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slusheeduck · 9 months

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Count Only The Happy Hours

PART I: [I][II][III][IV][V][VI][VII] PART 2: [I][II]

III.

“I-I have that metal sheet you needed, C-Councilor Sil.”

“Hm? Oh, thank you, set it down there.”

Vivec, busy sharpening his sword in the courtyard of their base, paused in his work to look up. Sil, as usual, was elbow deep in one of his metal beasties–this one was less spider-like and instead long and twitchy, not unlike a nix-hound. Meanwhile, the young mer who had brought the sheet did not set it down, instead dithering. He must have been a Dagoth boy, hardly older than Seht himself; the dark hair and angular face certainly gave him a Vorynesque air. He shifted from one foot to the other.

“Um…do you…do you need anything else, muthsera?”

“No. Thank you.”

Vivec closed one eye as he watched the scene, bringing the thumb and forefinger of each hand together before drawing them apart, mimicking an archer about to let his arrow loose. The Dagoth boy didn’t notice.

“I-I…you know, I-I’m actually, I’m really interested in what you’re doing,” he tried again, almost painfully eager. “I would love to hear you speak about it some time. O-or if I could help you with your work…?”

Hold…hold…

“I don’t need help. Thank you, sera,” Sil said in clear dismissal. He hadn’t looked up at the boy once through the whole conversation.

The boy’s eyes widened, mouth moving silently as he tried to figure out how to salvage the conversation. Finally, looking utterly crestfallen, he sighed and set the metal sheet down, then bowed to Seht and trudged away.

Vivec let out a ffwth through his teethbefore clicking his tongue, mimicking an arrow shot as he released his invisible bowstring. The sound was enough to startle Sil into noticing him. “That’s number eight.”

Sil frowned. “Number what?”

“Eight. That’s the number of shattered hearts you’ve left in your wake in the past three months, at least that I’ve seen.”

Sil let out a quiet, irritated noise as he rubbed his eyes. “Vehk, what are you saying?”

Vivec rested his elbow on his knee, chin in his hand. “Well, hla’daesohn, you’re at that age. On the market, as they say. And at least eight people have been bold enough to bid.”

Seht’s eyes rolled enough to send his slight frame swaying. “If you’re going to talk nonsense, I’m just going to leave.”

Vivec laughed. “People are interested in you, Seht. You’ve grown into a fine young mer, with a House and a high-ranking position to boot, and the throngs are noticing. Why, if I was your mother…”

“That’s a scary thought.”

“...I’d be beating off would-be wooers with a broom until your eighteenth birthday. Which, if I recall, is coming up in just a few months.” Vivec tilted his head. “And, as your dear older brother, it’s my fraternal duty to ask if any mer has managed to interest you.”

Sil gave a long-suffering sigh, and he returned to his work. “I really don’t think being in the middle of a war is conducive to relationships, Vivec.”

“Oh, that’s not true. In fact, I’d say that love found in times of strife makes for even stronger bonds.”

“From experience?”

“Perhaps. I don’t tell you everything I do.”

Sil gave him one of the flattest looks Vivec had ever received–impressive, considering how often he received them. “You know, most people don’t pride themselves on being hypocrites.”

“I’m not a hypocrite, I’m complex and wonderfully mortal. To be contradictory is…” Vivec’s monologue was, frustratingly, cut off by a pair of strong hands clamping down on his shoulders. He looked up, eyebrows raising as he caught star-bright eyes. “Alandro?”

“Excellent news, Vehk.” Alandro gave his shoulders an uncharacteristically friendly squeeze; Vivec had the feeling that he was not about to get excellent news. “You finally get the chance to do what you do best. You’re on entertainment today.”

Vivec frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Alandro patted his shoulders before sitting down beside him with a sigh. “Well, I only know half of the whole story–these damn House mer all seem to only half-communicate. No offense, Sil.”

“None taken,” Seht said, not even looking up.

“But, from what I can understand, it’s some House…”

“Vivec! Sil!”

Both Vehk and Seht looked up as they heard Nerevar call their names. He gestured for them to come over. Alandro let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank Azura. They can explain this House guarshit,” he said, then pushed himself up to his feet. “Come on, then.” He glanced down at Sil as he carefully pulled a tarp over his work. “Is that a nix-hound?”

“An approximation of one.”

Alandro half-smiled. “Maybe there is some Dwemer in you. You check to see if ol’ Kagrenac’s missing a kid?” he teased, giving Sil’s shoulder a friendly push as they made their way into the war room.

Voryn was already inside, sitting back with his arms crossed. He didn’t look smug, exactly, but there was a definite air of winning an argument surrounding him as Nerevar dropped into the seat beside him. Neht rubbed his face, waiting for Alandro, Sil, and Vivec to take a seat.

“So,” Nerevar started, lifting his head. “There’s a slight update to our plans. You recall we were supposed to speak with the Grandmaster of House Dres?”

“Yes, Grandmaster Elvasea,” Vivec said, sitting up. “Has something happened to her?”

“Something happened to us,” Voryn said, head tilting toward the door. “We suddenly gained an army of Indoril soldiers.”

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“That’s what I said,” Alandro muttered beside him.

Voryn looked around the room, then sighed. “If it hasn’t been clear in the struggle of getting Nerevar to become Hortator, the Great Houses aren’t exactly fond of each other. Some of it is due to old rivalries–House Dagoth and Indoril, for example, have never been very keen on each other. But sometimes, it’s a little more personal.” He leaned forward, long fingers steepling together. “Indoril’s last grandmaster wasn’t exactly popular among the other houses. He was combative, difficult to work with…” He paused for a moment, then shook his head. “He was a bloodthirsty, miserable old bastard, to put it bluntly. And he made more enemies than friends–including Grandmaster Elvasea.” He waved a hand. “So when word got out that House Indroril’s grandmaster was here, she tried to cancel our discussion.”

Vivec leaned forward. “But Almalexia isn’t her father.”

“That’s what I said,” Nerevar said. Voryn shook his head.

“That doesn’t matter. Grandmaster Almalexia hasn’t proven herself as being different than her father, so in the other Houses’ eyes, it might as well still be him in the seat.” He sat back. “My suggestion is that we leave the grandmaster and her forces here.”

“No, your suggestion is that we sneak out without telling her,” Nerevar shot back. “And I can’t condone that. Almalexia is our ally; we can’t just leave her in the dark, Voryn.”

“She won’t take our leaving her out of discussions well,” Voryn said coolly. “Considering she sprung an army on us and insisted on staying, she’s thus far proven that she is impetuous and stubborn. Which…” He held up his hand as both Neht and Vehk leaned forward to argue. “...is likely because of her age.” He looked to Vivec. “You, Vivec, should know best out of everyone here how important it is to leave out information. I don’t recall you writing about how we had to retreat at Hafnambir, or mentioning how many soldiers we lost at Citha Molkhun?”

Vivec pressed his lips together. “That’s different.”

“Is it? You don’t mention those details because it would decrease morale among the Chimer.” Voryn sighed. “As much as I may not like House Indoril, I don’t want to make an enemy of their Grandmaster. If we don’t tell her about the meeting–the one that we had planned before her entry, may I remind you all–then she has no reason to think she’s being left out.”

Alandro’s head fell back with a groan, and he pushed himself up to his feet. “You godsdamned House mer. Talking to people shouldn’t be a puzzle.”

“Well, I’m very sorry that we can’t all solve our problems by slashing at them like you do in the Ashlands,” Voryn snipped back.

Vivec looked between the two, then glanced at Nerevar as he rubbed his face. This, he realized as his stomach sank, was the exact same thing they had done with him three years ago, in the lead-up to their attack on Hofstaag. Even worse, though, were the words that came from his own lips: “I…agree with Voryn.”

All three older mer looked to Vivec, and he caught sight of Sil’s eyebrows silently raising. Nerevar frowned, but he leaned forward.

“Why do you think it’s a good idea?” he asked. The words weren’t challenging, and his pale blue eyes were genuinely curious as they fixed on Vehk.

