Chapter 12. Unlikely choice.
Varvur was banging his cup against the bars of his cell and shouting for a guard to come. He’d been in the cell for a day and a night already and knew time was creeping up on him. He didn’t expect a guard to come, though; he’d been banging his cup against the bars for over an hour now, and no one had so much as checked on them. Yes, them. There was one other prisoner on this cellblock. It was obviously used for only the worst criminals. The man across from him appeared to be scum of the worst kind, dirty, with unkempt hair. And ironically enough, he was a fellow Dunmer, but from the threats and curses he threw at Varvur, one couldn’t tell. Looking around the cell, Varvur saw what he’d seen several times before already, that there was nothing that would help him escape. Naught but a few bones and a skull, a small table and a bucket to use as a privy. And his bed of course with the thin blanket. Nothing. Varvur sat down and put his head in his hands. It seemed hopeless.
A noise woke him from his ponderings, a loud noise. Someone was coming down the stairs, and from what he could hear there were several people.
“Come quickly, your highness, this way.”
“Hey,” a guard spoke to Varvur, “What are you doing here? There wasn’t supposed to be anyone here.”
“I’m sorry captain, I’d be happy to leave if I could.”
Then the man who had been called your highness came into view. Varvur had seen his picture of course, but still, seeing the man in front of him proved to be quite another experience. It was Uriel Septim, Emperor of Tamriel.
“You!” the emperor exclaimed in a voice that told of visiting many different lands, and even worlds, that had gone where few men had gone before.
“I’ve seen you in my dreams. What is your name?”
Varvur replied quietly, all the while keeping his eyes down. There was something strange happening here- he could read it in the tension of the guards posture, the way they held their swords. It would not do to have the guards decide it would be better to butcher him then leave a witness. One of them spoke,
“You prisoner, stand back.”
Varvur stood back as one of the guards opened the door to his cell. He considered rushing them and fighting his way out, but at that moment he noticed the blade hanging from the hip of the emperor. It was the blade of lord Nerevar; even if he could get past the guards, which he doubted, how could he leave the blade here? The guards were entering his cell, there were four of them, and the emperor. One of the guards pulled an innocent-looking chain, and to Varvur’s surprise, part of the wall moved out of the way.
The guards moved swiftly past him, but the last one, a Redguard, stopped for a moment to look at him.
“If you must, you can follow us, and you will be able to leave. But make sure to stay out of our way or I will kill you myself.”
Varvur nodded, indicating that he understood. The Redguard moved to follow the emperor and Varvur went into the tunnel after him.
It appeared to be a very old system of corridors, barely lit, and crumbling. It must have been the oldest part of the city. Luckily some of the guards were carrying torches, else they might not have been able to see anything. In front of them the corridor suddenly went to the right, and Varvur and the others found themselves in a small antechamber. One of the guards called a halt, claiming that he heard something. He slowly moved forward, carefully listening to the surroundings. Varvur heard the blade before he saw it, and cried out a warning but it was too late; the head of the front guard was already rolling away as his body crumpled to the floor. A number of men dressed in red cloaks came at them then. Several engaged the emperor and his guards, but one came at Varvur. The man swung his mace downward and Varvur moved out of the way just a in time. The mace now moved sideways, again straight for Varvur, but he was able to grab the arm of the man before it could connect. A swift tug on the arm had the man overbalanced and spinning to the floor, and it also left Varvur with the mace in his own hands. A swift blow to the head made sure the man would not get a second chance.
Varvur looked around, expecting to see more men, but the emperor’s guards had dealt with the other assailants. The emperor turned to look at him and said,
“Well now, I am glad to have you along. If it had not been for you, we might have been attacked from both sides. As you can see, my guards are already injured and we still have quite a ways to go. But tell me, I saw you looking at this blade; is it familiar to you?”
Varvur quickly explained to whom the blade had belonged and how he came to have it.
“Really, lord Nerevar is dead? These are troubled times indeed. Why I remember it as if it were yesterday when he was in the exact same cell as you just now. I had dreamt about him as well, so I let him go. Pardoned him of the crimes he probably never committed. Well, young Mer, I will tell you what we will do. If you help me get out of these Talos-forsaken tunnels, I will give you back the blade.”
