It is now the middle of Last Seed here on Vvardenfell, near the anniversary of my arrival so many years ago. If you were to ask me what I had for supper last night, I would be hard pressed to say. But if you asked me to recall my first days in Morrowind, I would do so with ease. And so I shall.
As I went north out of Seyda Neen, I remembered a promise I had made to a Khajiit and two Argonians. Turning west to the sea, I cast a spell of Water Walking and traveled out to deep water. Once there, I dropped three slave bracers, symbols of a practice I hated with every fiber of my being. Having been a victim of forced servitude myself, a slave in all but name, I would do whatever I could to cripple the foul practice. Promise fulfilled, I turned back toward shore and discovered one of the major limitations of magic: spells do not last forever, nor even as long as one might wish. In fact, spells often expire at particularly unfortunate moments. For example, when the spell-caster is well out into the sea and preaching the evils of slavery to an audience of one. One moment I was gliding across the surface of the water, composing one of the greatest anti-slavery speeches in the history of the Empire, the next I was gasping and trying not to swallow a significant portion of the Inner Sea. For future reference, it is better to compose great speeches and plan grand crusades from a comfortable chair in front of a warm fire.
My situation was quickly noticed by several small green fish, which seemed to be composed mostly of mouths full of long, needle-sharp teeth. If my sword technique on land had improved any, it was not noticeable in the water. My thrashing and cursing would have proved highly entertaining to anyone watching; I believe I overcame the slaughterfish as much by churning the water as by swordplay. Once my attackers floated on the surface, I was able to examine them and discover that, in addition to their impressive teeth, they possessed scales with some properties useful for the making of potions, such as Water Walking. Such as... the spell that I had cast to get out here, the spell that I still knew, the spell that I had sufficient magicka to cast perhaps another 9 TIMES! If the water had churned when I fought the slaughterfish, it positively boiled as I realized that I could have just cast a simple spell. I was much damper and much quieter as I slunk back to shore. On a happier note, I didn't quite drown when I noticed some kollops and dove to check them for pearls.
Back on more or less dry land, I downed one of Thavere's healing potions and decided to practice with that bane of my existence, the chitin short bow. My targets of choice were mudcrabs; they tended to be slow and not require 50 or 60 arrows to kill. That may seem cruel to some, but I had several good reasons. First, I am not a ranger; I don't go flitting through the forest singing songs to the birds and furry creatures. Second, I needed the crab meat to keep me going- there weren't any provisioners out here. And, finally, I really needed to improve my skill with the bow if I wanted to survive. There were plenty of creatures that could hurt me badly if I allowed them into close range. Other than the mudcrabs and a few rats, I met no opposition. Of course, I did bypass several tombs and caves, feeling that my equipment and skills simply weren't up to the kind of trouble I might find. Besides, undead sort of, um, what's the word ... scared me.
I didn't hurry, but I didn't want to waste time either- I had probably left some enemies behind me- enemies that might prove powerful. I needed to get to a town large enough to lose myself and to perhaps join a guild or two. Guilds can be annoying, what with rules, duties, and membership dues, but they also provide some protection. In the real world, most lone wolves either starve to death or get taken down by the pack. It's a romantic image, but I had to think about survival, not image. As I passed the wizard-shaped depression in the road where Tarhiel had discovered one of the fundamental laws of physics, I turned east, wanting to work my way inland. The coast was humid and muddy; I hoped to find more pleasant travel conditions across the foothills. Also, I had just about all the mushrooms I would ever want; I hoped to find different plants farther inland.
My efforts were rewarded with a large variety of plants, including some that would provide healing. Best of all, no Imperial guards jumped out of the bushes to accuse me of lurking with the intent to loiter or treason or whatever else they could make up. As I came up the path to Pelegiad, I almost thought I had been magically transported to High Rock. The buildings looked so much like my home province that I felt a twinge of homesickness. That was quickly dispelled by the sight of an Imperial fort hovering like a black cloud at the north edge of town. Whenever I began to feel that I could breathe freely, I was reminded that the iron fist of the Empire was wrapped around my throat. Seeking a friendly, non-Imperial face, I spied Kunthar, a Nord barbarian. Generally, I find Nords to be likable; they have a simple outlook on life- smash it, spend it, eat it, or drink it. He explained that the Imperial wart, I mean fort, was only one part of the problem. There were also retired soldiers who had settled here and established farms. Pelegiad would not be the best place for me to settle, then. Besides, I had no way of knowing if the Imperial authorities in Seyda Neen were getting ready to send a message for all garrisons to pick up "one Trey, Breton, to be held on suspicion."
Kunthar was a good fellow; he told me about the services available in Pelegiad- the Halfway tavern and inn, two smiths, a trader, even an Imperial Cult shrine. The inn was of greatest interest to me- I needed a chance to clean off the grime of the road and perhaps sleep in a bed. Inside the tavern, I met a peculiar Dunmer by the name of Yakum who spoke a strange variety of Elvish. Among other odd subjects, he mentioned something about a prophecy, apparently some belief of the Ashland Dunmer. It all had to do with something or someone called the Nerevarine. I hardly understood a thing he said, but I liked the old boy; he seemed like my kind of person. After politely ending my conversation with Yakum, I approached the owner, who offered a selection of drinks, food, and best of all, beds. After buying some kwama eggs, I mentally counted my gold and decided I had enough to take a room. That would give me a chance to repair my gear, mix potions, and rest.
Originally, I had planned to just camp on the road and do my maintenance there. But then it struck me that the "clank, clank, ting, clank, clank" of armor repair might be as good as a dinner bell to any creatures in the area. I might as well just start shouting, "Yoo hoo, monster, come and eat me. Got your nice fresh Breton on the half-shell." No, civilization had its benefits, even if I did have to put up with the presence of Imperials. In the quiet of my room, I was able to mix up some Restore Fatigue potions and repair the worst of the wear on my armor and weapons. Best of all, I got to sleep in a bed. It was expensive, but I kind of liked it. Back home, I generally had to share my straw pile in the stable with whatever kind of "wildlife" might be there. That might be one reason why the silt strider bothered me so much; a flea that size would do a lot more than just leave a tiny bump if it bit you. In fact, YOU would be the tiny bump in the silt strider's stomach. The next morning, feeling rested and well-fed for the first time, I got back on the road, ready to find adventure, fame, and fortune. What I found was romance.
In the spirit of total honesty (at least as far as YOU know), I must confess that one of my reasons for leaving my joyous existence as an indentured servant in High Rock was the hope of finding romance. Although I was not a bad-looking fellow, my station in life told against me. And it was probable that I was not always able to remove the marks (and smells) of my work in the stable. That, too, had a negative effect on my chance for romance. Of course, I had no firsthand experience of love, anyway; what little I thought I knew came from books. For some reason, the inn-keeper and his wife did not begrudge me the privilege of reading books. Perhaps because they were themselves illiterate, they did not recognize the value of being able to read. I had been fortunate enough to come to the attention of a wandering alchemist, who sensed my talent and taught me my letters. "Books," he said, "are the most powerful thing in the world. They can outlast any empire, defeat any sword ever forged." All that may have been true, but what I loved were stories of adventure and daring escapes, of a young man with a mysterious birthmark who overcame great odds and was revealed to be the lost prince. The only marks I had were from the knotted rope the inn-keeper used on me if he felt I was moving too slowly. I even read the so-called "ladies' books" of poetry and romance. Some of them struck me as foolish, but still, the idea of a beautiful noblewoman falling in love with a commoner had some appeal. And, to my great surprise, I found out that that sort of thing really did happen. Of course, as with most revelations, it was not exactly the way I expected it to be.