“Editing is…essential in what we’re doing,” Vivec said after a moment. “Morale is high, but it wasn’t exactly easy convincing the Houses to make your Hortator, Neht. I may not know House politics, but I know people: Almalexia is young and still adapting to her new role. I’ve seen it in her. If we tell her ‘We’re meeting with Grandmaster Elvasea, but you need to stay here,’ it’s not unreasonable that she’d see it as a slight to her station and ability that we’re leaving her out of House talks.” He shrugged. “It could come across as treating her as a child.”

Voryn gestured to him. “Yes, exactly. It would do us no favors to tell her; whether she comes with us and Elvasea refuses to meet or whether she stays here, there’s a wounded ego waiting to happen. And that brings me to my next suggestion: Vivec and Sil should stay here.” As Vivec sat up, Voryn raised a hand again, adding, “And before your pride gets wounded, Vivec, I am only suggesting this because I genuinely think you’re able to smooth things over with the grandmaster if need be.” He crossed his arms. “You thought you were very slick with that story about her breaking up the mercenaries, didn’t you?”

Vivec grimaced, sitting back in his seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said weakly.

“Please. But, much as I hate admitting it, it was a good move on your part. It got her moving and ultimately got us more soldiers. And it’s a detriment to us; I was banking on you talking circles around whatever doubts Grandmaster Elvasea had with your exaggerations.”

Vivec had a feeling his ego was being played to, in a backhanded sort of way. But a compliment–two compliments–from Voryn was a rare occurrence for anyone besides Nerevar. And, admittedly, staying around the vibrant, fascinating young queen did sound much more enjoyable than having to spin words for an old grandmaster from a dour, stark house like Dres. So, after a moment’s deliberation, he nodded.

“All right. I’ll stay.” He tilted his head toward Sil. “Why have Seht stay, though?”

“Well, for one, it’s less suspicious if the two junior counselors are left behind,” Voryn said, then looked over to Sil. “And I don’t imagine you’d particularly enjoy having tea with a Grandmaster who no doubt would be trying to set you up with her eligible granddaughter.”

Sil, to his credit, did try to hide his grimace. “I think my time would be better spent working on the animunculi for the next battle,” he said diplomatically.

Voryn nodded. “So it’s decided. You two stay here, and the three of us will go to see Grandmaster Elvasea. And Vivec, you will keep her from figuring out what we’ve done.”

It didn’t set well with Vivec, having to lie to Almalexia, but…well, that was a war, wasn’t it? He dipped his head.

“I’ll ensure Grandmaster Almalexia is occupied. I’m sure she’s tremendously busy anyway.”

The sun was already up by the time Nerevar, Alandro, and Voryn left Ald’ruhn to meet with Grandmaster Elvasea. They weren’t going to be far; her retinue had arrived from the mainland the day before, in Seyda Neen, and they were due to meet halfway, in Balmora. But all the same, leaving early both ensured that they wouldn’t be late, and they’d be less likely to be caught by any Indorils.

Truthfully, Vivec hadn’t slept much at all the night before. He’d meticulously planned the day, crafting a day full of touring Ald’ruhn, talking to locals, endearing her to the mer out here in a way as close to Nerevar’s introduction to Vvardenfell had been. Not only would it endear the Grandmaster to the locals, but it’d also ensure Almalexia didn’t notice the absence of the three senior council members.

So, as he went to her tent once the sun had crested over the ashen hills, he was fully confident in how the day was going to go.

That plan had not included having a sword tossed at him.

He jolted in surprise, just barely catching it–thank the Three it was sheathed, or he might never have written anything again. He looked up to see the source of the toss.

If not for the fiery hair bound back or the sharp, golden eyes, he might not have realized it was the Grandmaster in front of him. Her armor had been left inside the tent, it seemed, and she was clad in the more usual style of mainlander Chimer–a tight, cropped jerkin, leaving her arms and midriff exposed, and a pair of breeches just loose enough to allow for movement without running the risk of being caught by a blade. Inky black tattoos covered her exposed skin, traveling down her arms and perfectly mirroring itself across the taut golden skin of her stomach. He wondered, for a moment, if they were significant, but his attention was drawn back up at the choking noise that came from Hlareni, who stepped out from the tent at precisely the moment Vivec caught the sword.

“Almalexia,” she hissed, walking over to the other woman. “You cannot throw swords at our hosts!”

“Oh, I’m quite alright,” Vivec assured, giving her a smile before he looked down at the sword. “It, ah, is certainly a way to make sure you’re awake. But I was just coming by to see if the Grandmaster would like a tour of Ald’ruhn.” His brow furrowed, and he glanced back up to Almalexia. “Though I am curious why you threw a sword at me.”

“Well, I did think you were the Hortator,” Almalexia said with a shrug. “You wear your hair the same. I wanted to spar with him; I’ve heard so much about his prowess, and I wanted to see how it matched with my own.”

Hlareni rubbed her forehead. “Alma, throwing swords at the Hortator is worse.” She blanched. “Not…obviously, Councilor Vivec, we don’t want to throw swords at you, either, I just…”

Vivec chuckled, unsheathing the sword. “Well, I’m afraid the Hortator is caught up for the moment. But I’d be glad to spar with the Grandmaster–I’m no Nerevar, certainly, but I’ve held my own on several occasions.” He gave a shrug, along with a lazy flourish of his sword. “I did, after all, train with Fa-Nuit-Hen.”

Hlareni gaped at him. “Fa…Fa-Nuit-Hen? Boethiah’s son?”

“The very one. I was very, very young, of course, so the details of his teaching get a bit fuzzy.”

Almalexia’s eyebrows rose, but her eyes narrowed at him, an amused smile on her lips. “He’s joking, f’lah.”

Vivec’s hand went over his heart, jaw dropped in indignation. “You’re calling me a liar, muthsera? I would never do such a thing, especially not to our esteemed guests.” He gestured toward the training area with his sword. “But, of course, you’re more than welcome to test me.”

“Then I will,” Almalexia said, lifting her chin with a smile as she walked over. “If the Hortator’s too busy, I suppose a student of Fa-Nuit-Hen will suffice.”

“You keep saying that like you don’t believe me.”

“That’s because I don’t, serjo.” She looked over at Hlareni over her shoulder. “You ought to go chat with Councilor Sil. He seems like the type to get busy.”

Vivec looked to Hlareni as he rested his sword against his shoulder, eyebrows raising. “You have something to discuss with Sil?”

Hlareni went stiff, and he could see the way she was trying to keep herself from going red; it wasn’t working. “Oh, ah, well, I…I just think his creations are fascinating, a-and I want to learn more about them. And he’s so very…tall.”

And here’s number nine, Vivec thought, but he smiled at her. “Extraordinarily tall, yes,” he said with a chuckle. “He’ll be glad to talk metal beasties with you, though don’t expect him to notice when you get bored.”

“I won’t get bored,” Hlareni insisted just a touch too emphatically. She stiffened, then quickly bowed to Almalexia. “I’ll…I’ll be back shortly, Grandmaster.” When Almalexia nodded, she turned on her heel and practically jogged away.

Vivec smiled, turning to catch up with the Grandmaster. “No one’s had luck with him yet, you know.”

Almalexia rolled her eyes, though the action was obviously fond. “Reni is…eager for love. Always has been. She’ll drool over Councilor Sil for a week and then get her head back on straight when he shoots her down.”

“You’ve known her for a long time, then?”

“Oh, yes, we grew up together. Her mother was my father’s favorite advisor.” She smiled. “She probably seems very flouncy and coddled to you, but she’s a great asset on the battlefield. And…she’s much better at being polite than I am.”

Vivec smiled. “I can sympathize with her. I’m the one who reminds Seht to be polite.” He chuckled as they reached the training ground. “They’ll probably get along marvelously in that case.”

“Mm.” Almalexia rolled her neck, then looked straight at Vivec. “Now, most people don’t give it their all when they spar with me. I’m insisting that you do, Councilor; if I can’t block your attacks, then I have no business being here.”

Vivec dipped his head. “Of course, Grandmaster. And, of course, I’ll be a terrible pupil of both Fa-Nuit-Hen and Nerevar if I can’t block yours.”

Almalexia grinned. “Excellent. To three hits, then.”

She gave him a bow, and he returned it, then they both lifted their weapons. There was a glint in her golden eyes, dangerous and bright, and it was all the warning Vivec got before she lunged. He barely jumped back in time, the metal of her blade singing through the air.

