Chapter 4. Aftershock.
Several days had passed. Varvur did not recall getting up from beside the table in the Council Chambers, he did not remember walking out of the chambers or back to his own room. He did remember someone grabbing hold of his arm just as he was about to plunge his dagger into his stomach. It had taken several men, or women, to keep him from hurting himself. It wasn’t until someone had started chanting, and he’d started feeling very sleepy, that he let go of his weapon. When he woke he found his father sitting next to his bed.
Athyn had aged well. Still as tall and strong as he was in his younger years, all that seemed different was his face. A few more lines here and there, some grey streaks in his hair. He looked down on Varvur with those deep, knowing eyes and Varvur just broke out in tears. “It was all my fault, Father; I let him die; I should have tasted the comberry juice again. It should have been me lying there, not him. After everything he did for us, I let him down so much. Oh Father how can I face people again?”
“Yes Varvur, you should have tasted the wine, and you didn’t. Had you, I would have lost a son. Instead, I lost a friend. Neither is something I wanted.”
“Father, how can I redeem myself? Would not the best course be to take my own life, and make sure my family suffers no blame?”
Just then he noticed standing next to Athyn was a magnificent blade. He recognised it at once as he’d seen it so many times on the wall of the rooms of lord Nerevar; the ebony long sword given to Nerevar by Vivec after lord Nerevar destroyed Dagoth Ur. Varvur had always wondered if Vivec knew when he gave the sword to Nerevar, that just a few months thereafter he’d be slain with the same blade. Varvur looked up questioningly at his lord father. “With permission of the other house councils, I’ve taken the sword of lord Nerevar. We wish it to be your tool to redemption. Varvur, listen to me, you cannot bring back lord Nerevar. You could die yourself, but what purpose would that serve? One thing you can do, however, is bring the murderer of lord Nerevar to justice. Take this blade and with it, slay those who slew lord Nerevar, the man who gave the order and all who knew of it and did nothing.”
Athyn stood up. “The guards here have looked for clues but found nothing. I assume will you do better. Tonight we hold the ceremony for lord Nerevar’s funeral. Pay your respects, and then redeem yourself through justice. I will see you tonight and after that, again once you’ve brought justice.” Varvur swallowed hard at that; he knew what his father was saying. He would not be welcomed back at his ancestral home until justice had been served. But at the same time he knew what he had to do. “Very well Father, I will see you this evening.” As Athyn left the room, Varvur heard him say “Good luck.”
Varvur spent the rest of the day meditating. His teachers had taught him inner rest is as important as skill with a blade for a warrior. Concentration comes through inner rest and, without concentration, a warrior had better find a different profession. So meditate he did, allowing his thoughts to travel back to that dreaded day. He went past all the events that day, and after considering things carefully, he decided whatever had happened, must have happened when Jester entered. He had to question Jester. Somehow, someone must have known Jester would interrupt at some point, and thinking on it further, it must likely have been timed at that exact moment, just before Nerevar could name names, so either the mysterious Bosmer was much more than he appeared to be and had been able to fool everyone, or someone had made sure he would enter at that moment by almost physically pushing him in.
And of course there had to have been someone else, someone who put whatever it was into the cup of lord Nerevar. Varvur reviewed the events that transpired after the door was knocked open. All the councillors had been in front of him, facing the door. So it could not have been any of them. All the guards as well. No guards stood at the back wall behind lord Nerevar and Varvur, an arrangement Varvur had himself made. So Councillors and guards were out. That left the heralds and the servants. He remembered the heralds rushing to a side exit but he did not recall seeing the servants. Assuming the heralds had not done it, which was a good assumption based on their placement in the room, there were 4 servants. The servants had circulated throughout the room even while Nerevar was speaking; Varvur had not marked their locations as carefully as he should. Before he gave in to despair and self-recrimination, he recalled his father’s words. Justice must be served. In fact, it was even possible that the plotters had hoped that Varvur would take his own life, an action which would have hurt his father, one of Nerevar’s most loyal supporters. His duty was clear- he must live, not only to thwart the enemy, but to bring him to justice.
