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Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 30 2013, 06:15 PM

A/N: Hello all. This is a story I began writing for NaNoWriMo in 2011. Now that Julian has finished telling her story, Cora is impatient to take her turn. So without further ado, I will allow her to introduce herself and begin her story. Hopefully it won't be as long in the telling as Julian's. It is not as epic, nor does it have sweeping consequences, but as I see it, without Cora we would not have Julian's story at all.

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Chapter One

“Milady!” The lean form darted through the tall panels, the storm following hard on his heels. The doorkeepers struggled to close the doors against the pelting rain. For a moment, I could not see the courier’s face against the lightning flashes that limned his figure.

Finally he halted before me, bedraggled and breathless. Rain dripped from his sodden clothes, and plastered his black hair to his forehead. As my vision readjusted to the torches that lit the main hall of the donjon, I could recognize the young man. I stepped away from my comfortable chair and nodded at Jannet, who turned and disappeared in the direction of the kitchens.

“Please sit down, Tavish,” I took the courier’s cloak and removed it from his shoulders. He reached for it reflexively, but I shook my head at him as Siné took the fabric from me and draped it near the fire to dry. I led him to my chair. He resisted briefly, but exhaustion enforced my quiet command, and he fell onto the soft cushion with a groan.

“I h- have n- news,” he met my gaze as I picked up the wine flagon and poured the mulled liquid into my goblet. I handed it to him with forced calmness. Around us gathered the thistlemen who had remained behind to defend the donjon, and those of our crofters who sought refuge from the oncoming winter in our snug shelter.

“I’m sure you do,” I answered quietly, gesturing for him to drink. “But partake of the wine first. You are shivering so much all of us can hear your teeth chattering!”

Jannet returned with more of the heated wine and warm blankets. She set the flagon down on the warming table beside the fire and turned to wrap the dry wool around Tavish’s shaking shoulders. He gulped at the goblet gratefully and snuggled deeper into the blankets before speaking again.

“Milord is at the Bluestone Tower,” the courier cradled the wine in both hands, seeking to warm his fingers against its heat. “The Colovian forces are there.”

“Who arrived first?” Robert Whitearm, the burly castellan, shouldered his way through the growing crowd to take his place at my right shoulder.

“Milord did,” Tavish responded. “But before he could take the high ground across the river, the Legions arrived. They possess the bluffs.”

I could see the dismay in Robert’s stony face as he absorbed the implications. From my own studies in milord’s library, I understood that Wallace had just lost the first battle. It would be far more difficult to take on the foe from downhill.

“How many are there?” Robert continued his line of questioning after a moment. Tavish met his gaze unhappily.

“There were three thousand there when I left,” he muttered into his wine. “Five cohorts worth. With more on the way.”

“Damnation!” Robert’s barely suppressed explosion lifted his heavy mustache away from his lips. I shook my head warningly at him. He fell silent, grumbling to himself like a cranky bear roused too early from his winter sleep.

“How are milord’s men?” I turned back to Tavish. He smiled bravely at me.

“They are in good spirits, m’lady,” he lifted the goblet at me. “The stores are full with provisions and arms, and their blades are keen.”

“Does milord require anything from us?” He shook my head at my question.

“M’lord asks that you see to the donjon.” His gaze shifted to Robert. “keep the men alert, and the crofters safe. Winter comes, and promises to be harsh this year.”

“Thank you, Tavish,” I murmured, then turned to Robert. “Please send the patrol out one more time, to try and bring in the rest of the crofters. Things will be very hard for them this winter.”

“You know how they don’t want to leave their livestock,” Robert began. I drew myself up to my fullest height, though the top of my head still fell short of his broad shoulders.

“Then we must find room for all their livestock within the bailey,” I answered. “With so many men away, it’s the only way to keep them safe with the limited manpower we have.”

“Yes, m’lady,” Robert inclined his head in gruff acquiescence. He turned and stalked through the throng, shouting over their gathered heads for his lieutenant. I searched the surrounding faces. A lean man with a hatchet face stepped forward and bowed to me.

“Niall,” I said to the steward, “please see Tavish settled into the thistlemen’s dormitory. Get those wet clothes off of him before he catches bloodlung. And feed him something hot and filling before he falls asleep.”

“As you will, milady,” Niall inclined his upper body again and motioned for Tavish to follow him.

“No,” Tavish rose unsteadily to his feet. “I have a message for m’lady’s ears only.” He turned to me. “Please let me say it before you send me away.”

“Then we will go to milord’s study,” I turned toward the stair set into the wall at the north side of the donjon. “Niall, Jannet, with us please.” I caught the breath of protest the young courier drew and shook my head at him. “Come,” I waved him ahead. He moved forward and fell in behind me obediently.

Wallace’s study sat on the second floor, at the south wall of the donjon. When we reached the entrance, I waved Tavish through, and paused in the doorway. “Niall, Jannet, wait out here. I’ll not keep you long.” They nodded their acquiescence and I closed the door before them.

In the center of the book lined room, Tavish turned uneasily toward me. “This is a message from milord,” he spoke quietly. I stepped forward so we were mere inches apart.

“Tell me.” I said softly.