Well. He could see how Alandro was starting to warm up to her.

But he was very, very quick, his movements light and airy compared to her grounded force. She dove for him with heavy bladework; he flitted in her blind spots to look for an opening. She countered with ease; he wondered if she had been born with a blade in her hand, with how naturally her sword moved with her. He kept just out of reach—he was a good swordsmer, yes, but he was a late learner; his cuts were clumsy compared to hers.

It was well and truly a dance, each style complimenting the other’s just enough to keep blows from landing.

“One.”

He landed the first hit with a clever feint; the force of her blow toward it slowed her down, and he was able to tap the flat of his sword against her arm. He backed away to reset, smiling…until he saw the look on her face. The glint in her eyes blazed into golden fire as she looked over at him, and she set her jaw as she stood up straight.

Ah. This was not a mer who liked to lose.

He raised his sword, signaling his readiness, and she came at him with all the fury of He-Who-Destroys and She-Who-Erases. He fell to defense, just barely blocking her blows as she came at him with boundless stamina. It wasn’t a surprise when he floundered, rewarded with the hard slap of cold metal against his arm.

“One,” she said.

The next round he faired better. He knew what to expect with this renewed passion, and, accustomed as he was to opponents much bigger and stronger than he was, he could work around brute force.

“Two,” he said.

But she was catching on. If his movements were flighty and quick, then she was a sabrecat, prowling for him. She worked on wearing him down, goading him one direction and the next, following his movements with her fiery gaze.

“Two,” she said.

By now, they were both panting, skin dusty from the combination of sweat and ash. They circled each other, each waiting for the other to move first. A few coppery curls had escaped from Almalexia’s braid, brushing her cheeks. Vivec gave her a grin.

“Has anyone told you how very beautiful you are?” he asked. “Like a star blazing through the sky as it falls.”

Almalexia gaped, caught off-guard. He lurched forward, tapping his sword against her thigh.

“Three.” Vivec sheathed his sword, still grinning. “You see, Neht was right: I wield my words just as well as my sword.”

Almalexia stared at him, and he met her gaze. There was a moment where he could see fury at the trick boiling beneath her skin. But, like a fever, it seemed to break, and she let out a laugh.

“I would call that cheating,” she says. “But really, I should know better. Hollow compliments are all you hear in my position.”

“Who said it was hollow? I speak nothing but the truth, muthsera.”

“Mm. Like your egg? And Fa-Nuit-Hen?”

“Exactly. Regardless of what you think, it’s all very true to me.”

Almalexia’s gaze flicked up to him, a soft sort of curiosity in her eyes. For a moment, they were silent, an unspoken question hanging heavily between them. There were several options for what it was; Vivec was quite content to wait for it to surface.

But she broke the spell before it could, sheathing her sword. “Have you considered using a spear, Councilor?”

“Like the netchimen use?”

“In a sense. You like to stay as far away as possible from your target; I think a spear would suit you quite well.” She tucked a curl behind her ear. “I could show you, later. I’m trained in just about every weapon possible.”

Vivec’s lips turned up, and he set his hand over his heart. “I would be honored. In fact, I…” He went quiet, head suddenly turning. “Do you hear that?”

Almalexia frowned, striding over to him. “It sounds like…fighting. Is there training today?”

“No, it…” Vivec’s eyes went wide. “Seht!”

He sprinted back into town, immediately greeted with the smell of smoke and blood on the stones.

The streets were full of Nords, a surprise attack no doubt planned for when the councilors were due to be away. The Chimer, at least, were holding their own; from his quick glance as he ran, it seemed that there were more Nord bodies on the cobblestones. But their base…that’s where they were headed. And where he’d left Sil.

A few Nords tried to cut him down, but he was quicker. Each was slashed as he made his way through the streets, either dead or incapacitated; he didn’t care to check.

Smoke was already pouring out of the hall when he reached it, and he stood for just a moment too long as the worst possibility entered his mind. He reacted far too late as he saw movement in the corner of his eye, and a Nord—large and furious, eyes wild with bloodlust—lunged at him. Just as he braced for the deep cut of her blade, the Nord’s head, still snarling, fell forward, with her body following quickly behind. Vivec looked up to see Almalexia panting, blade dripping red.

“Go inside and get the survivors,” she barked at him, full of authority. She turned to the nearby Chimer, shouting commands and directing them against the onslaught.

Vivec wasted no time; he dove into the smoke-filled hall, eyes watering against it. As he ran, he stumbled on something, just barely affording a look as he caught his balance. The Dagoth boy, the one that had been mooning over Seht just that morning, lay motionless and pale on the ground, black eyes fixed blindly overhead and blood leaking into his dark hair.

Vivec breathed out a prayer to Azura, but he turned and kept moving. To the living Chimer he found, he yelled out directions to the exit, urging them to leave, NOW and find Grandmaster Almalexia.

Finally, he made it to the courtyard. There, in the center, was Sil; given the charred bodies around him, he must have been able to hold his own with his magic. But magicka was finite, and even from here, Vehk could see he had drained his reserves. He had a hollow look in his face, and for a brief moment as they locked eyes, he saw the very same boy he’d found in the rubble three years ago.

Vivec cried out as one of the bodies moved. A Nord heaved himself up, axe in hand, and lunged toward Sil. Vivec sprinted forward, blade up, but he wouldn’t be fast enough. Sil looked up at the Nord.

It was just two motions. One quick pull of the knife out of the sheath at Sil’s belt, and a sharp, sideways push into the Nord’s belly.

Sil left the knife in the Nord as he fell, and he nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to get to Vivec. “There wasn’t any warning,” he said, words tumbling over themselves. “They just…they flooded the city. I didn’t have time to send my spiders out, I did what I could with my magic, but…”

Vivec took his face, looking him over. “Are you hurt?”

“O-only superficially. We have to get the others out.”

“They’re out. Almalexia’s in the city. Did Hlareni make it to you?”

“Y-yes, but I didn’t…once the attack started, I-I—Vivec, turn around!”

Vivec whirled around, eyes wide as a large Nord burst through the doorway. She wielded a mace as tall as she was, and she let out a bellow of fury as she locked eyes on Vivec and Sil.

“Stay behind me, Sil,” Vivec said.

“But…”

“Stay behind me, hla’daesohn.”

Adrenaline was singing through Vivec’s veins, but even so, he could feel the edges of exhaustion. His sparring with Almalexia had used up more stamina than he’d initially thought, and it was very likely that this would not end well. He took a breath, adjusting his grip on his blade, then gritted his teeth.

The Nord gave an unpleasant laugh and muttered to herself, no doubt something about “milk-drinking knife ears.” It was possible he could taunt her into a fury if she was talkative. It could buy Sil enough time to get out. He just had to find the right way to…

The Nord lunged. Vivec pushed Sil back, then sprinted forward. Silently, he prayed that the mace would crush his skull too quickly for him to greet his death. A coward’s prayer, maybe, but infinitely more preferable to feeling his brains spatter the courtyard.

But, rather than his death, he was greeted with a spray of blood as an arrow tore through the Nord’s neck.

He skidded to a halt, staring as several more arrows whizzed through the air. The Nord went down silently, and both he and Sil stared at her body for a moment. It wasn’t until they heard a breathless voice calling, “Councilors!” that they turned around.

Hlareni sprinted up to them. Her hair had fallen from its ribbon, and her finery was smudged with soot and blood. She still had an arrow nocked, and her blue eyes were sharp as she scanned the area.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “I-I’m sorry, Councilor Sil, I…I had to get to higher ground and…”

“Apologize later,” Vivec said quickly. “We need to get out.”

She nodded. “I’ll take the front. I’m not as good at short-range, but I can manage!” She nodded for them to follow her, and the three made their way out to the streets.

By the time they were outside, the Nords were already retreating, with a few more being felled by arrows and spells on their way out. Vivec’s head swiveled, looking for Almalexia. He found her in the middle of the street, holding an arm out to stop their forces from following after them. She stood tall, face stony and eyes blazing as she watched the retreat. Once the Nords were out of the city walls, she turned to the crowd behind her.

“These Outlanders have no place here!” she called to the mer behind her. “They attack our city, our homeland, as nothing more than an invasive blight on Resdayn! But we have driven them back like the vermin they are!”