Getting an early start, I left Pelegiad by the north road, making my slow way to Balmora and this Caius Cosades person I was supposed to meet. Although I had tried, I had not forgotten the package I was to deliver, nor the instructions that accompanied it. The words, "...suffer the fate of all traitors" had a way of staying in one's mind. I had not walked far when I saw a breath-taking woman standing beside the road, looking clearly distressed. She was beautiful; she was wealthy; best of all, she was a Breton, one of my own people. I approached her carefully; it wouldn't do to appear threatening; Breton noblewomen are delicate creatures, easily frightened. Sweeping a low bow, I said,
"May I be of some assistance to you, my lady?"
"Yes. Have you perhaps seen a bandit in the area?"
My heart skipped, for a variety of reasons. Should I reveal myself as the charming and mysterious rogue, Trey of High Rock? Or should I exercise caution? As it turned out, neither was necessary, for she continued:
"He was a dark elf--a strong, dashing dark elf. He took my jewels."
It appeared my reputation had not preceded me after all. She simply needed someone to recover her lost valuables. Still, might it not seem heroic if I overcame the fierce bandit and...? But no, she really wasn't concerned about the jewels, she wanted to find the bandit. She was rather taken with him. She said his name was Nelos Onmar and that she expected he was in Pelegiad, for he had said something about heading north. That last confused me somewhat, for I had just left Pelegiad behind me to the south, but perhaps love befuddles one's sense of direction. What she needed was for some kind person to carry her glove to Nelos as a token of her regard. Perhaps I was as soppy as Maurrie, or perhaps I wanted to believe that if ONE lovable rogue could find romance, so might another; in any event, I agreed to deliver the glove. Besides, I happened to know exactly where Nelos Onmar was; I had left him in the common room of the Halfway Tavern in Pelegiad. Turning south I retraced my steps and soon delivered the glove and all that it conveyed. To his credit, Nelos seemed genuinely moved; he had felt a spark of something, too. He, in turn, gave me a note to carry to Maurrie. If this didn't resolve itself soon, I was going to become very familiar with the road north of Pelegiad. Trey of High Rock, rogue, thief, messenger boy. Gah! This was what reading those romances did to you.
Fortunately, Maurrie had no further need of Trey's Messenger Service for Lonely Ladies; she suggested I look up her friend Emusette Bracques in Tel Aruhn and then departed for Pelegiad with a smile and a good turn of speed for someone wearing a long skirt. I, on the other hand, felt a sudden lack of motivation. I moped slowly north, thinking morose thoughts, and felt it was fitting that a thunder storm blew up and began soaking me to the skin. Finally shaking off my gloom, I decided that suffering for love was all well and good, but what I needed was shelter. Just then, I saw a cave to the left of the trail. Either the identifying marks had worn off or there never were any; I believed the cave was unoccupied.
It is useful to remember that when you are depressed and caught in a rainstorm on the road, that there are worse things than getting wet. And some of those things live in caves.
Once I had gotten in out of the rain, a momentary flash of sanity caused me to remember what had happened the last time I entered a cave. A short passageway led to a second door; before attempting to explore further, I cast Beggar's Nose. As I had suspected, the cave was inhabited, and at least three of the inhabitants were of the non-human variety. As I approached the inner door, I heard an ominous growling. Perhaps the intelligent thing to do would have been to go back out into the rain, but I was just drying off. And I was curious. What creature made such a noise? My training in alchemy, such as it was, included the study of creatures and their habits. As I leaned closer to the door, I brushed it with my left shoulder and triggered some sort of magical trap. The flare of released magicka was followed by a feeling of a great weight settling upon me. However, I possessed so little, and preferred light armor so I was still able to move. Hoping that the trap had not alerted whatever creature was on the other side, I swung the door open. At the time, it didn't occur to me that creatures don't set magical traps.Before I could take in the room behind the door, a scaly, green, four-legged creature with glowing red eyes bounded forward, growling. I went into a guard position with my sword and shield and let it approach, hoping the narrow doorway would hamper its movement. When it was within a few feet, it swiped at me with a massive 3-toed forefoot. The doorway and my armor provided adequate protection and I was able to fell the strange creature with a few blows of the sparksword. After making sure it was dead, I knelt to examine the body. It soon became apparent that this was what was known as a Nix-Hound, a nuisance animal that was common to the wilder parts of the Empire. They could be trained and used as guard beasts if captured young enough and hand-raised. The flesh could provide fatigue restoration, although it was rather stringy and had a faint taste of chlorine. I was so fascinated with my natural history studies that it took me a moment to notice the Dunmer woman on the raised wooden platform on the right side of the cavern. In fact, it wasn't until she drew her sword that I became aware of her.
There was a closed gate between us, and she seemed reluctant to open it. Remembering the trap on the door, I believed I knew why. I moved closer, thinking perhaps she was a prisoner; but if that were the case, why would she pull a sword on me? Just then, a second Nix-Hound bounded up from the tunnel behind her. The large beast ignored the woman and stood growling at the gate, clearly waiting for a chance to rend my flesh. I stepped nearer to examine the gate and got a bit too close. In a flash, the woman's sword and the hound's claws reached through the slats and wounded my unarmored legs. In fact, the hound managed to hold me pinned against the gate for several agonizing seconds as his mistress attempted to get a clear angle for a killing blow. With difficulty, I broke free and cast Hearth Heal. Still, they did not come through the gate; it was clear that there was a trap on it which they feared. Studying the situation, I realized that it was possible to strike at them around the right side of the gate; the gate post would shield me from most of their return attacks. As soon as I thought of it, I put my plan into action, with mostly satisfactory results. So eager were the hound and the Dunmer to attack me, they took my return blows without thinking of retreat. I suffered some wounds, but the enchantment of my sword proved too much for them and they quickly fell.
Now there was the problem of the gate. It was built in such a way that I could not climb over it; neither did I possess a spell, scroll, or potion that would allow me to levitate. Finally, trusting to my ability to heal myself, I decided on the direct approach. Grasping the latch, I received a severe shock, which I healed with a spell. I was going to have to find some way of dealing with these traps besides suffering the damage. The woman carried nothing extraordinary, so I moved deeper into the cave. Perhaps getting rained on had washed some of the cobwebs out of my head; perhaps I was learning from experience; but in either case, I remembered that my detection spell had indicated THREE creatures. Two Nix-Hounds were dealt with, where and what was the third creature? I decided to move in the shadows and as quietly as I could. When I reached a cross-corridor, I cast the detection spell again. As it showed the third and final creature far back in the cave, I silently thanked my mother for birthing me during Frostfall. To the right was an open gate; from the bones and scraps of flesh, this was clearly a kennel. Some of the bones were human.
Again staying in the shadows as much as possible, I continued down the main passage. The third, and (I hoped) final Nix-Hound attacked me a few feet beyond the kennel. Again, Tarhiel's sword provided the advantage I needed. Also, although I hardly noticed at the time, my sword work was getting smoother. Finally, I came to yet another worn door. I began to wonder if there were any NEW doors anywhere on Vvardenfell. Perhaps the smugglers could forget skooma and start a black market in doors. This door I carefully checked for traps; I didn't know what I would do if I found one, but it pays to be cautious. I opened the door and was instantly rushed by a Dunmer with a peculiar hairstyle- a strip of hair standing straight up ran down the center of his scalp. Shouting, "There is no escape!" he ran at me with his fists raised. At first I thought he was referring to his own situation, but no, he expected to beat my sword and armor with his bare hands. I might have understood if he was a Nord.... His last words proved to be prophetic as he fell to my skill. Papers in his pockets indicated that he was named Gilyn Drobar. I wondered what desperation could have caused him to attack an armed opponent with his fists.