He must have caught Varvur’s questioning look because he added,
“Well, I realise the blade is not mine to give away, but consider this- if we don’t get out of these tunnels, it will do no one any good, now will it?”
Varvur could not disagree with that logic, so he promised to help them. He did catch a mistrusting look from the Redguard, but then he’d made the agreement with the emperor, not the Redguard.
Before exiting the room after the guards, Varvur stopped to pick up the blade of the fallen guard. A katana, not very common in Morrowind, but his father had insisted he train with weapons even from outside the province. He admired the weight and balance for a second, finding that this was truly a magnificent weapon. As he considered everything that had occurred, he realised something he had been thinking of for a while now- the guards must be Blades. No normal guard would be able to afford such a fine blade. Hurrying along, he saw the guards had moved with haste to a door. The last guard to enter was the Redguard, though just before he entered, he turned back to face Varvur.
“This is where we part, Dunmer. We can’t have you trailing along, so you’d better find your own way out.”
And with that he closed the door on Varvur. And locked it. Judging from the thickness he’d seen when the door was open, there was no way Varvur could break through it. Looking over the walls of the room, he noticed a small opening on the right side.
Going down to his hands and knees, he crawled through the opening into the room beyond. It appeared to be part of a cave, the only finished wall on the side where he had come through and the rest naught but sand and roots. Quickly disposing of a few rats that came at him, and a zombie a small ways down, he tried to follow alongside the route the guards and emperor appeared to be taking. There really wasn’t much there, though he did find himself face to face with three goblins at one time. Morrowind wasn’t home to many of the creatures, especially not since an entire army of them, hiding in the sewers of Mournhold, had been destroyed by lord Nerevar, but their crude weapons and tactics proved no match for Varvur’s honed skills.
The sound of weapons clashing reached him, and hurrying on, he was just in time to see another Blade fall to an assassin. He also saw the remaining Blades were hard pressed, each fighting off two or even three assassins, he overlooked the scene from a ledge, and without hesitating, jumped down, taking down two of the Redguard’s assailants as he landed. He quickly got back up, and slashed with his blade, finishing one of the assassins. The other assassin tried to bash him with his mace, but Varvur simply jumped back and used the katana’s longer reach to slash the assassin’s midsection. It’s never a good idea to get involved with a weapon that has a longer range, not unless you’re either very fast, or very heavily armoured. By that time the other Blade had disposed of his attackers as well and came towards Varvur threateningly.
“No, stop it,” the emperor called. “You will not harm him. Can’t you see, he just saved the life of Baurus and you would repay him by taking his life?”
The Blade looked just a bit embarrassed at that and lowered his blade.
“Tell me,” the emperor continued, “do you believe in the Nine divines?”
What an odd question to ask at a time like this. Varvur considered, but not wanting to insult the emperor, he answered none the less.
“I do not, I worship my ancestors, but my father tells me I was born when the Steed constellation was at its brightest in many centuries.”
At that the emperor nodded, and gestured for the Blades to lead on. The next room proved empty. There was a corridor leading onwards and both Blades insisted on checking it before they went on. As soon as they were halfway through, the emperor once again turned to Varvur and spoke,
“Young Mer, my time grows short. Thankfully it shall not be long now. Please, take this amulet; it is the Amulet of Kings, and only the rightful heir to the throne may wear it and use it to thwart the efforts of the usurper. Please, take it and your lord Nerevar’s blade and find my loyal Blade, Jauffre, at Weynon Priory. He alone knows where to find the last heir of my line.” With that, the emperor handed him a huge amulet and the blade of Nerevar.
As Varvur considered those words, and the enormity of the task, he was not ready when a part of a wall suddenly slid open and an assassin emerged from it. The red-robed killer went straight for the emperor and slashed open his throat. Only when he advanced on Varvur did Varvur drop lord Nerevar’s blade and ready his katana. The assassin only had a knife, and Varvur a long blade, so no glory was earned during that fight.
After the assassin was dead, he heard a wail from behind him, and spun around, raising his blade. But then he lowered it again. Baurus has been the one to voice the wail. He clutched the body of his emperor and looked bereft. Varvur sought to comfort him and explained what the emperor had told him before he died. He also tried to offer the amulet to Baurus, thinking it was rightly the province of the Blades to care for the emperor’s relic.