A cheer rose from the crowd, and Vivec found his own spirit lifting. Well! She might be well on her way to becoming as popular as…

“Nerevar.” Sil gripped Vivec’s arm. “The Nords must have known that he would be gone. They wouldn’t have struck like that otherwise. Which means…”

Vivec’s spirits quickly dropped back down to his feet. “There may be another ambush.” He whirled around. “Grandmaster!” he called up to Almalexia. “Organize the remaining mer!”

Almalexia turned back to look at him, brow furrowing, but she gave a short nod. “Hlareni! Guide the soldiers to finding survivors! I’ll take care of the fighters.”

Vivec ushered Sil to the gates, another rush of fear giving his legs strength as they ran. They had to be quick—if they dallied too long, they could be too late.

He prayed, to the Three Good Daedra and any other Divine that would listen, that they weren’t already.

#tesfic #tribunal #vivec #sotha sil #almalexia #nerevar #voryn dagoth #dagoth ur #alandro sul #fanfic #elder scrolls #morrowind

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mareenavee · 5 days

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That Is the Choice I Give You

Mind the Tags on the card, please.

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Major Character Death Other Important Tags: Canon-Typical Racism Twin Lamps

Written for my dearest friend and greatest supporter, Jinumon. Thank you for indulging my TES brainwyrms here, in Skywind and, finally, in person. ✨❤️

This version of Tul was Jinumon's idea. Anali, mentioned briefly, is an easter egg for @changelingsandothernonsense's fic universe, and is her Khajiit OC.

Written in response to a prompt challenge, as well! The Prompt

First Seed

Without further ado,

That Is the Choice I Give You

A Historical Perspective Regarding the Twin Lamps and Its Activities in Vvardenfell, 3E427: Part One

A note from the publisher:

These letters and journals were recovered or removed from Dren Plantation and Ules Manor before being carried to Ebonheart by formerly shackled individuals. The original texts were written either in pictographic Jel, a coded version of Tamrielic known between the two correspondents, or a combination of the two. They were translated and edited for readability with no small effort by the members of the Argonian Mission in Ebonheart before submission.

Light the way.

16 First Seed 3E427

You must excuse the mud and dirt between these pages—my previous journal was lost to me in the fire that consumed a building on the eastern edge of the plantation. I would not change it, as that fire allowed for Anali’s escape when our plan had been all but compromised. I’ve decided to keep this one in an area that the Ienith brothers do not tread. After all, the one they’ve set to watch ought to check these perimeters. It is beneath them. But that one is lazy and sleeps on the job.

If there is luck to be had in situations like these, I suppose it is that I can write and have not lost my arm for it, and still have both eyes to observe these things and send word whenever possible back to Im-Kilaya.

As of late, I find Dren distracted, often leaving his manor in the dead of night, Ienith hounds in tow. Something is changing here on the island. I do not know what. All I can do is make use of the confusion and lapse in security and continue the work I’ve risked my life to do. I think, as of today, I’ve freed nearly twenty shackled in my current role and have so far avoided suspicion.

Yes. I realize I could die at any time. I am no stranger to the cruelty here, where a single glance can be considered an egregious misstep. I have the scars to prove it. But I gave my word—and thus my life—to the Cause. This is another thing I would not change. -> Read more on AO3

#MareenaWrites #That Is the Choice I Give You #Morrowind #Morrowind Fic #TES #tesblr #tes fic #fanfiction #fanficblr #tesfic #elder scrolls #elder scrolls fic #Tul #Tul's Escape #Twin Lamps

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druidx · 1 year

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Theme Tag Game

Thanks for the tag, @alias-levi :D

Rules: Bold the themes that appear in your WIP (& italicize those that are loosely covered) then tag 10 people.

Tagging: @wildswrites @aalinaaaaaa @thewriteflame @aquadestinyswriting @artdecosupernova-writing @autumnalwalker @blind-the-winds @eli-writes-sometimes @hannahcbrown @oh-no-another-idea @rhikasa @swordsoulwrites @winglesswriter @andromeda-grace @writingmaidenwarrior

I swear I’ve done one of these for The Ruby Falls, but do you think I can find it to check? Can I, frick. Anyway.

The Ruby Falls

#meta writing #theme tag #tag game #TESFic #oblivion fanfiction #oblivion fanfic #tes oblivion #The Elder Scrolls #haven's ember series #modern oblivion au #oc aderyn griffiths #meta wandering words #this has been in my drafts so long

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gilgamish · 1 year

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WIP Wednesday

For each part of the day in Riften, there was a market: Morning market was held in the Warke, a long curving street just outside the bustle of Plankside, and if Riften’s many, many bridges over many, many canals were arteries, then Ironarms, the centre of Plankside, was its beating, impassioned heart. Ironarms’s bustle never really died out, even when night came, but rather it just went down to the Dryside, just above the water’s surface. Today, on a sweltering Midyear summer afternoon, Brynjolf, formerly of Clan Hale-Fire, worked his stall in Plankside’s Ironarms. He was many things: A career-thief, an official merchant-citizen of the Rift, broker of secrets, but above all of these roles, he was first and foremost an opportunist. In the same way that a sapper picked off the sentinels guarding a keep, he knew how to pick the right ones out from the wrong crowd, and today, he wasn’t looking for future Guild members in the street rats stalking the crowds. He wasn’t even looking for the next poor sap he would talk into buying his snake-oil.

He considered young women for scullery maids, but there weren’t any girls who looked desperate enough to take on the toil. He looked to young men for the same, but none were young enough to pass off as stableboys to the Jarl’s horsemaster. And besides, Letrush likely remembered his face still. But there was one his gaze lingered on, a gangly figure dressed in rags. His mind’s eye delivered him a picture of that same figure huddling in the Warrens with all the other people that the city forgot about. That was, if they even survived that long.

“Laundryman. Manservant,” he murmured to himself, deciding on a role for them, then lurched, leaving his stall.

Premise: What if how Brynjolf recruited your character into the Thieves Guild went a little differently? Thank you for the tag @tallmatcha <3 Tagging all of my mutuals, but no pressure :D!

#wip wednesday #skyrim #tesfic

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ainaavas-sketchbook · 2 years

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TESFest Day 06 - Final Kiss/Prophecy

"Hind siiv Alduin, hmm?" Ivrasea stared down the dragon in front of her. They had managed to lure Odahviing into the trap above Dragon's Reach.

"Vahzah. Where is he?" Miraak walks up next to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. He is always there, reminding her where she is, who she is. Making sure she doesn't lose herself talking with the dragons. She tends to forget the people around her don't also understand the dragon tongue.

"Rinik vahzah. Alduin bovul. One reason I came to your call was test your Thu'um myself. Many have begun to question Alduin's lordship, whether his Thu'um was really the strongest... Among ourselves, of course. None we yet ready to openly defy him." Ivrasea rolled her eyes at the dragon. She didn't particularly care about what the dragons thought of Alduin. She just wanted to get this stupid prophecy thing over with but of course the dragons aren't making it easy on her.

"He's hiding? Where?" Odahviing laughed at her impatience. Ivrasea took a step forward, a spell flaring to life in her hand, but she was of course held back by Miraak.

"Unslaad krosis. He has travelled to Sovengarde to regain his strength, devouring the sillsejoor. A privilege he jealously guards... His door to Sovengarde is in Skuldafn, one of his ancient fanes high in the eastern mountains. Mindoraan, pah middovahhe lahvraan til. Zu'u lost ofan hin laan... now that I have answered your question, will you allow me to go free?" She narrowed her eyes at the dragon before responding.

"No. Not until Alduin is defeated." The dragon seemed to smile at her.

"Hmm... krosis. There is one detail I neglected to mention about Skuldafn." It seemed so quiet up here with the dragon. She wasn't alone, she knew that by the hand on her shoulder, keeping her grounded. And she knew there were other people in the room with her, witnessing the conversation between her and Odahviing.

"What is it? Spill it." She was trying so hard to keep her composure but she was so tired from all this. The dragons got on every last one of her nerves, making her want to kill them even more. And they all seemed to enjoy it.