Varvur decided to question the servants first thing in the morning.
After freshening up and changing his clothes, Varvur made his way to the courtyard. He had decided to wear lord Nerevar’s blade as a message to the assassin. A large crowd had gathered in the courtyard already, men and Mer of all races together. Argonians stood next to Altmer, Orcs beside Bosmer, Bretons, Imperials, Dunmer, Khajiit, and Nords all were present. As Varvur walked through the crowd he felt the stares from all around him. He walked past most to stand at the very front of the crowd, next to the leaders of the Great Houses, Crassius Curio taking the place of absent Vedam Dren. And at the very centre, he saw king Helseth standing with his royal guards surrounding him. As Varvur approached, he saw Helseth looking him over. And he definitely noticed the sneer on his mouth, and the almost mocking expression in his eyes. Varvur was glad he had meditated; just a little less concentration and he might have done something that he would regret. Not very much, but a little anyway. The thought made him smile, until he looked at the coffin displayed before them.
It was a large solid stone slab. probably weighing a ton. Carvers had carved the likeness of lord Nerevar on the top of the coffin as was customary in western lands. Dunmer preferred to burn their dead, but then lord Nerevar had obviously not been Dunmer. Inside the coffin Varvur knew lay the body of the now dead Nerevarine, Hortator of three great houses, Lord Nerevar reborn. Varvur had always wondered why lord Nerevar had never sought out houses Indoril and Dres to become their Hortator. Perhaps he had simply lacked time to make such a journey.
The Ceremony commenced, a long line of great men and women all sharing their tales about lord Nerevar. Ashlander Ashkans and wise women compared him to the moon and stars, Divayth Fyr recounted how he had at first thought lord Nerevar was a burglar interested in looting his dungeon, Patriarch SaOmayni told how wrong he had been before to outlaw teachings other than those the Tribunal approved, and how glad he still was that lord Nerevar had shown him the way. And so many more. The Nerevarine had touched many lives in Vvardenfell and beyond.
Last in the long line came the king himself. Helseth started by saying how sorry he was to see such a great man go. And how much he had admired lord Nerevar in life. Varvur had no doubt that quite a few people had to force their faces to remain straight at that. Helseth went on:
“People of Morrowind, hear me. As we said, a great man has died this week, but we shall not forget him, he shall never be forgotten here. It was brought to our attention that before he died, he abolished slavery. As a last salute to him we will ratify his decision. We, king Hlaalu Helseth, first of our name, hereby officially outlaw slavery. Slavery is no more and every slave owner is required within a week to release all of their slaves and allow them to leave their land. They may keep everything that they own as they leave.”
“Now I realise just before he died, lord Nerevar was going to announce the names of people he knew were corrupt and taking bribes. Unfortunately it doesn’t appear as if he’s written any of that down. Varvur, you were with him so often, do you know of anything he left? Perchance he’s left some things in your protection, as we all know how good you are at protecting things, eh?”
It took all of his self control that time, and a long look from his father. Varvur felt his hand on the blade, but seeing the royal guards reach for their weapon he quickly let go of the hilt. ‘I will get you for that one; one day I will get you for that Helseth,’ he thought to himself. What he said was something very different of course.
“Unfortunately not, my liege, though he told me many tales while I was here, nothing was put onto paper. Rest assured though, I will find those responsible and bring them to justice. In fact, I’ll present their heads to you personally. With your permission of course.” And at that he made a deep bow.
Sneering, the king turned his back on Varvur and finished his speech by wishing lord Nerevar blessings in his new life.
With that the ceremony was at an end, the priests using spells would now move the coffin into the prepared tomb just outside of Ebonheart where lord Nerevar would rest forever.
As the crowd dispersed, Varvur spotted the captain of the guards who was present when it happened. “Captain, a word with you if I may; this will only take a minute.”
“Fine, but be quick about it then.”