Whatever his reasons, Drobar had a cozy hideaway with a wood plank floor, circular fire pit, rugs, cushions, and benches. In fact, there were TWO cushions for sitting, but only one person in the cavern- perhaps there was someone else nearby. An earthen ramp led upward and deeper inside. Still trying to emulate the shadows, I moved on. In the final cavern of this section, I saw another raised wooden platform with someone standing beneath it. Unseen, I crept up to a stone column and tried to think what I could do. I knew what over planning had done for me in Addamasartus- nearly gotten me killed- but I couldn't just jump out with my sword raised and yell. Actually, why not? It had the great advantage of being so simple even I couldn't get mixed up. Otherwise, I could try a Fireball, with a 1 in 4 chance of even getting it to work. Or perhaps I could use one of Tarhiel's Scrolls of Icarian Flight, jump really high, and bang my brains out on the ceiling? No, simple may have lacked style, but it had the advantage of working. Besides, only one person was ever going to know HOW I did it- the other was going to be dead and wouldn't care. In the end, I did cast Dragon Skin before jumping out. Surprise worked to my advantage, but my opponent still managed to bash my legs several times with her club before I prevailed. I needed to think seriously about finding a pair of greaves.
Finding very little of interest, I again healed myself and set off to explore the passage across from the hound kennel. My magicka was getting low, but I didn't want to rest in a cave with an unknown number of enemies. Across from the kennel was still ANOTHER worn door- maybe I should have been a carpenter instead of a thief. Opening this door revealed a passage that sloped upward, leading to another balcony-style platform. Partway up the passage, with her back to me, was a white-haired Dunmer woman. On the platform was another Dunmer man. I got the woman's attention by the simple expedient of missing her with an arrow. (Note to self: get better bow. P.S.- Or else get better WITH bow. Thx- love, Trey).
This action had the advantage of luring her toward the door without her companion noticing. She shouted, "Die, fetcher" and ran at me. "Fetcher?" Did EVERYBODY already know that I had fetched and carried for Maurrie? Getting my mind back on the task at hand, I cleverly caused her sword to become slippery by bleeding on it, and when she got tired of hitting me, I managed to finish her. She was carrying an interesting instrument called a "Fat Lute;" while I pondered what that could mean, the man noticed what was happening and charged down at me, swinging an axe. I also defeated him but not before having to use the last of Thavere's Restore Health potions. This cavern turned out to contain a great treasure, indeed.
I examined several crates and barrels, revealing the standard assortment of ingredients, armor, and clothing. I was beginning to wonder if there was no textile industry on Vvardenfell. I was going to have to find a trader soon; all this material was beginning to weigh me down. A couple of locked chests contained around 30 drakes and some cheap jewelry. Then, under a hammock, I found a chest with a better quality lock. Clearly, this was going to be the major trove. Using the better of my lock picks (thanks, Fargoth), I was able to force the lock. And inside, there were--- books. That's right, books. "Ancestors and the Dunmer," "The Annotated Annuad," "The Anticipations," and "The Book of Dawn and Dusk." On a nearby table was the "36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 16." I was so pleased I settled down for a long night of reading.
From the first four books, I learned a great deal about the dark elves and their beliefs. Some of it was confusing, some was frightening, but I mainly came away with a feeling of admiration for these people. They did not like foreigners, "outlanders" as they called us; it was only recently that they had even acknowledged that non-Dunmer races were human. Still, they had fascinating beliefs and I resolved to learn more about them. I tossed a netch leather cuirass out of my pack to make room for the books and lay down in the hammock to rest. Eight hours later, I was working my way steadily north toward Balmora, gathering blooms, roots, and berries for my potion-making.
Turning west, I entered a narrow pass and came upon a scene of desolation. The trees were shattered and stunted, largely without leaves; there did not seem to be a single growing thing. The ground itself was covered with ash and lava. As I neared the road to Balmora, I heard a now-identifiable growl and spotted a Nix-Hound up ahead. The creature wasn't blocking the path I needed to take, so I decided to try to slip past. As I moved behind a pile of rocks, a nerve-grating "Skreee" sounded high overhead. It began to rain again; I hoped that would mask my footsteps and lower the visibility. To my relief, the hound moved away and whatever had screamed flew over the ridge.
Near the top of the trail, I made out another Legion fort, which I gave a wide berth. Although it was not a welcome sight, I knew the fort meant I was near a town or city; the Legion soldiers don't like to be far from their comforts. Passing the fort, I moved into a greener country. There was still a fair amount of bare rock, but the trees were healthier than those in the blasted area I had passed through. Even in the rain, it was a lovely place. Soon, I heard the familiar lowing trill of a silt strider and saw a stone bridge and a city limit obelisk. I had reached Balmora.
I stood just outside Balmora, the place where I hoped to find some answers and to perhaps return to my interrupted life. Crossing the two bridges and nearing the silt strider landing, I got my first look at the city. It rested between high, rugged ridges and was split into two sections by a small river. The buildings constructed mostly of plaster over stone, with flat roofs to capture the rainfall. Colorful banners or wooden placards indicated numerous shops and guilds. I had a feeling I was going to like Balmora. Although the plunder from the outlaw cave was weighing me down, the package from the Imperial captain weighed even more, at least in my mind. There would be time to engage in commerce later; for now I needed to discharge what I hoped would be my last duty for the Empire. Passing through the arched entry in the wall of the city, I looked for someone who could direct me to the South Wall Cornerclub and Caius Cosades.
My eye was immediately drawn to an Argonian, who approached with the peculiar gait of her kind. I was momentarily taken aback by her greeting, "The prey approaches," but quickly realized that for Argonians, that was the equivalent of "Good day." At least I hoped so. Her name was Hul, and she was the first free Argonian I had met since coming to Morrowind. Hul cheerfully told me about Balmora; it had chapter houses for the Mages and Fighters Guilds, as well as numerous general traders and specialty shops. The South Wall Club was across the river, at the south end of Labor Street. Thanking the Argonian politely (I always try to be polite to people who have mouths full of pointy teeth), I turned my steps in that direction. It was interesting to see that, although the Empire claimed sovereignty over all of Vvardenfell, there were no Imperial guards. The guards I noticed, and I had picked up the habit of noticing guards, were dressed in yellowish armor, including full-face helms with a flaring neckpiece at the rear. Otherwise they were just like all guards- patrolling, making sure that no one was loitering or looting- in other words, being a pain in the neck for your average thief.
I soon reached the South Wall and paused a moment to examine the building before I went in. It appeared to possess two stories, and possibly a basement. It was well built, but had seen better days. As I approached the main door, indicated by a banner containing what I took to be a picture of a guar, I noted a series of apparently random scratches low down on the left side of the doorframe. Then I recalled the words of Yakum, the Ashlander in Pelegiad- "...the Thieves Guild doesn't have public guild halls, they mostly meet in corner clubs or tradehouses." Welcome to Balmora, indeed. Feeling as if a world of possibilities was about to open before me, I stepped inside.
At the bend of the first floor hall was a young Nord woman who served as a greeter and apparently sold a limited selection of goods. She was friendly enough, in a cautious way, so I asked some general questions. She told me a bit about the services available in Balmora and then mentioned the guilds, including the Thieves Guild. When I asked for further information about the Thieves Guild, all she would say was, "Talk to Sugar-Lips Habasi. She's around here somewhere." When I met her, I discovered that Sugar-Lips was a Khajiit and the Mastermind of the Balmora Thieves Guild; not surprising since the Khajiit's natural stealth and agility allow them to be among the best thieves in Tamriel. She asked me a series of questions designed to determine my skills and pronounced me acceptable to the Guild. I signed the secret ledger and was admitted as a Toad. Not the most attractive title, but I wasn't joining in order to make a good name. When I inquired about Caius Cosades, Sugar-Lips directed me to Bacola Closcius, the owner of the club.
