd taken advantage of him and claimed his livestock was a pest. She'd never heard about guards prohibiting animals, though Zadurannabit being an oversized rubbish beetle probably hadn't helped matters.

They first went to the strider port gate to see if Zadurannabit was still there. But no luck.

"Zadurannabit's shell is marked with my family's symbol," Tedannupal said. "It's a Daedric monogram."

"People here don't usually brand rubbish beetles, so that should help," Daria said, going on tiptoes to peer over a line of crates by the stairways. Still no sign.

"I'm afraid Zadurannabit won't leave any prints on the stone streets. How will we track her?"

"You don't follow footprints in Balmora. Instead, you follow the business."

Tedannupal tilted his head to the side and the sun gleamed on his curled red hair, the strands fine and coppery like a Nord boy's. "How do you mean?"

Distracted by the sun's reflection on his hair, it took Daria a moment to respond. "Uh, well, you need to think like one of us corrupt and venal city dwellers. An animal requires a lot of food, so unless our guards were desperate for a pet, they'd try to sell Zadurannabit off as soon as possible."

"I'm sure the farmers on the outskirts would want such a beast."

Daria shook her head. "No. They probably wouldn't want to take her all the way to an outlying village. In Balmora, there's only two uses for a big bug like that: shells and meat."

Tedannupal gasped. "You mean they'll eat her?"

"It's a distinct possibility," Daria said.

"I'm sorry, Daria, but I cannot countenance the wastefulness of your people!"

"Hey, they aren't my people," Daria said. "I'm an Imperial."

"With respect, I'm not sure I see much of a difference between Imperials and House Dunmer."

Daria pondered that. "Fair enough."

Tedannupal wrung his hands. "Zadurannabit still has at least three more years of work in her and another egg clutch before it's time to eat her."

The pragmatic reality of farm life ended Daria's brief surge of indignation. "Right. In that case, maybe we can do something to make sure you and your family eat Zadurannabit before someone else does."

"Well, we did raise her."

"My guess would be that the guards sold her to the butchers in Shellbreakers Court, across the river."

"Is there an ashkhan or wise woman we can go to? Surely they would not tolerate this kind of behavior."

"You'd be amazed at what they tolerate. Come on, let's go. I don't know how much time Zadurannabit has left."

They hurried across the Foreigner's Span to the crowded warren of Labor Town. She'd been past Shellbreakers Court a few times and remembered it as a bloody square on raised land wedged up against the eastern wall. If the bug still lived, she was probably there.

For all the chaos, Daria had to admit she was glad to have something else occupying her mind. Finding a stolen rubbish beetle gave her a clear problem to solve. Defusing an already out-of-control rumor would be much harder. Any denial would be taken as confirmation. Sooner or later, the Mages Guild would stick their noses in to investigate. She knew they had all kinds of devices to detect magic usage.

Maybe Kavon could help. But she didn't know where to find him. Nor was there any guarantee that he'd go against the word of another guard. Better for her to focus on the problem at hand, she decided, and concentrated on finding Zadurannabit.

Soon, she and Tedannupal squeezed through the packed crowds of the Labor Town streets, the musky reek of sweat and grime like a noxious fog in the summer heat. But it didn't bother Tedannupal. His expression was awestruck. "There are so many people here! Are they all from Balmora?"

"Most of us are from somewhere else," she said.

"Wait! Is that an Altmer? From old Summerset?" he asked, pointing at a willowy high elf making his way through the throng with a look of distinct displeasure.

"He's an Altmer, alright, but he could be from anywhere. The Empire covers an entire continent, and people move around a lot."

"Oh, I wish I could see all of it. There must be so much to learn."

"There is. But we have to focus on your beetle."

"Of course. Heh, you're certainly wise enough to be a wise woman."

Daria tried not to smile, but she couldn't help it, her lips turning up as her face got hot.

"This is called wool?" he asked, staring in rapt awe at the stand of a Breton wool dealer who loudly advertised his wares.

"Yup. It's harvested from sheep. I'm wearing wool right now."

"What's a sheep?"

"A type of four-legged mammal, common in human lands."

"The wool is their shell?"

"Kind of. It's more like dense and fluffy white hair, actually."

He laughed. "That's incredible! You turn hair into clothes! Oh, I have to tell that to my father. Even he would find that fascinating."

She grabbed his forearm. "I'm sure, but let's find Zadurannabit so you can still go back to your dad."