"You have the Thu'um of a dovah but without the wings of one, you will never set foot in Skuldafn. Of course, I could fly you there, but not while imprisoned here." At the reminder of not having the wings of a dovah, she felt suddenly uncomfortable in her skin. It happened occasionly, like her dragon soul trying to break out of her skin, like it was the wrong vessel.

"Do you expect me to taker your word on that?" She felt another hand on her other shoulder, and whispered words in her ear.

"You can trust him. What would be the point of trapping his if you didn't think he'd tell the truth?" Miraak's words made sense of course. Why shouldn't she believe him? She just didn't want to believe it'd be so easy.

"Ahraan. You would me, Dovahkiin. I may not tell the whole truth but I am no liar. Go see for yourself. I will be here, of course... unless alduin returns before you do." Odahviing was right of course. She didn't have any other option, nor the time to figure something else out. She sighed and put her hands up on Miraak's for a moment before stepping away from him. She signalled for the guards to let up the trap.

"Fine, I'll let you go, as long as you take me to Skuldafn."

"Saraan uth — I await your command, as promised. Are you ready to see the world as only a dovah can? Zok brit uth! I warn you, once you've flown the skies of Keizaal, your envy of the dov will only increase. Amativ! Mu bo kotin stinselok."

Ivrasea turned around to face Miraak. He took his mask off, which startled her a bit. He never much liked taking it off in public. She never quite understood why. The influence of Herma Mora wasn't very obvious anymore, at least not to anyone who wasn't looking for it. She wasn't sure what color his eyes used to be, but now the iris's are a mix of greens and blacks. His sclera is mostly white now, but with a bit of green here and there. He was smiling at her. She didn't quite understand why. She was about to leave him alone again. With no idea if she'd even return.

Miraak noticed the sadness in her expression and grabbed her hands. That was his way of soothing and her and for some reason it usually worked. But not today. There is just too much happening and she just wasn't ready for any of it.

"I'm not ready for this. I barely survive last time I went up against and I had help then. What am I supposed to do against him in the place he's the strongest?" He let go of her hands and instead cupped her face in his hands. She felt a bit more relaxed with him.

"Don't worry so much. You'll be fine. You are so much more powerful than you think." She closed her eyes for a moment and placed her hands over his.

"I hate prophecies," she whispered. Miraak chuckled a bit and she smiled.

"I know." He leaned forward and kissed her. It felt like a last kiss. A goodbye. She had make sure she made it back alive. She didn't want this to be the last for them. He let her go and helped her up on Odahviing.

Putting his mask back on he said to her, "You better defeat him and make it back to me alive." She smiled down at him.

"You know I will."

#tesfest22 #tes #oc: ivrasea #miraak #tesfic #im being nice to ivrasea for now #maybe not so much to miraak tho

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dirty-bosmer · 2 years

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Bad Summaries

Tagged by: @eegplamt (Thank you! It was hard but fun 😭)

The Illusionist Part 1: A young mage’s battle with cognitive dissonance leads to even more denial. And murder...

The Illusionist Part 2: Join our heroine as she gets worse in all ways except those of artful assassination and extremely unethical uses of magic. Lucien Lachance appears when he is least wanted. Cognitive dissonance makes a return... but sexier.

Slither and Writhe: A spoiled rich girl’s adventures in necromancy go horribly right :D

Tagging: @chennnington @justafoxhound @atypicalacademic @dumpsterhipster @glaukobiblion (sorry if you’ve been tagged already. I’m late and annoying)

#tag game #Seyda Writes #The Illusionist #Slither and Writhe #tes #tesfic #Wowowow I am very bad at this 😅#Lucien Lachance

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moriche · 6 months

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Inktober Day Thirty-One: Fire

Fear not. A woman’s voice. One he didn’t recognise. For I am watchful. The smell of ozone permeated the air. Thunder crashed down around him, a stray bolt of lightning forcing him to his knees. It struck the mountain, now eclipsing the sky, and split it in two. Three red eyes blazed in the darkness, judging Veryn, before the mountain erupted to drown him in liquid fire. He screamed without sound as the lava at at his skin and burned out his eyes, engulfing him whole. “Wake up. We’re here.” Coughing, he hacked up mouthfuls of ash and dust, and when he looked up the mountain had disappeared. Instead he knelt within a sea of boiling water. The woman whispered something else, but the sound was overridden by the crashing of the waves. “You’re shaking. Veryn – are you okay? Wake up!” From Fear in a Handful of Dust

India ink and red watercolour on paper, 10,5x14,8 cm

Bonus gif of the drawing process beneath the cut:

1: sketching out the drawing. 2: drawing the actual lines for inking. 3: thin lines with ink, the pencil has been erased. 4: thickening the lines and adding shadow. 5: painting in with thinned ink and red watercolour.

#morichedraws #morichesfic #tes oc #elder scrolls #the elder scrolls #tesart #tes art #tesblr #morrowind #red mountain #nerevarine #tesfic #tes #traditional art #artists on tumblr #inktober #inktober2023 #volcano #art process

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nuwanders · 2 years

Photo

i made this map of skyrim travel times to help with my longfic writing and thought i’d share it here in case anyone else finds it useful!

i’ve also done cyrodiil and solstheim, which you can find here, and morrowind and vvardenfell, which you can find here :)

notes for use under the cut

general / explanatory notes

this is all very approximate, so take everything with a pinch of salt.

everything is calculated on the basis of skyrim being about as wide as poland and as tall as scotland (400 x 280 miles). i thought this was a decent compromise between the teeny-tiny scale in game and keeping things workable for the sake of writing fic -- also it roughly lines up with the in-game claim that mournhold is 250 miles from red mountain.

on this scale, the main quest would take a minimum of one year on foot, assuming the LDB does absolutely every quest immediately after the one before it, with no rest days and without taking breaks for anything else. realistically it would probably take about a year and a half on foot.

distances are also calculated on the assumption that whoever travelling is a fit, experienced traveller (walking about 17 miles a day w/o rest days). the same goes for their horse if travelling by horseback. adjust the speed down if writing about a large party or a party with children/elderly/unfit members. adjust the speed up for military movements or someone in a hurry. and remember to add in the occasional rest day.

notes on proportion/scale

if some distances look disproportionate, it’s bc the base map i used (which was made by gamebanshee) isn’t always accurate to the in-game map (i used UESP’s map as a reference). for example, high hrothgar is a lot closer to ivarstead in-game than it appears to be on this map, which is why it’s still only 3 days despite being at an extreme incline.

because of the larger scale, assume that some distances on this map are skewed. for example: the lakes. for lake honrich and lake ilinalta to be as large as they appear to be on the map, they’d both have to be at least 40 miles / 64 km long, which is MASSIVE for lakes. assume that they’re smaller than they appear to be here.

same goes for any two locations that are clearly meant to be close together, e.g. whiterun and the western watchtower. assume that the watchtower is closer to whiterun than it appears to be on this map (which is about 30 miles -- clearly not very useful for a defensive watchtower).

travel on land

this map only notes the major roads, but there are of course shortcuts in-game which could be used by an experienced traveller.

also note that the most direct route from whiterun up to morthal goes through labyrinthian, so most ordinary travellers would avoid it.

lastly, an attempt was made to take into account terrain, but i’ll admit i probably didn’t factor this in as much as i should have. assume that an unfit or inexperienced traveller would take longer travelling through mountainous or snowy areas (such as the reach) than through the warmer lowlands (such as the rift).

travel by boat

for river travel, assume that all marked routes are traversible by small raft. HOWEVER, for larger vessels, such as trade and/or passenger barges, travel would only be possible from: (a) riften to ivarstead, (b) honningbrew meadery to windhelm, (c) darkwater crossing to windhelm, and (d) karthwasten to solitude. the rivers between markarth and karthwasten, riverwood and honningbrew, and ivarstead and darkwater crossing are too narrow and/or rough to handle large vessels.

also remember that river travel is only possible in one direction (marked on the map).

sea travel can vary MASSIVELY depending on a huge variety of factors, the main one being wind speed and direction. the numbers given here are assuming decent/average conditions, so adjust accordingly.

hope this is helpful! (tumblr ate all the quality unfortunately but dm me if you would like a better quality copy)

#skyrim #tes #the elder scrolls #tesfic #skyrim fic #tes v skyrim #text #mine

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nine-blessed-hero · 9 months

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Greetings After a Long Departure

Universe: TESIV: Oblivion Warnings: None Words: 1014 Context: A gameplay event I remembered, and wanted to write out - see below fic for details Taglist (ask +/-): @writeblrsupport @jacquesfindswritingandadvice

It's been a few years since… Everything. Maybe many. Time has passed and Rowan has stopped counting.