I then found Bacola on the second floor. When I asked him where I might find Caius, he responded, "Who? Why do you want to know? Who sent you to me? What's this about?" When he finally took a breath, no doubt preparing to fire more questions at me, I interrupted and explained about the package. I also made the guild sign Sugar-Lips had taught me, which calmed him considerably. I was starting to wonder what this Caius fellow did, that he worked so hard to stay out of sight. Bacola directed me to a small house at the north end of the next street to the east, telling me to enter on the ground floor. I thanked him and left, pleased that I now had the backing of a guild and was about to get out of the Imperial Messenger Service (I hoped). My happiness was tempered by the fact that I was about to meet a major player in the strange circumstances that surrounded my exile to Vvardenfell. What was in the package I was supposed to give him? Should I have tried to open it and read it? What if the package simply contained a note that said, "Kill the person who brings this to you"? My thoughts were morbidly drawn to those novels I had read involving lost princes. How did I really know who my father was? What if I was an embarrassment to the Empire, one that they needed to remove quietly, in a backwater city of a backwater province? A body could easily be dropped into that river in the dark of night and no one would wonder, "whatever became of that fellow, Trey- you know, Breton, liked plants?" And with that thought, I was at the door to Caius Cosades house. Stepping firmly on my fears, I knocked and entered.
Whatever I had expected, it was not the tiny, squalid room I found, nor the shirtless, seemingly elderly Imperial who was the only occupant. The bed was rumpled as if the sleeper had been a victim of violent nightmares; empty bottles and discarded clothing were strewn about the floor. As I stared at the chaos, the well-muscled old man barked, "You lost, boy? Or did you want something?" In spite of his bloodshot eyes and the fact that he could have used a bath, there was an unmistakable aura of power about him. Those eyes missed nothing and I somehow felt as if I had accidentally stepped into a tiger's cage. This was a dangerous man, and to underestimate him would be a grave mistake. Or perhaps that is mostly hindsight. Maybe when I looked then, I only saw a man past his prime, suffering from over-indulgence in drink or drugs or both. However it was, his sharp tone reminded me of my errand and I stated my reason for intruding- I was to deliver a package to Caius Cosades.
He took the package, which contained a number of interesting papers, and turned away from me to examine them. After a long, tense period he turned back and said, "Very well, Trey, the Emperor wants you to be a Novice in the Blades and follow my orders. Do you think you can do that?" Of all the possible outcomes of this errand, I had not anticipated that one. No one knew much about the Blades; some said they didn't even exist, were just a bogeyman to scare people into obedience. But now, it appeared, they were all too real, and I was somehow ensnared in their web of intrigue. When asked, Caius described the organization as the Emperor's "eyes and ears" in the provinces, there to make sure that any information the Emperor needed got to him quickly and accurately. He then spent the better part of an hour drilling me on the political situation in Morrowind, including the names of the major factions. He told me about the three Great Houses of the Dunmer, about the temples and guilds, and about the criminal organizations. That last particularly caught my interest, for it seemed that the Thieves Guild was in a life-and-death struggle with a native organization called the Camonna Tong. Finally, he gave me 200 drakes and recommended that I go get better equipment and more "seasoning" before I got hurt. That last stung a bit, but deep inside, I knew he was right. His advice was to join a guild or two and do some easy jobs for them to establish an identity and gain experience. He finished with, "Then when you're ready, you can come back for more orders." I thought, but wisely did not say, "What if I'm never ready to work for the Emperor?" My head still reeling, as much from the political lecture as from the idea that I was in the Blades, I made my way back outside.
Thinking about Caius, I wondered what could drive the Empire to entrust such a man with so sensitive a position. As was often the case, that was the wrong question. I should have wondered what could drive a man in such a sensitive position to become a skooma addict.
Whether I wanted to or not, I had been made a Novice in the Blades, the Empire's spy organization. There was a saying, or really more of a whisper, that no one ever retired from the Blades. It was a guaranteed life time assignment. There just wasn't any guarantee how long your life would be. Caius himself had given me an out; he said I was inexperienced and should join some guilds and do some quests before reporting back for further orders. And he was a skooma user- he might even forget all about me in a week or two. Maybe. Or maybe not- he sure was able to recall a vast amount of information regarding who was who in Morrowind and why it mattered. If he was that sharp while on skooma, I didn't want to think what he would be like sober. Still, he had given me an excuse to stay away for awhile. A lot could happen in a few days or weeks. Meanwhile, I wanted to unload some gear that the former owners wouldn't miss and see what Balmora had to offer the new thief in town.
So I wandered around, looking for shops and services, finally crossing to the west side of the Odai River. Meldor the armorer took the extra armor and weapons, including that cursed chitin short bow. I had not given up on using a bow; I just planned to find a better one. Although I didn't get as much as I had hoped for the extra gear, I did make enough to feel somewhat more secure. Best of all, Meldor had a pair of chitin greaves. My bruised and battered legs finally had some protection. Unfortunately, most of the better armor Meldor offered was that brown-yellow material called "bonemold"- good armor, but medium weight, not a style with which I was comfortable. Next, I found Ra'Virr, a Khajiit trader who took the liquor, jewelry, and miscellaneous clothing. He also tried to sell me some "Daedric" weapons, which turned out to normal weapons with minor enchantments. He took it with good humor when I pointed this out, and I had to admire him for trying. As I wandered the streets, several people noticed the "fat lute" I was carrying and told me I should go to The Eight Plates if I was a player. No one seemed to want to buy the blasted thing, and somehow, I just couldn't throw it away. Maybe I would learn to play it, if I ever got time off from dodging the Empire. But that raised another issue- I needed a place to keep the things I wasn't going to sell, but didn't want to carry all over the wilderness. Renting a bed every night was a good way to go broke. Some guilds offered accommodations for members, so I began looking for the unsleeping eye symbol of the Mages Guild.
Besides accommodations, the Mages Guild could offer me access to alchemical equipment, better prices on ingredients, and even spells. Although I had been forced by circumstances to become primarily a thief, magic could provide a valuable edge. I had considered and discarded the notion of joining the Fighters Guild- they tended to offer "Go kill so-an-so" missions- exactly the kind I did not want. The Fighters weren't always picky about where the money or the contract came from; if someone said a certain person "needed killing" and gave them enough gold, they didn't ask any questions. So I located the Mages Guild and entered, anxious to make a good impression. The first person I met was Ranis Athrys, an expensively-dressed Dunmer who was the Guild Steward. When I asked about membership, she raised one eyebrow and looked over my armor and swords. I felt like checking my boots for guar dung. Finally, she questioned me about the various schools of magic and I was able to discuss alchemy and restoration to her satisfaction. At last, I had accomplished the goal that had carried me to Cyrodiil; I was an Associate of the Mages Guild. Eagerly, I asked her what duties I could perform, envisioning dangerous and exhilarating magical research in some ruined stronghold. Those visions were quickly dispelled when she told me that I was not advanced enough in my studies to be of any use to her; I should instead see Ajira for direction in my tasks.
Into the basement I went, and saw a scene that filled me with happiness. There were work tables and a lecture room and mages everywhere, talking, mixing mysterious ingredients, reading books and scrolls. It was wonderful. Finally, I located Ajira, a harassed-looking Khajiit working behind an apothecary table. I liked her immediately, but then I've always had a soft spot for the cat-people of Elsweyr; perhaps they remind me of the barn cats from the stable where I slept. When I inquired about duties, she explained that she was studying to become a Journeyman and needed four kinds of mushrooms that could be found on the Bitter Coast. Could I go and collect the mushrooms? I knew this one, it was the old "run the legs off the Apprentice" routine. Like sending me out to get a "left-handed hay fork." The game was designed to test my resolve, but also to get a good laugh at my expense. Instead of rushing out the door, I casually reached into my pack and pulled out several varieties of mushroom.
"Will these do?" I asked, innocently.