“Thank the Nine; our work might not have been in vain after all. No, I thank you for trusting me with the amulet, but the emperor gave it to you; it is your destiny to aid the heir, not mine.”
Varvur followed Baurus to the exit, only stopping at the last dead Blade to pick up his armour. Robbing the dead wasn’t really something Varvur liked, but with no armour, his chances of surviving would be small. As they came to the exit, Baurus showed him a way to get outside the city at once, and promised to clear Varvur’s record so no guards would come after him, no matter what crime had been committed. Varvur followed the Blade’s directions, and went through a sewer gate.
Crawling through it, he found himself a little way to the south of the Imperial City. Looking at himself, he found he didn’t look as bad as he might have. With the Blades armour, he might have looked even better then before. He knew he had to hurry. More time had passed then he cared to think on and he knew he had to be sleeping in the tavern at Pell’s Gate by tonight lest he lose his chance to meet this Lucien, the next step on the path to finding Nerevar’s murderers.
He strapped his katana to his back, and tightened the strap around his waist as well, making sure lord Nerevar’s blade would not be lost and slowly got into the water. It was quite cold, and by the time Varvur crawled out on the other side, he was chilled to the bone. He walked in the direction he knew he would find the tavern and luckily, before long he was looking at it. Now came the next dilemma; he had no money. Everything had been taken when he had been thrown into jail, but Varvur decided to be bold. Who needs money when he wears the armour of the Emperor’s own guards?
He proudly walked into the tavern, demanded food, drink and a bed and bid the innkeeper to send the bill to the palace. He wasn’t the first to do so apparently, as the innkeeper looked sullenly at him, but did not say a word against it. He handed Varvur a key to his room and promised to bring along food and drink shortly. Varvur was very glad to once again have a warm bed, and good food. Prison meals simply didn’t cut it compared to this. After he’d had his meal, he went to bed. He took his blade with him, wanting to make sure no one could surprise him during the night.
Even so, he was surprised. Near dawn, he suddenly heard a voice from across the room.
“Come on sleepyhead, haven’t you slept enough? We have quite a bit to do today, so you’d better get moving.”
Varvur sat up, holding his katana in front of him. In the shadows he saw the outline of a hooded, cloaked man, an Imperial by the sound of his voice.
“Are you Lucien?”
“Yes, very good, my name is in fact Lucien Lachance, and your name is Varvur Sarethi. What a pleasure it is to meet such a noble figure so far from home.”
And as Lucien laughed, Varvur somehow got the impression that he was being mocked, but it didn’t matter.
“You mentioned we would be going somewhere? Where are we going? And how do you know who I am?”
“Ah, so many questions for one so young as yourself, but before I answer, a question of my own. Would you not come to work for the Dark Brotherhood instead? You did such a great job getting information out of Fafnir; he must have screamed all night.”
And another loud laugh. Varvur felt sickened; how could this man know so much about him? Nevertheless, he resolved his anguish and answered,
“I would never join you. I did what needed be done, not because I enjoyed it but because I had to.”
“Yes, of course that’s what they all say at first. But no matter, forget I asked. No true Redoran would ever be a good Brother anyway; you’re all far too noble for your own good. Anyway, moving along here; yes, I did in fact mention we would be going on a trip. How familiar are you with the ruling body of the Dark Brotherhood, young noble?”
“I know you’re ruled by 5 people in total, but little else.”
“Very good,” replied Lucien. “Yes 5 people indeed, one listener, and four speakers, together the five fingers of a hand, a black hand that is. I’m a speaker, I speak for the Listener, and the listener has heard the Night Mother had business with you personally. So it is my job to take you to the listener. Now either we can leave today together, or if you refuse, I must ask my operatives to pick you up and escort you there. The choice young Sarethi, is entirely yours.”
With a smile on his face, Lucien sat back and observed Varvur. To Varvur the choice wasn’t a hard one. He had wanted to find the head of the Dark Brotherhood from the start; if people would take him there and shorten his journey, all the better.
“I will come with you,” he told Lucien.
“Wonderful sir, your steed awaits outside, please meet me there in ten minutes.”
And with that, Lucien slowly faded back into the shadows. No door ever opened, no sound was made, but when Varvur got up to look in the corner where Lucien had just sat, there was no longer anyone there. All that was left on the chair was a black hooded robe. It was probably meant for him.