“All I want to know really is the names of the servants who were present when it happened, and where I can find them.” After Varvur had written down everything he needed to know, he went back to his room to lie in his bed.
Questioning Jester was impossible. The Bosmer was sitting on his bed, with his feet tucked beneath his body and rocking back and forth like a madman. He spoke in jibberish, and all the intelligible thing he said was “I was only trying to help, just trying to make them laugh.” Clearly Jester was scared senseless and would be no help to Varvur.
The first two questionings of servants proved to be fruitless. Tuvene Arethan was a Dunmer who had served in Ebonheart for many years now. She couldn’t stop sobbing during Varvur’s questioning and it seemed all she could remember from that night was being scared silly by a door pounding open, and then hearing the lord had died, upon which she had fainted. The second was Ruccia Conician, an Imperial lady who said little more then “Please don’t kill me, I didn’t do it, please don’t end my life, I‘m innocent.” The third person, however, a very nice Khajiit lady who had just moved to Ebonheart, did have some more information. She had taken residence in part of the now nearly abandoned Imperial Cult Chapels. She had nothing new to tell about what happened in the council chambers, but she did swear she’d seen a boat sailing away on the night of the murder. She had gone to look out the window not long after she’d gone to her room, and saw a boat sailing due east.
Now Varvur approached the place where he would find the fourth and final witness. For some reason he’d chosen to live in the Six Fishes Tavern in central Ebonheart. Varvur was almost certain what to expect, but he was still glad when he found his instinct hadn’t left him yet. The room of the fourth witness was very clean, too clean almost, as if someone had made sure to leave nothing behind with which someone could identify him. The bartender there wasn’t sure when he’d last seen the man, all he knew was that he’d been an Imperial, had payed 2 months in advance and made no trouble. And, the bartender added, that was all he needed to know. Varvur was pretty sure he’d found his man, and pretty sure he knew who had been in that boat. When he checked with the harbourmaster though, no boat matching the description of the Khajiit had been seen for at least a month.
The answer came to him while was questioning a guard who was on duty during the evening of the assassination.
“Yeah I had duty that night. Yeah I saw an Imperial walk past. It was when everything went nuts up there, all the screaming and yelling and everyone shouting lord Nerevar had died. I remember rushing up the stairs and an Imperial was coming down. I looked behind me before I turned the corner and saw him entering the small Imperial Shrine here. I do remember thinking to myself how odd that was, as I thought I’d locked it and the only other key is with the captain.”
“Could you open the door for me,” Varvur asked, “ I’d like to take a look inside.”
“Sure, so long as it doesn’t put me into trouble.”
The room was very small, really little more then 4 small walls and an altar near the centre. Varvur looked over the altar to see if there was something odd about it, but couldn’t detect anything. Walking along the walls he also saw nothing out of the ordinary, or did he? He didn’t see anything, but he felt something. At the joining of two walls in a corner he distinctly felt a light breeze. After he felt around, he found a line running there, a separation of the two walls. And more importantly, he found a hidden lever. Pressing it moved part of the wall aside to uncover a door.
Drawing his blade, he opened the door and found himself in an underground cave. He saw some of the foundation of Ebonheart so he concluded he must be right beneath it. Exploring the cave did not give him much more information, but when he was just about to walk back, he noticed there appeared to be a platform of some kind, some way above the ground. Clinging on to a few projecting rocks in the wall, he climbed to the top and found a small hidden camp. Someone had obviously spent some time there, he thought, as there were plenty of supplies lying around. Most of them appeared to have been prepared especially to remain good for a long time. Whoever had been living here did not want to rush himself.
The second discovery came when he noticed some air bubbles coming up. Still water isn’t supposed to have bubbles popping up like that. Discarding his armour and leaving it at the water’s edge, Varvur went into the water and followed the bubbles. He was lead to a small underwater door that when he went through it, led him just outside Ebonheart to a small cove, secluded from everyone, even from people looking at it from Ebonheart, a place where one could easily store a boat.
He knew he’d just come one step closer to finding the poisoner.