She was so pleased, she gave me some Restore Health potions, which I was glad to get. Since that had gone so well, I asked for another job. It seemed that Ajira had a bet with Galbedir, another student, as to which of them would achieve Journeyman rank first. Ajira had crafted a fake soul gem that she wanted me to slip into Galbedir's desk while she was away. Khajiit are naturally sneaky; that may be another reason I like them. It took a few minutes to stash the fake amongst the real gems in the desk. Then I wandered back downstairs to report my success. I didn't mind being asked to participate in a practical joke- it made me feel like I belonged. Besides, you can always expect some competitiveness among apprentices. Still hoping to get something more, I don't know, magical, to do, I asked Ajira for another job. Now she needed flowers. "Go to the Lake Amaya region." Right. And get attacked by beasties and highwaymen and gods knew what else. I went back into my pack and produced some more of the samples I had collected. Again, Ajira expressed her appreciation by giving me some inexpensive potions- Restore Magicka, this time. All this was fine, and it was nice to be making friends in the Mage Guild, but I wasn't making any money or learning any magic. I decided to go see Ranis, and stepped out into the main work area. As I did, for the first time, I noticed an alcove with beds, a table, and a large wardrobe. Upon asking, I was told that the room was for the use of anyone in good standing with the guild. Excellent. My sleeping and storage problems were solved. When I tried to open the wardrobe, it was locked, so I asked about a key. "Oh, we lost the key AGES ago. No one uses that wardrobe anymore." You have to love mages- they are smart as a whip and dumb as a brick at the same time. Probably anyone in that room could have cast a simple Unlock spell, but they didn't think of it! Rather than waste a spell, I used my picks and thus, my books had a new home out of the rain.
I also put the iron saber I had bought shortly after landing into the wardrobe- I suppose I could have sold it, but it had given good service. Also, it was the first sword I had ever owned. After lightening my load, I asked Ranis about my status. She still didn't want to offer me any work, but did advance me two ranks in the guild- from Associate to Apprentice, and from Apprentice to Journeyman. At this rate, I would be the head of the guild before the week was out. Which would be great if I wanted to be head of the guild. What I wasn't doing was improving my skills or making money. I needed to get outfitted so that I could seek a paying job. Therefore, I decided it was time to look around town for a better bow, anything but chitin. I finally found a battered long bow at the Razor Hole. It looked as if the previous owner had had the same experience with bows as I did, and used it to bludgeon his last opponent. Whatever the reason for its condition, Thorek let me have it for a fraction of the usual price. I figured I could repair it and maybe learn more about bows while I did. With the preparations done, I decided to get a good night's rest at the Mage Guild and spend tomorrow looking for a way to make some money. Or to at least look for some trouble.
What I didn't know was that you don't always have to look for trouble; often enough, trouble finds you.
Worn out from my wandering about Balmora and from speculating about what this forced enrolment in the Blades could mean for my future- as in, did I have a future- I prepared to sleep in a real bed for the only second time in my memory. As I divested myself of armor, weapons, and other gear, I thought about ways to improve my skills. Caius had mentioned trainers, and I knew that the guilds provided such services, as well. But training cost money, of which I had very little. Another problem I had with the idea of using a trainer was that to do so would reveal my weaknesses. Yes, the training would improve the weak areas, but the trainer would always be better than me and, more important, would KNOW what my weak spots were. That was a greater concern than lack of funds; I did not want anyone to know too much about me. With all these thoughts swirling in my brain, I settled in at the table with my ingredients and began working on potions. That required concentration and always calmed me. Working in the quiet bustle of the Mages Guild, I had soon decanted a number of simple restoratives. They were not master quality by any means, but they were mine. With my thoughts finally calmed to a quiet murmur, I went to bed.
How long it was before something disturbed me, I don't know. What I do know is that I was sound asleep one minute and standing beside the bed, sword in hand, the next. I have always had a "danger sense" that told me when trouble was near. Unfortunately, it was never completely reliable. I scanned the room and saw nothing, but the prickling at the back of my neck did not go away. Deciding that it was better to look foolish than to be taken by surprise, I donned my armor and began to search the guild house. I had just reached the ground floor landing when a dark figure seemed to materialize out of the shadows, with a silver dagger in its hand. As my attacker came into the brighter light of the corridor, I realized that his armor was made of a light-absorbing material. I had no time to notice anything more, as he attacked with a ferocity I had never before encountered. I was again able to use the greater reach of my long sword to advantage, keeping away from many of his attacks. Still, a significant number got through, and I was forced to become more defensive. Realizing that I must do something to buy a breathing space, I launched a flurry of strokes that made up in energy what they lacked in style. As my opponent danced back to get out of range, I quickly downed one of the Restore Health potions Ajira had given me.
With renewed vigor, I was able to press the dark-clad knife-wielder into a corner and finish him. During the entire fight, which raged up and down the front hallway, not one of the resident mages came to my aid. Indeed, none of them even came to see what was causing the commotion. While I can understand being engrossed in one's studies, that struck me as somewhat extreme. Shaking my head at the quirks of mages, I bent to examine the body of my attacker. The armor was of very high quality; in addition to its light-absorbing properties, it also was designed to dampen sound. Despite its light weight, it was quite strong, capable of stopping or turning most blows. All this, plus the tattoo of a black spider on the dead man's left shoulder blade, pointed to only one conclusion- this was a member of the Dark Brotherhood.
Even more of a rumor than the Blades, the Dark Brotherhood was reputed to have been involved in every political upheaval in the Empire over the last 150 years. No one knew who they were or where they were based; it was said that anyone foolish or desperate enough to want to contact them merely had to speak to certain bartenders or traders and a letter would be delivered under cover of darkness. The letter would direct the "client" to leave a sum of gold and a scrap of paper with the name of the target in some out-of-the-way locale. If a watcher was set to see who picked up the gold, no one would appear. Or, so some said, the gold would be gone and the watcher found murdered, a note pinned to his chest, saying, "You paid for an assassination. You got one. Do not attempt to contact us again." All of which was very interesting, but did nothing to explain why an assassin had come after me. I was a nobody from nowhere and suddenly people were taking far too great an interest in me. I may have dreamed of having fame someday, but this was not the sort of recognition I had hoped for. Although I had no doubt annoyed a number of people, I couldn't think of anyone who was either politically connected enough or wealthy enough to be able to use the Dark Brotherhood. The only good news was that they had miscalculated. They had only sent one attacker, and a clearly inexperienced one at that. I knew that he was inexperienced for two reasons- first, he had made a noise that alerted me; second, I was still alive. In fact, the client had made another mistake- I now had a much better set of armor than I could have otherwise afforded. And now I knew I would need it.
Unable to think of anything else to do, I cleaned and repaired my equipment (including my new armor), and went back to catch up on my interrupted rest. All the swordsmanship and running and alchemy must have paid off. When I awoke I felt more confident, and as if I were faster and more nimble. I was going to have to talk to someone about this attack, but who? For anyone else, Caius would have been a logical choice, or perhaps even an Imperial guard. But I wanted to stay as far away from Caius and the Imperial Legion as I could. Maybe Sugar-Lips could give me some advice- after all, the Thieves Guild understood the extra-legal business world as well as anyone. First, though, I decided to see if Ajira had a better assignment for me than assistant-plant gatherer. When I reached her, she was in a state of high agitation. I have to tell you, it is more than a bit unsettling to watch a 5-and a-half foot tall cat lashing her tail and sheathing and unsheathing her claws. Apparently, I was not the only one who had been visited in the night.
Ajira was sure that she knew who the culprit was in her case, though. Her alchemical reports on mushrooms and flowers had been stolen; she was sure her rival apprentice, Galbedir, was behind it. Ajira also knew that Galbedir had not left the guild hall, so the reports had to be somewhere inside. After calming the frantic Khajiit, I made a systematic search, with positive results. Galbedir may have been a good enchanter, but she was lousy at hiding things, particularly from someone like me, whose business was finding hidden treasures. In a few minutes, I returned the reports to Ajira and received a number of high-quality potions in gratitude. Much as I appreciated the potions, this constant bickering and infighting was beginning to wear on me; I hoped that when I achieved sufficient rank, I could leave it behind. Meanwhile, I decided that I would go see Sugar-Lips about the assassination attempt and about any sort of paying job she might have lined up. I had this really stylish black armor I wanted to test out (all except the helmet- I have never been able to stand wearing anything that covers my face). Sugar-Lips wasn't all that interested in the assassination attempt- her attitude was that any problems I brought to Balmora with me were my own. But in the meantime, would I be interested in doing a job for her?