On to the next chapter
Varvur was banging his cup against the bars of his cell and shouting for a guard to come. He’d been in the cell for a day and a night already and knew time was creeping up on him. He didn’t expect a guard to come, though; he’d been banging his cup against the bars for over an hour now, and no one had so much as checked on them. Yes, them. There was one other prisoner on this cellblock. It was obviously used for only the worst criminals. The man across from him appeared to be scum of the worst kind, dirty, with unkempt hair. And ironically enough, he was a fellow Dunmer, but from the threats and curses he threw at Varvur, one couldn’t tell. Looking around the cell, Varvur saw what he’d seen several times before already, that there was nothing that would help him escape. Naught but a few bones and a skull, a small table and a bucket to use as a privy. And his bed of course with the thin blanket. Nothing. Varvur sat down and put his head in his hands. It seemed hopeless.
A noise woke him from his ponderings, a loud noise. Someone was coming down the stairs, and from what he could hear there were several people.
“Come quickly, your highness, this way.”
“Hey,” a guard spoke to Varvur, “What are you doing here? There wasn’t supposed to be anyone here.”
“I’m sorry captain, I’d be happy to leave if I could.”
Then the man who had been called your highness came into view. Varvur had seen his picture of course, but still, seeing the man in front of him proved to be quite another experience. It was Uriel Septim, Emperor of Tamriel.
“You!” the emperor exclaimed in a voice that told of visiting many different lands, and even worlds, that had gone where few men had gone before.
“I’ve seen you in my dreams. What is your name?”
Varvur replied quietly, all the while keeping his eyes down. There was something strange happening here- he could read it in the tension of the guards posture, the way they held their swords. It would not do to have the guards decide it would be better to butcher him then leave a witness. One of them spoke,
“You prisoner, stand back.”
Varvur stood back as one of the guards opened the door to his cell. He considered rushing them and fighting his way out, but at that moment he noticed the blade hanging from the hip of the emperor. It was the blade of lord Nerevar; even if he could get past the guards, which he doubted, how could he leave the blade here? The guards were entering his cell, there were four of them, and the emperor. One of the guards pulled an innocent-looking chain, and to Varvur’s surprise, part of the wall moved out of the way.
The guards moved swiftly past him, but the last one, a Redguard, stopped for a moment to look at him.
“If you must, you can follow us, and you will be able to leave. But make sure to stay out of our way or I will kill you myself.”
Varvur nodded, indicating that he understood. The Redguard moved to follow the emperor and Varvur went into the tunnel after him.
It appeared to be a very old system of corridors, barely lit, and crumbling. It must have been the oldest part of the city. Luckily some of the guards were carrying torches, else they might not have been able to see anything. In front of them the corridor suddenly went to the right, and Varvur and the others found themselves in a small antechamber. One of the guards called a halt, claiming that he heard something. He slowly moved forward, carefully listening to the surroundings. Varvur heard the blade before he saw it, and cried out a warning but it was too late; the head of the front guard was already rolling away as his body crumpled to the floor. A number of men dressed in red cloaks came at them then. Several engaged the emperor and his guards, but one came at Varvur. The man swung his mace downward and Varvur moved out of the way just a in time. The mace now moved sideways, again straight for Varvur, but he was able to grab the arm of the man before it could connect. A swift tug on the arm had the man overbalanced and spinning to the floor, and it also left Varvur with the mace in his own hands. A swift blow to the head made sure the man would not get a second chance.
Varvur looked around, expecting to see more men, but the emperor’s guards had dealt with the other assailants. The emperor turned to look at him and said,
“Well now, I am glad to have you along. If it had not been for you, we might have been attacked from both sides. As you can see, my guards are already injured and we still have quite a ways to go. But tell me, I saw you looking at this blade; is it familiar to you?”
Varvur quickly explained to whom the blade had belonged and how he came to have it.
“Really, lord Nerevar is dead? These are troubled times indeed. Why I remember it as if it were yesterday when he was in the exact same cell as you just now. I had dreamt about him as well, so I let him go. Pardoned him of the crimes he probably never committed. Well, young Mer, I will tell you what we will do. If you help me get out of these Talos-forsaken tunnels, I will give you back the blade.”