On to the next chapter
Several days had passed. Varvur did not recall getting up from beside the table in the Council Chambers, he did not remember walking out of the chambers or back to his own room. He did remember someone grabbing hold of his arm just as he was about to plunge his dagger into his stomach. It had taken several men, or women, to keep him from hurting himself. It wasn’t until someone had started chanting, and he’d started feeling very sleepy, that he let go of his weapon. When he woke he found his father sitting next to his bed.
Athyn had aged well. Still as tall and strong as he was in his younger years, all that seemed different was his face. A few more lines here and there, some grey streaks in his hair. He looked down on Varvur with those deep, knowing eyes and Varvur just broke out in tears. “It was all my fault, Father; I let him die; I should have tasted the comberry juice again. It should have been me lying there, not him. After everything he did for us, I let him down so much. Oh Father how can I face people again?”
“Yes Varvur, you should have tasted the wine, and you didn’t. Had you, I would have lost a son. Instead, I lost a friend. Neither is something I wanted.”
“Father, how can I redeem myself? Would not the best course be to take my own life, and make sure my family suffers no blame?”
Just then he noticed standing next to Athyn was a magnificent blade. He recognised it at once as he’d seen it so many times on the wall of the rooms of lord Nerevar; the ebony long sword given to Nerevar by Vivec after lord Nerevar destroyed Dagoth Ur. Varvur had always wondered if Vivec knew when he gave the sword to Nerevar, that just a few months thereafter he’d be slain with the same blade. Varvur looked up questioningly at his lord father. “With permission of the other house councils, I’ve taken the sword of lord Nerevar. We wish it to be your tool to redemption. Varvur, listen to me, you cannot bring back lord Nerevar. You could die yourself, but what purpose would that serve? One thing you can do, however, is bring the murderer of lord Nerevar to justice. Take this blade and with it, slay those who slew lord Nerevar, the man who gave the order and all who knew of it and did nothing.”
Athyn stood up. “The guards here have looked for clues but found nothing. I assume will you do better. Tonight we hold the ceremony for lord Nerevar’s funeral. Pay your respects, and then redeem yourself through justice. I will see you tonight and after that, again once you’ve brought justice.” Varvur swallowed hard at that; he knew what his father was saying. He would not be welcomed back at his ancestral home until justice had been served. But at the same time he knew what he had to do. “Very well Father, I will see you this evening.” As Athyn left the room, Varvur heard him say “Good luck.”
Varvur spent the rest of the day meditating. His teachers had taught him inner rest is as important as skill with a blade for a warrior. Concentration comes through inner rest and, without concentration, a warrior had better find a different profession. So meditate he did, allowing his thoughts to travel back to that dreaded day. He went past all the events that day, and after considering things carefully, he decided whatever had happened, must have happened when Jester entered. He had to question Jester. Somehow, someone must have known Jester would interrupt at some point, and thinking on it further, it must likely have been timed at that exact moment, just before Nerevar could name names, so either the mysterious Bosmer was much more than he appeared to be and had been able to fool everyone, or someone had made sure he would enter at that moment by almost physically pushing him in.
And of course there had to have been someone else, someone who put whatever it was into the cup of lord Nerevar. Varvur reviewed the events that transpired after the door was knocked open. All the councillors had been in front of him, facing the door. So it could not have been any of them. All the guards as well. No guards stood at the back wall behind lord Nerevar and Varvur, an arrangement Varvur had himself made. So Councillors and guards were out. That left the heralds and the servants. He remembered the heralds rushing to a side exit but he did not recall seeing the servants. Assuming the heralds had not done it, which was a good assumption based on their placement in the room, there were 4 servants. The servants had circulated throughout the room even while Nerevar was speaking; Varvur had not marked their locations as carefully as he should. Before he gave in to despair and self-recrimination, he recalled his father’s words. Justice must be served. In fact, it was even possible that the plotters had hoped that Varvur would take his own life, an action which would have hurt his father, one of Nerevar’s most loyal supporters. His duty was clear- he must live, not only to thwart the enemy, but to bring him to justice.