"Absolutely. Tell me what you need," I said.
It seems that a "friend" of Sugar-Lips needed a diamond. A certain merchant in Balmora, Nalcarya of White Haven, had a stock of diamonds. Of course, any diamond would do; it was up to me to find it. Nalcarya's shop was in the wealthy section of town, so I decided to check it out after I sold my chitin armor to Meldor. The sword I was sentimental about; the armor was just that much extra weight to lug around. I needed cash more than a spare set of armor, particularly if the Dark Brotherhood was after me. Nalcarya's shop was like paradise- she had the best alchemy equipment I had ever seen, as well as rare and exotic ingredients. No wonder Sugar-Lips sent me here to look for a diamond. Nalcarya also had a guard to keep an eye on all that expensive alchemy gear. As I looked around the shop, I saw two diamonds on a shelf just to the left of where she was working and shook my head. That just wasn't going to happen. I knew my limitations, and trying to sneak one of those stones off the shelf right in front of her was way beyond my skills. Maybe if I could create a diversion and get her to go somewhere else for a minute? Maybe yell "Fire" or something? Somehow I had the feeling she had heard that one before, so it would have to be something else. Before I got into too much of a sweat, I decided to check the rest of the shop. Every now and then, the voices in your head give good advice; usually just often enough that you're afraid to tell them to shut up.
In an upstairs bedroom, on a shelf, was a small, locked chest. The lock wasn't very good. I know, because I tested the lock with my handy lock pick, and it popped open. And inside the unlocked chest on the shelf in the bedroom were three diamonds. It really wouldn't be safe to leave such nice stones in such an insecure place, so I took them for safe-keeping. Feeling that I had done my civic duty, I got out of there. Slowly. If you run, someone will chase you just to find out why you're running. And as I hit the street, I got the feeling, the high from walking on the edge, testing the limits. That was the thing I loved about being a thief. When I was in the midst of successful job, I got a thrill that I never got when I was in a fight. In fights, I was just scared and mad and trying to stay alive. Stealing, though, was winning without resorting to violence. Sugar-Lips was going to have her diamond, and there were two more just for me. When I got back to the South Wall, I got a bit of a letdown; Sugar-Lips' "friend" hadn't paid yet, so all I got was a Potion of Invisibility. I could have gotten one of those from the Mage Guild or even made it myself. I still needed cash, so I decided to try for a different job, preferably one that paid in coin.
Sugar-Lips was happy to oblige- she wanted the key to the upper section of Nerano Manor. Meanwhile, she promoted me from Toad to Wet Ear, yet another less than flattering name. As to the key, there were known to be two; one was carried by Ondres Nerano himself, the other by his servant, Sovor Trandel. Trying to get the key from Nerano didn't seem like a winning idea, so I asked about Sovor Trandel. The report was that Trandel could usually be found hanging out in the basement of the Council Club, drinking with his buddies.
I had heard something about the Council Club, but couldn't remember what. I had a feeling that it was probably important. That was another time I should have listened to the voice inside of my head.
I didn't really trust my powers of persuasion alone to get the Nerano Manor key from Sovor Trandel, nor did I think I was skilled enough to pick his pocket. And I REALLY wasn't going to bat my eye-lashes at him. That left one other option- money. As I went back to the Mage Guild to sell my new diamonds to Ajira, I remembered that the Khajiit alchemist had mentioned something called Telvanni Bug Musk that could improve almost anyone's attitude toward the wearer. Unfortunately, she didn't have any and there were no known Telvanni in Balmora. Ajira thought Nalcarya might stock the substance, but she wasn't sure. Nalcarya, from whom I had just stolen three diamonds? I enjoyed the thrill of larceny, but not that much. Showing up for a second visit right after something valuable had disappeared was not my idea of the blueprint for a long, successful career. No, I was just going to have to try to manage with good, old-fashioned bribery. I had accumulated a little over 500 drakes from my various enterprises and hoped it would be enough. Trandel was a servant, but he was a servant in a manor house. Offer too little and he would be insulted; offer too much and I would be wasting precious funds. I hoped Sugar-Lips would pay enough to cover my expenses plus a little extra. Preferably in cash instead of potions.
So, pockets jingling with bribe money, I headed off to the Council Club. There was something about the place that I was supposed to know, but I just couldn't lay a hand to it. As a thief, everything you hear has significance. You may not recognize the significance when you hear it, but you file it away until enough other pieces become available. It is of particular importance to remember the names of people, places, and organizations- and how they relate to one another. The trouble is, you don't want to write that kind of thing down- a notebook filled with that kind of information is guaranteed to get you shortened by a head, regardless of who finds it on you. Meanwhile, I had a servant to bribe.
I breezed into the Council Club and was rather rudely greeted by the fellow at the door, who was working at repairing weapons. "Odd place to set up a smithy," I thought, but ignored him and went downstairs. To put it mildly, the customers and staff of the Council Club were not pleased to see me. As I entered from the stairs, all conversation stopped and hands reached for sword and dagger hilts. Even the bartender reached down below the bar, where I was willing to bet he had a loaded crossbow. And I was further willing to bet he wasn't planning to shoot any of his customers. I decided to play it dumb- always a natural choice for me, since it required minimal acting, and sauntered up to a well-dressed Dunmer.
"Buy you a drink?" I asked in a slightly slurred voice that implied I had already had a few.
He didn't appear to like me very much, but he was willing to drink if I was willing to buy, so we got along. "Nice outfit," I offered, "You must be one of the wealthy merch-, merk-, mer-, hic-, traders here in town." He rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like, "N'Wah" under his breath. Aloud he said, "No, you lout, I have the honor of being the head servant of Ondres Nerano."
"Head servant, huh? So you like wash his hair and stuff?"
"S'wit! I am the chief servant for his manor house! I keep everything running smoothly. He has entrusted me with a key to the manor so that I can perform my duties even in his absence!"
"A key? I bet a key to a place like that is really a work of art in itself. Wouldn't mind having a look around one of those fancy houses sometime. Say, your glass is empty there, Chief. Lemme get that for you."
And so it went for 30 tedious minutes. Trandel couldn't stand me, but he was so full of his own importance that he enjoyed having a captive audience that was too stupid to even recognize his insults. Finally judging that he had enough in him to be suggestible, but not so much that he would be snoring on the table, I took out two 50-drake pieces and began idly playing with them. "Sure would like to see inside one of those places," I said wistfully. "Must be as good as the Imperial Palace at Cyrodiil."
His eyes following the coins around the table, Trandel licked his lips and said, "It would be the end of my job if I brought an outlander into Master Nerano's home." With a casual flick, I slid the 100 drakes across the table, and pulled out another pair of 50s, which I rolled across my knuckles.
"Oh, I wouldn't want to disturb Master Nerano. I wouldn't take a peek unless he was on one of those trips out of town. And I wouldn't expect you to give me a tour, Chief; I'd just let myself in and back out. Zip, zip. Nobody the wiser." The servant mopped his brow and said, "I couldn't possibly let you wander about unsupervised..." The second 100 followed the first and I laid another 100 drakes in front of me. "Look, Chief. Fun is fun, but I don't need anybody jogging my elbow." With that, I stood up and made as if to pick up the last 100 drakes. "Wait!" Trandel put his hand down over the coins. "It isn't like Nerano pays me enough anyway. Look, here's the key. Just don't tell anyone where you got it."