He must have caught Varvur’s questioning look because he added,
“Well, I realise the blade is not mine to give away, but consider this- if we don’t get out of these tunnels, it will do no one any good, now will it?”
Varvur could not disagree with that logic, so he promised to help them. He did catch a mistrusting look from the Redguard, but then he’d made the agreement with the emperor, not the Redguard.
Before exiting the room after the guards, Varvur stopped to pick up the blade of the fallen guard. A katana, not very common in Morrowind, but his father had insisted he train with weapons even from outside the province. He admired the weight and balance for a second, finding that this was truly a magnificent weapon. As he considered everything that had occurred, he realised something he had been thinking of for a while now- the guards must be Blades. No normal guard would be able to afford such a fine blade. Hurrying along, he saw the guards had moved with haste to a door. The last guard to enter was the Redguard, though just before he entered, he turned back to face Varvur.
“This is where we part, Dunmer. We can’t have you trailing along, so you’d better find your own way out.”
And with that he closed the door on Varvur. And locked it. Judging from the thickness he’d seen when the door was open, there was no way Varvur could break through it. Looking over the walls of the room, he noticed a small opening on the right side.
Going down to his hands and knees, he crawled through the opening into the room beyond. It appeared to be part of a cave, the only finished wall on the side where he had come through and the rest naught but sand and roots. Quickly disposing of a few rats that came at him, and a zombie a small ways down, he tried to follow alongside the route the guards and emperor appeared to be taking. There really wasn’t much there, though he did find himself face to face with three goblins at one time. Morrowind wasn’t home to many of the creatures, especially not since an entire army of them, hiding in the sewers of Mournhold, had been destroyed by lord Nerevar, but their crude weapons and tactics proved no match for Varvur’s honed skills.
The sound of weapons clashing reached him, and hurrying on, he was just in time to see another Blade fall to an assassin. He also saw the remaining Blades were hard pressed, each fighting off two or even three assassins, he overlooked the scene from a ledge, and without hesitating, jumped down, taking down two of the Redguard’s assailants as he landed. He quickly got back up, and slashed with his blade, finishing one of the assassins. The other assassin tried to bash him with his mace, but Varvur simply jumped back and used the katana’s longer reach to slash the assassin’s midsection. It’s never a good idea to get involved with a weapon that has a longer range, not unless you’re either very fast, or very heavily armoured. By that time the other Blade had disposed of his attackers as well and came towards Varvur threateningly.
“No, stop it,” the emperor called. “You will not harm him. Can’t you see, he just saved the life of Baurus and you would repay him by taking his life?”
The Blade looked just a bit embarrassed at that and lowered his blade.
“Tell me,” the emperor continued, “do you believe in the Nine divines?”
What an odd question to ask at a time like this. Varvur considered, but not wanting to insult the emperor, he answered none the less.
“I do not, I worship my ancestors, but my father tells me I was born when the Steed constellation was at its brightest in many centuries.”
At that the emperor nodded, and gestured for the Blades to lead on. The next room proved empty. There was a corridor leading onwards and both Blades insisted on checking it before they went on. As soon as they were halfway through, the emperor once again turned to Varvur and spoke,
“Young Mer, my time grows short. Thankfully it shall not be long now. Please, take this amulet; it is the Amulet of Kings, and only the rightful heir to the throne may wear it and use it to thwart the efforts of the usurper. Please, take it and your lord Nerevar’s blade and find my loyal Blade, Jauffre, at Weynon Priory. He alone knows where to find the last heir of my line.” With that, the emperor handed him a huge amulet and the blade of Nerevar.
As Varvur considered those words, and the enormity of the task, he was not ready when a part of a wall suddenly slid open and an assassin emerged from it. The red-robed killer went straight for the emperor and slashed open his throat. Only when he advanced on Varvur did Varvur drop lord Nerevar’s blade and ready his katana. The assassin only had a knife, and Varvur a long blade, so no glory was earned during that fight.
After the assassin was dead, he heard a wail from behind him, and spun around, raising his blade. But then he lowered it again. Baurus has been the one to voice the wail. He clutched the body of his emperor and looked bereft. Varvur sought to comfort him and explained what the emperor had told him before he died. He also tried to offer the amulet to Baurus, thinking it was rightly the province of the Blades to care for the emperor’s relic.