Time enough that when xe teaches the rookies how to shoot, xir shoulder and elbow joints pop. Time enough that xe has become a Master of Alchemy; that xe is expanding xir repertoire and learning how to move in heavy armour.

There is always more to learn, xe tells the apprentice Mages. You never stop honing your skills, xe tells the Fighters Guild hot-shots. There's always someone who can teach you fresh ideas, recent papers to study, some new knack to discover.

Rowan – leading by example – is in the Imperial City proper for the first time in… oh, probably a year? Time enough to notice that the fresh white stone of the Market District, replaced after Everything, is now dull and grey; that the joyful colours splashed around the Arena in his honour are faded and chipped; that the Arboretum is not as deftly pruned as it once was. But xe is not here to critique the architecture. Xe has heard word and whisper of someone even better at the art of stealth than xe and is hoping they are willing to teach xir.

It is to xir horror then, that Armand tells xir xe is looking for the Imperial Spymaster, Marana Rian, found in the Temple District. Rowan who takes the most circuitous route to the Waterfront; Rowan who has not set foot in the Temple District since Everything was over; Rowan who makes airs of not recalling what happened That Night when asked, but will not deign to look in that direction should xe catch sight of a marble toothed maw over the walls.

But perhaps it has been time enough. Time enough for a heart to heal. Time enough xe can think about That Night without frailty overtaking xir limbs. Time enough that xe went back to see him.

Xir foot rings off the cobbles of the Temple District. It's impossible not to see him, life-like twisted marble. Xir heart lurches. A guard looks curiously at xir, as a palid hand gropes for the wall. Xe flashes a sickly smile. Xe almost turns, running back to the safety of hearth and home. But no – it has been time enough. Xe straightens xir tunic and goes forth.

Xe's greeted, as xe enters the Temple, by a fresh-faced novice. No lines of care on their scaled face, only nubs of burgeoning horns ridging their brow. When the novice asks xir business, xe gestures to the statue, feet tucked in with garlands and offerings. The novice clearly doesn't recognise xir, taking xir to be some distant pilgrim, as they jabber about That Night while leading xir towards the statue.

He is bigger than xe remembers. With his wings held aloft and head thrown back, he takes up most of the space in the not-small temple. So tall, once they stop at the edge of the field of offerings, xe barely comes up to his knee. Rowan feels lost, for a moment, craning xir head back as if it were possible, this close, to see all of him; and wonders how xe forgot he was the size of a building.

Xe can touch it if xe wants, the novice says. It's just a statue. Tests were done; it's perfectly safe. From here they can see the shimmer on one claw, worn smooth and shiny by many hands and many prayers. He isn't there. That's what they'd told xir after the tests were concluded. Still – the need to give some recognition to the man transformed gnaws in xir breast.

The novice natters on as Rowan picks a way through the flowers and offerings, but xe doesn't hear, recalling only that last conversation; the way he made it sound as if he were taking a trip – not too far, not too long. Finds xe knows just what to do.

Rowan takes a breath. Smiles. "Hello, you." Reaches out as if to cup his cheek. "Read any good books lately?" Xir fingers skim the statue. A soft and golden sunlight finds xir. Xe feels warm and full; content as if after a hearty meal in the company of loved ones. In xir mind, a noise like the bones of the world sliding past each other; words, perhaps, but they're so slow and bass xe doesn't understand – can only let them resonate through xir being.

Slowly the incandescence fades; the sense of a lingering hug, reluctantly parted from. Xe's left feeling comforted; the grind of everyday lifted and lightened. As if things will start going better for xir, and everyone is a potential new friend.

When Rowan turns, xe finds a small crowd gathered behind xir. The novice is gaping. Several people are in prayerful stances. Xe can hear the word 'miracle' being uttered. "What-? But the- It's never-," the novice stutters, their eyes flaring wide. "Who are you?" Before Rowan can speak, the crowd speaks for xir, calling out xir titles: Fighters Guildmaster, Archmage, Champion– "The Hero of Kvatch!"

Well, shit.

Rowan smiles, picks xir way back through the collection of offerings. "I apologise for having interrupted your afternoon," xe says. "But… the Statue-" Rowan raises xir voice, knowing that the crowd will just make up some half-truth otherwise. "They told me, 'he's gone'. They told me it was just a statue, and the man I watched transform into our saviour was no longer on Mundus. I guess they weren't quite correct." Xe swallows to stop xir voice from cracking and glances back at the statue. "He's still here, in his own way. He's always been here, patient as ever, awaiting my return." Xe turns fully now, damp eyes cast aloft. "I'm sorry, Martin. Time and again, you've waited for me; it's been time enough. I promise I won't be so long again."

Warmth stirs again, a lingering caress, drawing a sweet smile from xir. Rowan presses a small bag of coins into the novice's hand – "To keep up the Temple's good works." – and leaves the congregation to its awed colloquy.

–––

So: I'd somehow missed all the spoilers about the Blessings of Akatosh from the Avatar statue, and when I went to find Marana Rian, many gameplay hours after completing the MQ, I got a sudden rush of nostalgia and went to look at the statue (I, like Rowan, maaay have been avoiding the area a bit. Y'know - MQ was ended, I had no real reason to go back there). Noticing the 'activate' fist, I did so and was pleasantly surprised by the Blessings. I later read a headcanon that this is a gift from Martin, an apology/ "love letter", only given to the Hero and unavailable to anyone else in Cyrodiil, which I really liked the sound of - hence why I've made it clear that to everyone else, it is just a statue; it's not until Rowan returns, that xe learns the truth.

#writing #hero of kvatch #oc rowan #martin septim #TESFic #oblivion fanfiction #oblivion fanfic #tes oblivion #The Elder Scrolls #wandering words

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slusheeduck · 1 year

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Count Only The Happy Hours

PART I: [I][II][III][IV][V][VI][VII] PART 2: [I]

II.

“She certainly is taking her sweet time, isn’t she?”

“Well, she did say two hours.”

“She has three minutes, then.”

The tension from the meeting with Grandmaster Almalexia hadn’t lessened, and her absence thus far had only prompted more unease in the elder mer of their party. Nerevar kept glancing to the door, waiting for a retainer to come and announce their guest. Alandro looked resigned, his thoughts plain as day on his face: See? She’s already overwhelmed. Voryn, meanwhile, was keeping rigid time as he drummed sharp nails against the wood of the table.

Sil, though, couldn’t be less bothered. He’d procured some manner of clockwork mechanism to fiddle with, and he seemed quite content to let Almalexia take as long as she liked if it meant not having to talk.

Naturally, it fell to Vivec to find a solution.

“Well! No sense sitting here in silence,” he said brightly. He ushered a retainer over, whispering to him. A moment later, the young mer darted off, only to return a few minutes later (just about three minutes, given Voryn’s huff toward the door) with a lute. Vivec gave the retainer a warm thanks, but before he could do anything else, a groan rose from around the table.

“What?”

“We’re already stuck here, we don’t need your yowling accompaniment, Vivec,” Voryn growled, to which Alandro nodded vehemently in agreement.

“Yowling?” Vivec looked to Nerevar, who winced.

“It…you are still learning, Vehk,” he said, diplomatic as ever.

Vivec set a hand on his chest, looking over at Sil. He didn’t look up, but there was something much more pointed now in his focus on his work. Vehk puffed.

“Well. If my talents won’t be appreciated here, then I will simply need to go elsewhere,” he says.

“Elsweyr may not be far enough,” Alandro muttered under his breath. (It was a hard task to stay huffy after that fun bit of wordplay, admittedly.)

With a particularly vain-sounding humph!, Vivec made his way out of the room. He kept his chin up in a particularly wounded fashion all the way out of the building and to the city gate. Then, he dropped the act.