So, 300 drakes lighter and one key heavier, I left the Council Club and started to head over to see Sugar-Lips. But before turning to the bridge, I stopped. I had a key to Nerano Manor in my pocket. Nerano Manor, which was just a couple of streets over. It would be kind of interesting to see how the other half lived. A quick look wouldn't hurt. And even though I was willing to work for the Guild, I was still an independent at heart. Walking like I belonged there, I made straight for Nerano Manor. I walked in the middle of the street, greeted everyone I passed, was even pleasant to the guards. You can skulk in the shadows if you like, and sometimes there are good reasons for doing so. Of course, if anyone sees you, it will be obvious that you aren't just playing hide'n'seek with the grandchildren. When you are approaching a target, it is best to be so conspicuous that no one thinks you have anything to hide. "Trey? Oh, yes, he was here. We must have talked about my vegetable garden for 15 minutes. Nice boy, very polite. Seemed to know a lot about fertilizer. Don't know why young people today go for all that black clothing, though."
The key worked like a charm and I had the upper floors of Nerano Manor to myself. I moved further up, on the assumption that the wealthier one is, the higher up he lives. I found a large, locked chest on the floor and a smaller chest, locked AND trapped, on a shelf. My probe disarmed the trap and I cast Tower Key to fox the lock. Inside was 50 drakes- a partial repayment of my bribe money to Trandel. I picked the less-complex lock on the larger chest, which must have served as a liquor cabinet. Like the true connoisseur thief I was, I left the cheap stuff and took two bottles of vintage Cyrodiilic brandy. Small, saleable, and expensive- three of my favorite words. Deciding not to press my luck, I left the way I had come, thoughtfully relocking the door. Back at the South Wall, Sugar-Lips gave me 500 septims for the key. This was more like it; I was finally starting to see a profit. Feeling good about my prospects, I stepped out into the Balmora to spend some of my profits.
All that gold was burning a hole in my pocket, so I decided to invest in some new alchemy apparatus and ingredients. I knew Nalcarya's shop had some really high-quality equipment, but I thought it might be better to try Ajira first. She had every reason to like me and give me the best prices possible. Maybe I could even trade the brandy. As it turned out, Ajira had a very fine Masters mortar & pestle that I couldn't afford. However, she also had a Journeyman-quality retort and alembic. The calcinator was of the lowest quality, and I decided I could do without it. The retort would enhance the potency and duration of all positive effects and the alembic would reduce the negative effects of my potions. I purchased both, along with a few ingredients, and unloaded the brandy. Then, just to complete the set, I went to see if Nalcarya had a journeyman-level mortar & pestle. She did and she gouged me on the price, so I didn't feel so bad about the diamonds. Along with a variety of other things, I needed to work on my haggling skills. The sad fact is, when you become accustomed to "shopping" when the store-keeper isn't around, your negotiating skills get rusty. Anyway, I headed back to the Mage Guild for a session of potion-making. I took my original mortar & pestle to store alongside the saber. Some things you just don't throw away.
You may recall that I said alchemy helps to concentrate my thoughts. As I ground and measured and mixed and heated, I allowed my mind to wander back to various conversations from earlier in the day and finally remembered why a thief needs to keep a running scorecard in his head of who's who. At some point, Meldor had been talking about the turf war between the Thieves Guild and the Camonna Tong and how it was hurting business- driving up prices and reducing profits. And then he had said, "The Camonna Tong is a bad bunch. In Balmora, they all hang out in that corner club near the strider port, the Council Club. Watch yourself if you go in there." Oh, absolutely. I would watch myself. I would watch myself act like a drunk with gold spilling from his pockets, watch myself waltz right into the base of operations of the criminal competition, watch myself hang a big sign around my neck that said, "Please kill me." Oh, blessed Kynareth, save me from myself.
You ever have one of those days where you wake up to an assassination attempt, spit in the eye of the local criminal organization, and then spend most of your getaway money on toys? And you get a feeling that says, "This day could not possibly get any worse." Track that feeling down and strangle it. It can ALWAYS get worse.
You don't always see trouble coming, no matter how observant you are. And sometimes, even though you recognize that trouble is getting ready to pay a visit, you don't know what form it is going to take. Maybe I should just tell you what happened, then you will see what I mean. Needing to take a walk- perhaps off of a high cliff- to clear my head, I stepped out of the Mages Guild. As I stood there, pondering the idea of maybe dyeing my hair and skin and changing my name to Schlamm of Black Marsh, Heddvild the Barbarian stopped to speak to me. That in itself was a surprise- I didn't think she much liked me. Of course, as far as I could tell, she didn't much like anyone. As her name suggests, Heddvild was a Nord- in this case a female barbarian. Despite her graying hair, I had the feeling she could snap my spine like a toothpick and not even muss her armor. But all she wanted was to pass on a message; so she wasn't the threat. But the message .... It seemed that Larrius Varro, the Legion Champion at Fort Moonmoth, wanted to talk to me about some unspecified subject. Moonmoth was the Legion garrison just outside of Balmora; I had passed it on my way into town.
Every time someone from the Empire wanted to talk to me, it was something I didn't like. I had been: arrested, imprisoned, put into a magical sleep, deported, asked to execute a murderer, and forcibly recruited into the Blades. This was the Empire at work. And now the head of an Imperial Legion fort wanted to speak to me "about something." My brain searched for an escape like a rat in the bottom of a kettle. Imperial Legion, Blades, Camonna Tong, the Dark Brotherhood- danger on every side. Finally, I calmed down. After all, maybe this Varro just wanted to give me a friendly warning; maybe Caius had put him up to it just to remind me that the Empire had a long reach. So I would be a good boy and go see what the nice Imperial Legion thug had to say. First, though, I would see if I could find out anything about Larrius Varro. It was obvious he knew something about me- he had asked for me by name, after all. So I needed to see what I could find out to shift the balance back my way just a bit. Heddvild was still standing there, and I realized that all of this panicking, planning, and resolving had only taken a few seconds. Since she had passed the message, she might be a good starting place for background on Varro. Her response was interesting. It turned out that Larrius Varro was not a typical Legion strong-arm type. He took the concepts of knighthood and honor seriously. He had actually sworn an oath to clean up corruption. This might be an interesting conversation. Of course, it might go something like- "I have vowed to clean up the corruption here, and I'm starting with you." Still- an honest Legion officer was something I just had to see; kind of like going to the circus.
Fort Moonmoth was just outside of town, but I still made sure that I was fully armed and armored. It only takes one assassination attempt to make me jumpy. And if they were going to try to throw me in a cell again...well, they could TRY. Upon reaching the fort, I ignored all the guards and merchants and went straight to the officers' quarters, where I found Varro. For his part, the Legion Champion did an excellent job of appearing unimpressed by me. He explained that he had "learned a bit about my situation" and wanted to tell me a "little story," after which I could ask questions. He also had a "little present" for me from the Emperor, but he didn't know what it was and couldn't remember where he had put it. Maybe after I listened to his story and did some things, he would be able to remember. A "little present" from the Emperor? Like maybe a poisoned dagger between the ribs, along with a tasteful thank-you note? Still, there was something compelling about Varro. We were on opposite sides of almost everything, but I had to respect him. He was the most driven individual I had ever met. I had the idea that this was the kind of man the Emperor sent in when he wanted results and right now. Therefore, I agreed to hear the story. If Varro considered it important enough, there had to be something to it I could turn to my advantage.
It seemed that there was a corrupt magistrate in Balmora who was taking bribes to let criminals go. And an officer who was trying to stop it, but couldn't because the magistrate had powerful friends to protect him. But then the officer realized that nobody was protecting the "bad people" who were paying the bribes. If the "bad people" weren't around anymore, the problem would be solved.
He concluded, "So the honest officer prayed for a bloodbath to wash the bad people away."
The way he told the story, without expression, in a flat voice, was more frightening than if he had yelled and thrown things. He was as serious and unstoppable as a landslide. Because I was already in so deep, and yes, because I was curious, I asked about the "bad people."
"Oh, the bad people are the Camonna Tong. But nobody will tell ME who is in the Camonna Tong, because I'm an officer and telling an officer anything is against the code. But the Thieves Guild knows, and they would tell YOU. I do know there are five Camonna Tong members in Balmora- a scout, a pawnbroker, a savant, a thief, and a smith."