Varvur decided to question the servants first thing in the morning.
After freshening up and changing his clothes, Varvur made his way to the courtyard. He had decided to wear lord Nerevar’s blade as a message to the assassin. A large crowd had gathered in the courtyard already, men and Mer of all races together. Argonians stood next to Altmer, Orcs beside Bosmer, Bretons, Imperials, Dunmer, Khajiit, and Nords all were present. As Varvur walked through the crowd he felt the stares from all around him. He walked past most to stand at the very front of the crowd, next to the leaders of the Great Houses, Crassius Curio taking the place of absent Vedam Dren. And at the very centre, he saw king Helseth standing with his royal guards surrounding him. As Varvur approached, he saw Helseth looking him over. And he definitely noticed the sneer on his mouth, and the almost mocking expression in his eyes. Varvur was glad he had meditated; just a little less concentration and he might have done something that he would regret. Not very much, but a little anyway. The thought made him smile, until he looked at the coffin displayed before them.
It was a large solid stone slab. probably weighing a ton. Carvers had carved the likeness of lord Nerevar on the top of the coffin as was customary in western lands. Dunmer preferred to burn their dead, but then lord Nerevar had obviously not been Dunmer. Inside the coffin Varvur knew lay the body of the now dead Nerevarine, Hortator of three great houses, Lord Nerevar reborn. Varvur had always wondered why lord Nerevar had never sought out houses Indoril and Dres to become their Hortator. Perhaps he had simply lacked time to make such a journey.
The Ceremony commenced, a long line of great men and women all sharing their tales about lord Nerevar. Ashlander Ashkans and wise women compared him to the moon and stars, Divayth Fyr recounted how he had at first thought lord Nerevar was a burglar interested in looting his dungeon, Patriarch SaOmayni told how wrong he had been before to outlaw teachings other than those the Tribunal approved, and how glad he still was that lord Nerevar had shown him the way. And so many more. The Nerevarine had touched many lives in Vvardenfell and beyond.
Last in the long line came the king himself. Helseth started by saying how sorry he was to see such a great man go. And how much he had admired lord Nerevar in life. Varvur had no doubt that quite a few people had to force their faces to remain straight at that. Helseth went on:
“People of Morrowind, hear me. As we said, a great man has died this week, but we shall not forget him, he shall never be forgotten here. It was brought to our attention that before he died, he abolished slavery. As a last salute to him we will ratify his decision. We, king Hlaalu Helseth, first of our name, hereby officially outlaw slavery. Slavery is no more and every slave owner is required within a week to release all of their slaves and allow them to leave their land. They may keep everything that they own as they leave.”
“Now I realise just before he died, lord Nerevar was going to announce the names of people he knew were corrupt and taking bribes. Unfortunately it doesn’t appear as if he’s written any of that down. Varvur, you were with him so often, do you know of anything he left? Perchance he’s left some things in your protection, as we all know how good you are at protecting things, eh?”
It took all of his self control that time, and a long look from his father. Varvur felt his hand on the blade, but seeing the royal guards reach for their weapon he quickly let go of the hilt. ‘I will get you for that one; one day I will get you for that Helseth,’ he thought to himself. What he said was something very different of course.
“Unfortunately not, my liege, though he told me many tales while I was here, nothing was put onto paper. Rest assured though, I will find those responsible and bring them to justice. In fact, I’ll present their heads to you personally. With your permission of course.” And at that he made a deep bow.
Sneering, the king turned his back on Varvur and finished his speech by wishing lord Nerevar blessings in his new life.
With that the ceremony was at an end, the priests using spells would now move the coffin into the prepared tomb just outside of Ebonheart where lord Nerevar would rest forever.
As the crowd dispersed, Varvur spotted the captain of the guards who was present when it happened. “Captain, a word with you if I may; this will only take a minute.”
“Fine, but be quick about it then.”