Of course he knew he wasn’t any good with a lute–he had ears, after all. But he had a feeling that there was something more than simple tardiness keeping the grandmaster from meeting them; yes, he’d only seen her for a brief moment, but he had a feeling she wasn’t the type to miss an appointment for vanity or absentmindedness. And if anyone would be able to uncover the true reason for her absence, no one could do it as non-threateningly as him.

He casually made a show of tuning his lute as he made his way toward the Indoril camp, and his suspicions were confirmed when he caught sight of a harried-looking blonde chamberlain coming toward him. Oh, what was her name? He was usually quite good with…ah!

“Hlareni!” he greeted brightly, catching her attention. She came to a stop, looking for the source of her name, then froze as she saw him.

“Oh! Oh, er, Councilor Vi-Vivec?” When he nodded, she let out a relieved breath before stiffly clasping a hand over her heart and bowing. “I am so sorry for the delay, Councilor. I…well, I was just on my way…we hope the Hortator and the rest of the council isn’t…that is…” She looked up as she noticed he was still tuning. “...you, ah…you’re playing the lute? Now?”

“Yes, but not very well,” he said breezily. “At least, not yet. Give me a few years, and I’ll be a master at it.” He plucked a few strings, then looked up at Hlareni; the confusion seemed to have stifled some of her nerves. Good. “Is the grandmaster all right?”

“What? Oh! Yes, yes, she’s…she’s quite fine, in good spirits, she just…” Hlareni bit down on her thumbnail. “Can I…tell you something? But it must stay between us.”

Vivec paused in his plucking. “Of course, serjo.”

Hlareni glanced over his shoulder at the gate, then back over her own at the Indoril camp. She shifted back and forth before she looked back to Vivec. “Almalexia is…nervous.” Before Vivec could comment, she continued, the admission apparently releasing a torrent of thoughts, “And the thing is, she’s not used to being nervous. She’s a very good leader! The things she’s done for House Indoril in the Mourning Hold have been wonderful; people are even starting to say she’s doing better than her father, Oblivion keep him, but…I mean, it’s been her dream since you all have started your liberation of Resdayn to join you and…and I think it’s sort of…you know, hitting her that this is real.”

Vivec kept his face very neutral, but his mind was spinning. Did that mean Alandro was right? Was she going to pack up shop and leave it to them?

Hlareni chewed on her thumbnail again, shifting her weight back and forth. “Could you…I mean, I know we’re already late and that it’s going to be difficult to smooth over, but could…could you talk to her?”

“Me?”

“Yes!” She looked up at him, eyes wide. “I can’t begin to tell you how much she’s enjoyed your accounts of the battles. So I…well, I mean, obviously she has huge amounts of respect for everyone on the council–especially the Hortator–but I…I think you might be…I think she might trust you more.” Hlareni froze up again. “Unless! You…you don’t want to. Oh, by the Three, I don’t want you thinking we need babysitting. I just…” She wheezed out a breath as Vehk held up his hand.

“I would be honored to speak with Grandmaster Almalexia,” he said. “Though I’m curious why you think I would be more qualified than Nerevar. I won’t deny my stories are good, but they are, in the end, simply stories.”

Hlareni’s thumbnail had found its way back to her teeth. “Are they not true?”

“Of course they’re true. But I’m only the narrator.”

Hlareni nodded. “I…well. Since you started recording Nerevar’s efforts to free Resdayn, she’s hung on every word. While the Hortator is…incredible, and she respects him so much…well, that’s the problem. She respects him too much.”

Vivec’s lips turned up. “So she doesn’t respect me?”

“No!” Hlareni covered her now very red face, and Vivec laughed. She peeked through her hands, then let out a beleaguered breath. “I…what I mean is…with the way you write, and how long she’s been reading, she…might see you like a friend. Sort of.” She covered her whole face again. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I…”

“Hlareni.” Vivec held up a hand. “I am humbled that the Grandmaster would think of me so fondly, and as I said before, honored to speak with her.” He gave her a wide smile. “Point me toward her quarters, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Hlareni peeked out from behind her hands, then let out an explosive breath of relief. “Yes, I…I…thank you, muthsera. I…I��ll…I’ll go to the council right away a-and explain…” She trailed off as Vivec shook his head. “No, no, you know what you simply must do, Hlareni? It’s very, very important,” he said, looking directly into her eyes. “Do a check around the perimeter, make sure everything is in line. After all, the Grandmaster has been caught up with some unruly soldiers, hasn’t she?” He kept his gaze on her, eyebrows raising to see if she caught on. It took a moment, but her honey-colored eyes widened.

“Yes…yes, of course,” she said, bouncing her head in a half-bow. “Yes, I will…I will go walk the perimeter. Again, thank you, muthsera.” She gave him a grateful look, then quickly went to walk the perimeter–with any luck, she’d be a little less frantic by the time she returned. In the meantime, there was the Grandmaster to take care of.

Even without Hlareni pointing out the main tent, it was clear which one he’d find Almalexia in. It was large, in the peculiar shade of blue Indoril was known for, and the curtains at the entrance were emblazoned with golden wings.

Vivec approached it quietly, then slipped inside–he may not be a scout these days, but he could still move as silently as one when need be. So he stood by the entryway, hardly breathing, as Grandmaster Almalexia paced the length of the tent, too caught up in her thoughts to notice him. She still wore her armor, but a few strands of copper hair had escaped her tight braid. But more shockingly, the sharp poise that had been so striking just a few hours before was gone, replaced with doubt that softened her face and creased her smooth brow.

Oh, she looked so very nervous, and so very, very young.

Vivec stayed put for a moment, silently editing his plan, then he stepped back out. A moment later, he burst in, feigning breathlessness.

“Oh, thank the Three for you, Grandmaster,” he said, managing to stifle a smile. “I heard about the fight.”

Almalexia blinked. “The…fight?”

Vivec nodded emphatically. “Yes! Between one of your soldiers and one of ours–a Dwemer, as I understand,” he said, too quickly for her to argue. “But you were able to intervene before they came to blows–what diplomacy! And done so quickly.” He rested his hand over his heart, head bowed. “What an honor it is to have someone so capable joining us. I can’t wait to tell the council—I know Nerevar will be deeply impressed.”

His eyes flicked up to look at her, an unspoken question of whether she knew what he was doing. For a moment, she simply stared back at him. Then, ever so subtly, her golden eyes brightened, and she stood up straight, chin lifted and queenly bearing returned.

“Yes, well. As much as I regret keeping you all, I-I’m afraid I had no choice but to put our soldiers first. It’s…they’re the…”

“The lifeblood of our cause, yes!” Vehk stood up straight, giving her a wide smile. “I promise, no one will be upset with you for doing so. Would you allow me the honor of escorting you to the council? I hope you don’t mind–I need to be getting back there myself, after all.”

Almalexia’s queenly bearing faltered, just a bit, in confusion. “You weren’t sent to fetch me?”

“Oh, of course not! No, you see…” He held up his lute. “...I’ve been rudely ousted from the meeting room because my passions are unappreciated.” He slung it over his shoulder. “But it’s just as well. Let’s go back to the council together.”

Almalexia agreed, and after picking up a small parcel, she followed Vivec back out of her tent. Several soldiers paused to salute her, but her golden eyes were focused forward, expression savage and shoulders high and tight. Vivec glanced over her in silence for a moment, then did what he did best: chatter.

“Now, I’ll admit, I haven’t been as descriptive about our council in my writings,” he said. “Nerevar, of course, you probably know intimately by now, but while he’s our shining beacon, he’s far from the only one working to free Resdayn. Given your choice in apparel, you’ll likely be working very closely with Alandro Sul, the Immortal Son of Azura–no, I don’t know if he’s literally immortal; after the better part of a decade of my asking him, he still hasn’t confirmed or denied it to me. But he’s no-nonsense and practical to a fault. Oh, don’t take that as my disliking him. He’s a brilliant tactician, and he’s saved all of us more times than I’d be able to write about. If you charm him–and, I think, you will–he’ll be as loyal as anyone could want. Then, of course, there’s Voryn…”

“The High Councilor of House Dagoth, I recall,” Almalexia murmured, distaste clear on her tongue. “I imagine he fancies himself a puppet master?”

That caught Vivec off-guard, and he paused. “What do you mean, muthsera?”