She had to admit: It was kind of cool to see his reaction to things. His eyes turned the goods and commodities that Daria took for granted into things of wonder, hints of a vast and mysterious world that he hungered to learn more about.

She'd always loved to learn. As a child, she read each book her family possessed at least a dozen times, her mind lighting up with new facts and ways of knowing that she wanted to share again and again, to see her awe reflected in the faces of others. Except she never saw that. Instead, she gotten the bored expressions of people who wanted nothing to do with her. So, she learned to keep her thoughts to herself.

Maybe now she wouldn't have to.

The noontime sun blazed fierce above their heads when Daria first scented the rank stink of spilled blood. A line of workmen with gore-stained aprons revealed the way to Shellbreakers Court. The massive and oblong shell of a gutted and de-limbed silt strider lay in the center of the square, streams of ichor and other fluids flowing from the alcoves where the butchers had set up shop. Most of the meat was kwama, and broken shells of the same littered the slippery flagstones.

Tedannupal studied the nearest butcher and shook his head. "This is not how you properly cut meat."

"Keep an eye out for Zadurannabit," Daria said, looking around the gory scene.

"I'll take her back once I find her."

"Wait," Daria cautioned. "Do that, and they'll mark you as a thief. We'll have to negotiate. You're too pure to be a good negotiator, so let me do the talking."

Nearby, some rubbish beetles fed on the body of one of their own. None came close to Zadurannabit's size. Finally, she decided to ask one of the butchers, a scarred Redguard resting from his labors in the shade of the shell.

"Excuse me, but did you see an exceptionally big green rubbish beetle here? It belonged to my friend, and we think someone may have mistakenly taken it to the court to be chopped up."

"I did, actually. That was a big one." Then he shook his head. "A couple of guys were trying to sell it, but we already all got our own suppliers. Seemed kind of fishy, you know?"

"Doesn't get much fishier. Was this man a guard?"

"One of them had some bonemold armor like they wear, but I don't think so. Guards always go around with the full suit; he only had a chestplate. The other guy didn't have any armor, but he did have an ax."

"Interesting," Daria said, a clearer picture forming in her mind. Maybe the guards had actually been scammers lurking beyond the gates. Tedannupal wouldn't have known the difference. "Do you know where they took it?"

The butcher pointed down a nearby alley. "Down that way."

Daria frowned. The dark, winding little street did not look promising. "Uh, thanks."

"He might've sold it to some of the bottom-feeders out there, though I don't know if they'd have the money for that."

Daria turned to Tedannupal, who was transfixed by his surroundings. "Balmora consumes all of this meat?" he asked. "Surely not even the Dwemer had this kind of luxury."

"Actually, the Dwemer probably had a lot more of it," Daria said. "I explored one of their ruins once."

Tedannupal gasped. "You're incredible! Did they truly have herds of metal beetles? Did they capture sunlight in glass?"

"Yes, and yes. But as much as I'd like to tell you about them, we have more important things to worry about. The butcher said the guys took Zadurannabit that way," she said, pointing to the alley. "They might not have been guards, either."

"But they said they were!"

"By the way, I'm a dragon," Daria said.

"Excuse me?"

"My point is, people can say anything. You have to be careful taking someone at their word, especially here."

Tedannupal blinked and re-focused. "This den of lies both fascinates and repels me, Daria. But if the robbers are there and we catch up with them, I can kill them and take her back."

Daria tried to hide her shock. "Sure, if you want to get arrested. You can't just kill people."

But Tedannupal was already running toward the alley.

"Wait, you idiot!" She cried out, running after him.

Musical Closer - It's Alright Baby, by Komeda

The last time I played Morroblivion I double-crossed Ranis, and framed her as a Telvanni spy. It was quite satisfying.

Daria knows where she lives. Follow the money.

And a nice, if brutal, introduction into the reality of farm life and food ways. When my grandmother was a child back in Poland, and their family wanted to have chicken for dinner, her mom would pick up a hatchet, go out back, and cut off a chicken's head. She used to talk about they would run around with no head afterward. Good times.

We all end up in something else's belly in the end, even if it is just bacteria and worms.

At least Daria can enjoy the feeling of seeing the world anew again, through the eyes of someone who has never experienced it before. Plus she can distract herself from worrying about what Ranis is likely to do to her.

I am starting to think that the guards who shook down Ted were not guards at all.

If this Ted is anything like the one in the TV show, he can kill them and take the bug back. Ted was plenty good with a sword.