Then, because I don't know how to stop when I'm behind, I asked what he meant about a "bloodbath." He explained that it would be wonderful if the bad people "went away" and weren't able to pay any more bribes. Had I said he was driven? That was the wrong word- he was absolutely insane. He wanted me, ME- to go up against five members of the Camonna Tong. By myself. Discreetly. I immediately started thinking about ways to get away from Balmora and from Varro. He must have read my mind, because he then mentioned that if I headed toward Hla Oad, I should be careful. It seemed that there was a Nord bandit robbing and killing travelers over that way. If I happened to fix that little problem, Varro would be glad to hear about it.
What was it with these Imperial types that they all thought I was some kind of black-clad, sword-wielding, sneaky hired killer? Well, besides the Dark Brotherhood armor. And the magic sword. And the dead smugglers in Addamasartus. And Adanumuran. And the little fact that I was a thief. Okay, fine. But still... Look, I was a thief- I stole money or property. My victims could always get more of either. But if you stole someone's life, how did they replace that?
With the Imperial Legion, the Blades, the Dark Brotherhood, the Camonna Tong, and who knew who else taking such an interest in me, I decided that it was time to move again. But first, because it is always a good idea to know the competition, I would take Larrius Varro's advice and ask around the Thieves Guild to find out who was in the Camonna Tong. The Thieves might not be too concerned about my Dark Brotherhood problem, but they were certainly quite interested in Camonna. With that I mind I went to Sottilde and she gave me all the information I wanted and more: she identified all five members of the Camonna Tong for me. And one of them, the savant, was Sovor Trandel. That's right, Sovor Trandel. Who now had 300 drakes of my getaway money sitting in his pocket. There wasn't a thing I could do about that- if you chase after the money you just lost, you will miss an opportunity to make more. And even more important- don't make it personal. Still, it was hard to follow my own advice this time.
I had made my decision- Balmora had gotten too hot for me. Before leaving, I wanted to make some preparations; I didn't want to be caught out in the wilds missing that one item that would mean the difference between survival and ending up on some scavenger's menu. Returning from the South Wall, I went down to "my" room in the basement of the Mages Guild. That little room had served as my base for a short time and I would miss it. As I sorted through my gear, I reluctantly admitted that I was going to have to travel light. That meant that the books and alchemy apparatus were going to have to be left behind; they were luxury items and I just couldn't afford the additional weight. On the other hand, maybe there was a way that I wouldn't have to abandon my prized possessions. There was a way to leave them here and come back as necessary without everyone in Balmora knowing about it. For those who can use Mysticism, there are methods of entering a place besides walking through the front door. First, the guild guides could transport me from one Mages Guild hall to another for a fee, and I planned to use that service. But I wanted something less public and more under my own control. The guild guides used a powerful version of a spell that linked known locations. However, an individual could learn to set a magical beacon called a Mark and then use a second spell called Recall to return to the Mark. You could only have one Mark set at any one time, but you could locate it in whatever convenient, concealed location you wanted. Then, if you needed to come back to that spot from almost anywhere in the Empire, you could. There were stories about some places that blocked mystical travel, but I didn't plan to go near any of those.
Translocation always made me feel as if I had forgotten my stomach somewhere on the other side of the continent, but it beat riding a giant flea. And besides, public transportation like the silt striders was just that, PUBLIC. It wouldn't be hard at all for an outfit like the Camonna Tong or the Dark Brotherhood (or the Empire) to set watchers at every strider port and dock in Morrowind. The routes and schedules were well-known; preparing a welcoming committee would be simple. If I didn't want to walk everywhere, probably having to deal with the local wildlife every few yards, I needed to learn Mark and Recall. I went to Ajira, figuring she was my best friend in Balmora (or anywhere), and asked her.
"Ajira does not believe anyone in the Balmora Mages Guild knows these spells. Ajira suggests that Trey speak to the priests at the Tribunal Temple."
That was good advice, because it reminded my of another travel spell I wanted to learn, one called Almsivi Intervention. That particular spell was another translocation magic, but one that wasn't tied to a single fixed point. Instead, Almsivi would instantly bring the caster to the nearest Tribunal Temple. That could be useful- if you found yourself in a serious enough situation to need to Almsivi out of it, chances were you would need some healing. The Imperials had a similar spell, called Divine Intervention, that would bring you to the nearest Imperial Cult shrine. The only problem with that was that Imperial Cult shrines tend to be built inside of Imperial forts, which contain large numbers of Imperial soldiers. No, Almsivi was better for me. It was time to pay my respects at the Tribunal Temple of Balmora.
I got a rather chilly reception at the Temple; these dark elves really didn't like anyone they considered as coming from the Empire- which meant anyone who wasn't a dark elf. They weren't overtly hostile, but they looked at me as if I didn't smell very good. I really needed to find those spells, so I would put up with some rudeness. Finally, I located Feldrelo Sadri, the master of the Balmora temple.
She sneered, "I suppose you want to join the Temple," in a tone that indicated she was equally sure the moons were made of Dreugh wax.
I admit I took a certain perverse pleasure in saying, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I would very much like to join the Temple." After the reception I had gotten, I realized I was going to have to do something or these monks would gouge me outrageously for the spells, assuming they would teach them to me in the first place. But if I was a member, they had to offer me services. And they might even like me a little better. The old biddy was already turning away from me, sure she was going to hear a refusal; my "yes" stopped her cold. She recovered quickly, though, and started the whole, "we-don't-let-just-anyone-join" routine.
"We value certain skills," she said.
"And those are...?" I asked politely.
"Blunt weapons, conjuration, mysticism..."
My heart sank with each word- I had minimal ability in any of those. But then she said, "And of course, restoration and alchemy to heal the people." Immediately, I asked to be tested, and after a few probing questions, she had to admit I was qualified. In fact, the conversation about alchemy and restoration thawed her considerably toward me. She then explained that, before undertaking Temple duties, I would need to complete something called the "Pilgrimage of the Seven Graces" and gave me a book, The Pilgrim's Path. The book detailed the locations of the shrines and the devotion to be performed at each. That might make a good cover; get a cheap robe to conceal my armor and pretend to be a religious pilgrim. That would allow me to move around and would even excuse odd behavior. Now a member in good standing, I strolled downstairs and learned the transportation spells I had wanted. I had to swap some of my potions for the spells, as my cash was limited. Back in the Mages Guild, I checked with Ajira once more for any easy tasks she might need done- even if she paid me in potions, I could barter them for something else. Ajira allowed that she was aware of some "secrets," but that she would not let me in on them until I reached Warlock rank. Meanwhile, she indicated that I could ask Ranis, the head of the Balmora guild, for some work. She paused, and then added, "Ajira does not like Ranis much. Perhaps Trey could speak to Ajira's friend Edwinna Elbert at Ald'ruhn."
So I had my spells, I had a way to get back to my possessions quickly and quietly, I had a cover, all I needed now was a destination. Oh, and I needed to set my Mark spell. For now, I decided that the little bedroom here in the Balmora Mages Guild would be a good place. It took me a few attempts- my Mysticism wasn't exactly first-rate. That taken care of, I raided the Mages Guild supply chest and went over my gear one more time. All of this may seem like excessive preparation, but I was more suited to towns and cities than to a life on the road, despite having grown up at an out-of-the-way inn. Even though I could get along in the wilderness and possessed considerable herb-lore, I wasn't one of those sit-around-the-fire, kill-animals-wear-their-skins types. In my brief experience, beds beat the scrib jerky out of the ground for sleeping. In fact, after a few days of sleeping on the ground, you would resemble scrib jerky- tough, salty, and smelly.
With a heartfelt prayer to whatever gods might be listening, whether Dunmer or Imperial, I asked the guild guide, Masalinie Merian, to send me to Caldera. I hoped that I would find some peace there, as well as a chance to earn some money. Sometimes, half a wish is the best you can get.
(c)2005 Treydog
On to chapter 3