Almalexia crossed her arms, expression still hard. “House Dagoth deals in shadows. Some say that they’re descended from Mephala herself. That’s ridiculous, of course, but it is true that the whole house will whisper sweetly in your ear while stabbing you in the back.” She glanced to Vivec, pausing. “So I’ll admit, I’ve wondered what cause their High Councilor has being among you. Even moreso considering that the Hortator is an Indoriil.”

“Well, not by birth. He’s an outlander,” Vivec said with a shrug. Almalexia gaped.

“An outlander?”

“Yes. From what he’s told me–and I trust Neht implicitly–he’s from a merchant family on the mainland, somewhere out in Nibenay.” Vivec shrugged. “I don’t know the whole story–you’ll find that Nerevar is very much a here-and-now kind of mer–but my best guess is that he came back out to his motherland to escape the Alessian Order mess happening in Cyrodiil.”

“But you’ve never said that in your accounts,” Almalexia said, a slight frown starting on her lips.

“Of course not. I’m trying to get all of Resdayn behind him–those of us who’ve met him know that he’s Azura-blessed and Veloth’s heir, but convincing others that they should trust an outlander with their freedom?” Vivec clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Not likely.”

Almalexia’s frown deepened–whether it was being in the dark of Nerevar’s outlander origins or offense that Vivec thought she wouldn’t support an outlander, he wasn’t sure. But he quickly resumed their walk, chattering again.

“Then, of course, there’s Sotha Sil. He’s the very, very tall mer, with silver in his eyes and hair–funny, really, considering how fond he is of bronze. He’s threatening to put Dumac’s head architect out of business by the time he’s of age next year. Did you read the account I wrote six months ago, where I mentioned that he’s the reason we won the battle out by the stoneforest? He made these jumping spiders–saved us so many casualties–and they took out the whole Nord army.” Vivec smiled. “I’m very lucky to be able to call him my brother.”

Almalexia looked at him curiously. “So you’re…House Sotha as well?”

“Me? Oh, no. No, no, we’re brothers by choice, not by circumstance.” He smiled. “I was born from a simulacrum.”

“A…what?”

“A facsimile, an automaton. You see, I hatched from a dreugh egg; that’s hardly the sort of thing a chimer could carry. But the dwemer were very kind, and very interested in me, so they created…” He trailed off, squinting at nothing in particular. “No, actually. No, that’s not quite right. I’ll have to go back to it.”

Almalexia stared at him. “Go back to your birth?”

“Well, yes. I haven’t found the exact way I was born yet, but I will with enough editing.”

The grandmaster stared at him in silence for a moment. Then, suddenly, she did something wonderful.

She laughed.

“Is everything a story to you?” she asked, still smiling. There was no sting in the question, just pure amusement making the gold of her eyes sparkle. For a moment, Vivec was silent, gaze traveling over her face in equal amusement.

“Of course,” he finally said, a slow smile growing on his face. “What is existence but the grandest story we have? I just have the forethought to edit.”

“Alma!”

They both turned to see Hlareni, the poor thing, running over to them. She bent over double as she reached them, hands on her knees and curls a mess as she caught her breath.

“I…sorry, I…I was doing a round a-and…”

“My suggestion,” Vivec interjected. “I’m very, very sorry to have made you run, sera.”

Hlareni shook her head, taking a breath before she stood up straight. “I…it’s fine. Alma…always says it’s good for me.”

“Well, it is,” Almalexia said with a shrug. Hlareni shot her a look, and Almalexia smiled–clearly in a much better mood than when she’d left. She lead the way toward the gate, and Hlareni glanced to Vivec.

“You work fast,” she whispered as they trailed behind the grandmaster. “It takes me hours to talk her down when she gets too caught up in her head. How did you do it?”

Vivec gave Hlareni a little wink. “Amazing, what a bit of storytelling can do.”

They made their grand entrance, and Almalexia graciously apologized for the delay; one of her soldiers had gotten into it with a Dwemer mercenary, and she’d had to take care of it. Vivec added that he’d caught the tail end of it; it was impressive, really, how she managed to talk both sides down before it could come to blows. She glanced at him, smiling just enough to share a secret, then got to business.

And it probably was terribly important business, but Vehk simply could not focus on the actual words she was saying.

He was entranced as she spoke, at the way she commanded the attention of everyone in the room–even Voryn, reluctant as he looked. She stood tall and imposing, golden skin and eyes blazing in the low candlelight of the room. At some point, she presented a gift to Nerevar–on behalf of all of House Indoril, of course–of a beautiful pair of moon and star earrings, thus cementing his position as the Azura-blessed Hortator of Resdayn.

Almalexia’s words, he realized as Nerevar thanked her, weren’t important. Well, they weren’t unimportant, of course, but that wasn’t what commanded his interest. There were stories upon stories in her face, in her posture, in the cant of her head and the flame-colored braid down her back.

It’s not until a paper slid in front of him that Vivec was forcibly brought back to Nirn.

“I took notes for you.”

Vivec blinked, as if waking from a dream, and looked to Sil. “You what?”

“You were daydreaming. I took notes.” Sil sat back in his seat, crossing his arms. “Not as flowery as you would be, but I’m certain you’ll be able to embellish.”

Vivec blinked a few times. “Was I that obvious?”

Sil’s pale eyes flicked up to him, and his eyebrows rose. “You’re always obvious. But usually it’s during animunculi talks–”

“By the Three, we need a better term for those.”

“–or when Voryn gets into it about other Houses. This seemed like the kind of meeting you’ll want to write about.”

Vivec grinned. “I have the kindest brother in Tamriel,” he said, looking over the notes. Oh, but they were dry…then again, he should expect as much from Sil. His eyes rose to look over Almalexia again, watching as she chatted with Alandro. Her face was as bright and eager as the average, star-struck recruit as he recounted the strategy of their most recent battle, a world of difference from the cool, poised Grandmaster that had just spoken, and another world away from the nervous young woman he’d seen hardly an hour ago.

“What do you think of the Grandmaster, Seht?” he asked, sitting back in his seat. Sil shrugged, already returning to his fiddling.

“She’s fine.”

“Fine? Just…fine?”

Sil looked to Vivec, frowning. “Well, what do you want me to say?”

Vehk started to answer, then stopped. What did he want Seht to say? Well, he wanted validation that she was compelling and spellbinding. That someone else saw the spark of life in her. Which, of course, was asking a lot, especially from Sil of all people.

Hm.

Finally, Vivec shook his head. “I want you to say nothing else,” he said, giving Sil a smile. “But I think she’ll be good to have around–her chamberlain, too. Azura knows you need some people your age around here. I worry that you’re only going to be able to talk to machines soon, hla’daesohn.”

Sil rolled his eyes, picking up his clockwork mechanism before he pushed himself up to his feet. “I’m going.”

“To your machines? To prove my point?”

“To Neht, Vivec.” He paused, spindly fingers drumming on the back of his seat. “Did you know he was going to make me an advisor?”

Vivec’s eyebrows rose. “Officially? No, he never told me. But I could see it coming.”

“You could?”

“Of course. You’re our greatest source on mechanical beasties outside of Dumac’s architects. And Nerevar likes rewarding specialties.” He tilted his head. “Even if it sometimes takes the better part of a decade.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He sent Sil a warm smile. “You’ve earned this, kena. I know the gears in that fair head of yours never stop turning, but try your best not to overthink it.”

Seht sent him an incredibly dubious look, then made his way over to Nerevar. As the boy approached, Neht’s eyes were on Almalexia as she and Alandro kept chatting, an unreadable look on his face as he clutched the earrings. He looked genuinely startled as Sil got his attention, and as Seht was no doubt laying out his concerns and questions about his new role, Nerevar’s gaze kept darting back to Almalexia.

Hm.

Vivec shook his head, finally picking up Sil’s notes to go over them and start editing and embellishing. This, after all, was a monumental day in Resdayn’s history, and the Chimer needed to know about the formal alliance of House Indoril’s forces with the rebels under the Hortator’s command.

And, perhaps, he could sneak in a few lines about the poised girl-queen that led them. Then, like with Nerevar, maybe the rest of Resdayn could see Almalexia the way he did.

#tesfic #tribunal #vivec #sotha sil #almalexia #nerevar #voryn dagoth #dagoth ur #alandro sul #fanfic #elder scrolls #morrowind

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