“Thank the Nine; our work might not have been in vain after all. No, I thank you for trusting me with the amulet, but the emperor gave it to you; it is your destiny to aid the heir, not mine.”
Varvur followed Baurus to the exit, only stopping at the last dead Blade to pick up his armour. Robbing the dead wasn’t really something Varvur liked, but with no armour, his chances of surviving would be small. As they came to the exit, Baurus showed him a way to get outside the city at once, and promised to clear Varvur’s record so no guards would come after him, no matter what crime had been committed. Varvur followed the Blade’s directions, and went through a sewer gate.
Crawling through it, he found himself a little way to the south of the Imperial City. Looking at himself, he found he didn’t look as bad as he might have. With the Blades armour, he might have looked even better then before. He knew he had to hurry. More time had passed then he cared to think on and he knew he had to be sleeping in the tavern at Pell’s Gate by tonight lest he lose his chance to meet this Lucien, the next step on the path to finding Nerevar’s murderers.
He strapped his katana to his back, and tightened the strap around his waist as well, making sure lord Nerevar’s blade would not be lost and slowly got into the water. It was quite cold, and by the time Varvur crawled out on the other side, he was chilled to the bone. He walked in the direction he knew he would find the tavern and luckily, before long he was looking at it. Now came the next dilemma; he had no money. Everything had been taken when he had been thrown into jail, but Varvur decided to be bold. Who needs money when he wears the armour of the Emperor’s own guards?
He proudly walked into the tavern, demanded food, drink and a bed and bid the innkeeper to send the bill to the palace. He wasn’t the first to do so apparently, as the innkeeper looked sullenly at him, but did not say a word against it. He handed Varvur a key to his room and promised to bring along food and drink shortly. Varvur was very glad to once again have a warm bed, and good food. Prison meals simply didn’t cut it compared to this. After he’d had his meal, he went to bed. He took his blade with him, wanting to make sure no one could surprise him during the night.
Even so, he was surprised. Near dawn, he suddenly heard a voice from across the room.
“Come on sleepyhead, haven’t you slept enough? We have quite a bit to do today, so you’d better get moving.”
Varvur sat up, holding his katana in front of him. In the shadows he saw the outline of a hooded, cloaked man, an Imperial by the sound of his voice.
“Are you Lucien?”
“Yes, very good, my name is in fact Lucien Lachance, and your name is Varvur Sarethi. What a pleasure it is to meet such a noble figure so far from home.”
And as Lucien laughed, Varvur somehow got the impression that he was being mocked, but it didn’t matter.
“You mentioned we would be going somewhere? Where are we going? And how do you know who I am?”
“Ah, so many questions for one so young as yourself, but before I answer, a question of my own. Would you not come to work for the Dark Brotherhood instead? You did such a great job getting information out of Fafnir; he must have screamed all night.”
And another loud laugh. Varvur felt sickened; how could this man know so much about him? Nevertheless, he resolved his anguish and answered,
“I would never join you. I did what needed be done, not because I enjoyed it but because I had to.”
“Yes, of course that’s what they all say at first. But no matter, forget I asked. No true Redoran would ever be a good Brother anyway; you’re all far too noble for your own good. Anyway, moving along here; yes, I did in fact mention we would be going on a trip. How familiar are you with the ruling body of the Dark Brotherhood, young noble?”
“I know you’re ruled by 5 people in total, but little else.”
“Very good,” replied Lucien. “Yes 5 people indeed, one listener, and four speakers, together the five fingers of a hand, a black hand that is. I’m a speaker, I speak for the Listener, and the listener has heard the Night Mother had business with you personally. So it is my job to take you to the listener. Now either we can leave today together, or if you refuse, I must ask my operatives to pick you up and escort you there. The choice young Sarethi, is entirely yours.”
With a smile on his face, Lucien sat back and observed Varvur. To Varvur the choice wasn’t a hard one. He had wanted to find the head of the Dark Brotherhood from the start; if people would take him there and shorten his journey, all the better.
“I will come with you,” he told Lucien.
“Wonderful sir, your steed awaits outside, please meet me there in ten minutes.”
And with that, Lucien slowly faded back into the shadows. No door ever opened, no sound was made, but when Varvur got up to look in the corner where Lucien had just sat, there was no longer anyone there. All that was left on the chair was a black hooded robe. It was probably meant for him.
On to the next chapter