“All I want to know really is the names of the servants who were present when it happened, and where I can find them.” After Varvur had written down everything he needed to know, he went back to his room to lie in his bed.
Questioning Jester was impossible. The Bosmer was sitting on his bed, with his feet tucked beneath his body and rocking back and forth like a madman. He spoke in jibberish, and all the intelligible thing he said was “I was only trying to help, just trying to make them laugh.” Clearly Jester was scared senseless and would be no help to Varvur.
The first two questionings of servants proved to be fruitless. Tuvene Arethan was a Dunmer who had served in Ebonheart for many years now. She couldn’t stop sobbing during Varvur’s questioning and it seemed all she could remember from that night was being scared silly by a door pounding open, and then hearing the lord had died, upon which she had fainted. The second was Ruccia Conician, an Imperial lady who said little more then “Please don’t kill me, I didn’t do it, please don’t end my life, I‘m innocent.” The third person, however, a very nice Khajiit lady who had just moved to Ebonheart, did have some more information. She had taken residence in part of the now nearly abandoned Imperial Cult Chapels. She had nothing new to tell about what happened in the council chambers, but she did swear she’d seen a boat sailing away on the night of the murder. She had gone to look out the window not long after she’d gone to her room, and saw a boat sailing due east.
Now Varvur approached the place where he would find the fourth and final witness. For some reason he’d chosen to live in the Six Fishes Tavern in central Ebonheart. Varvur was almost certain what to expect, but he was still glad when he found his instinct hadn’t left him yet. The room of the fourth witness was very clean, too clean almost, as if someone had made sure to leave nothing behind with which someone could identify him. The bartender there wasn’t sure when he’d last seen the man, all he knew was that he’d been an Imperial, had payed 2 months in advance and made no trouble. And, the bartender added, that was all he needed to know. Varvur was pretty sure he’d found his man, and pretty sure he knew who had been in that boat. When he checked with the harbourmaster though, no boat matching the description of the Khajiit had been seen for at least a month.
The answer came to him while was questioning a guard who was on duty during the evening of the assassination.
“Yeah I had duty that night. Yeah I saw an Imperial walk past. It was when everything went nuts up there, all the screaming and yelling and everyone shouting lord Nerevar had died. I remember rushing up the stairs and an Imperial was coming down. I looked behind me before I turned the corner and saw him entering the small Imperial Shrine here. I do remember thinking to myself how odd that was, as I thought I’d locked it and the only other key is with the captain.”
“Could you open the door for me,” Varvur asked, “ I’d like to take a look inside.”
“Sure, so long as it doesn’t put me into trouble.”
The room was very small, really little more then 4 small walls and an altar near the centre. Varvur looked over the altar to see if there was something odd about it, but couldn’t detect anything. Walking along the walls he also saw nothing out of the ordinary, or did he? He didn’t see anything, but he felt something. At the joining of two walls in a corner he distinctly felt a light breeze. After he felt around, he found a line running there, a separation of the two walls. And more importantly, he found a hidden lever. Pressing it moved part of the wall aside to uncover a door.
Drawing his blade, he opened the door and found himself in an underground cave. He saw some of the foundation of Ebonheart so he concluded he must be right beneath it. Exploring the cave did not give him much more information, but when he was just about to walk back, he noticed there appeared to be a platform of some kind, some way above the ground. Clinging on to a few projecting rocks in the wall, he climbed to the top and found a small hidden camp. Someone had obviously spent some time there, he thought, as there were plenty of supplies lying around. Most of them appeared to have been prepared especially to remain good for a long time. Whoever had been living here did not want to rush himself.
The second discovery came when he noticed some air bubbles coming up. Still water isn’t supposed to have bubbles popping up like that. Discarding his armour and leaving it at the water’s edge, Varvur went into the water and followed the bubbles. He was lead to a small underwater door that when he went through it, led him just outside Ebonheart to a small cove, secluded from everyone, even from people looking at it from Ebonheart, a place where one could easily store a boat.
He knew he’d just come one step closer to finding the poisoner.
On to the next chapter