“Milord says to make the donjon ready to receive wounded,” Tavish’s blue eyes grew unfocused as he recalled Wallace’s exact words. “He expects massive casualties at the blades of the Legions.”

“Does he still expect to defeat the Colovians?” I asked. Tavish looked down at me. Not quite as tall as Sir Robert, he still had height on me, as did most of the residents of Cardonaccum. “Tell me the truth,” I demanded softly.

“Yes, m’lady,” Tavish answered. “Though Sir Laird and Sir Rodric do not agree. Sir Broc sides with milord.”

Of course he would. I kept my initial response silent. “How soon?”

“As soon as their General brings up the rest of his Legions,” Tavish responded. “Milord expects tomorrow or the day after.”

So soon? I hid my dismay and nodded thoughtfully. “Anything else, Tavish?”

“That is all,” the courier ducked his head and swayed slightly. “Milord said you would understand.”

“Thank you, Tavish,” I returned to the corridor door and opened it. “Niall will see you settled for the night. Sleep well.”

“Milady,” Tavish bowed deeply to me. For a breath’s space I feared that he would pitch forward onto his face, but he recovered his balance and shuffled to the door and the waiting steward beyond. After the young man departed, I crossed the corridor to the sleeping quarters I shared with Wallace. Jannet followed me into the sitting room and closed the door behind her.

“I will make it an early night,” I said, turning for the connecting door that led to my sleeping room. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

Jannet banked the sitting-room fire and tidied up the reading table while I changed into my nightdress. She peeked into the sleeping room as I pulled the bedcovers back. “Will milady be needing anything else?”

I shook my head at the older woman. “No, thanks very much. Sleep well, Jannet.”

“You as well, milady.” She closed the door after her, and I listened to her footfalls as she crossed the sitting room to her sleeping alcove at the opposite side.

I slipped into the bed and drew up the thick pelts over my lap. Leaning back against the stead, I picked up the book resting on my nightstand. One of Wallace’s volumes, it detailed the attempts of King Vrage of Skyrim to free the Bretons of High Rock from their supposed enslavement. As I opened it to the place marked by a dark green ribbon, something landed on my feet. I looked up as the big black-striped brown moggy padded along my legs to settle beside my right hip. She curled up contentedly and began purring squeakily.

I smiled at her attitude and reached my hand down to stroke the soft fur of her back. The purring rose to thunderous proportions, and she adjusted her position slightly for better gratification. “Cinnie, let me read a bit,” I whispered to the cat. Then I returned to the book. Crossing the River Bjoulsae. I had read it once before, when I married Wallace ten years ago. I had found it difficult to understand then. Not so much now, thanks to my husband’s guidance.

“What are you doing here, Cora?” Wallace’s gentle voice reached me from the doorway of his study. I jumped guiltily and clutched the heavy book to my bosom, afraid of dropping it. The sun shone warm on my back as I turned away from the window to face him. Instead of the wrath I expected to see, his weathered face held only surprise.

“I- I was c- curious,” I stammered, bowing my head in shame. “Forgive me, milord.” I moved to return the book to its place among its brethren on one of the library shelves. In a long stride Wallace placed his sword hand on my wrist, the calluses of its palm hard against my skin.

He plucked the book from my hands and glanced at the cover. “Crossing the River Bjoulsae?” He turned to me. “Look at me, Cora.” Hesitantly I obeyed, looking up into his lean visage. “Why are you reading a military history book? My first wife’s romances are over there.” He gestured to the opposite side of the room. I flinched at the reminder of my predecessor.

“Th- they’re n- not in- interesting.” I managed to get the words out. His grey brows rose, startled.

“Not interesting?” he repeated disbelievingly. “And this is?” He hefted the thick volume and regarded me thoughtfully. Silently I nodded. “Do you understand any of it?”

I had to shake my head. “I- it’s not e- easy, milord.”

He touched my lips. “It’s just the two of us, Cora. You don’t need to address me so formally.”

Again I lowered my eyes. “Yes, mi - Wallace.”

My husband set the book back on the shelf with greater ease than I had in obtaining it from its high perch. “Come, sit down a moment, Cora.” He drew me to one of a pair of leather upholstered chairs placed near the fireplace. “Why do you want to learn military history and tactics?”

I looked up at him as I took the indicated chair. He met my gaze when he had seated himself in the twin. When I didn’t answer, his brows rose. I found myself still fascinated by them. Wonderfully expressive they were, as were his stormy grey eyes. For all that he was so much older than me, by a good thirty years, Wallace was still clean-jointed, still limber and trim after years of fighting and training. Once again I saw the sadness in his gaze, the sadness that never left. Once again I renewed my private vow to dispel that private grief.

“When I sit with you and your men at dinner,” I made myself speak slowly. I didn’t stammer, and felt proud. “I want to be able to understand your conversation.”

He leaned back, his eyes steady on me. “Really? Even when their wives discuss things with you?”

I shook my head. “Talk of spinning and dyeing wool, of crocheting, of pickling and salting food for the winter doesn’t interest me.”

“They should,” he shook a callused finger chidingly at me. “The work of women are just as important as that of men. More so, even. For without their hard work, we’d be too hungry and too cold to fight!”

“And without men who know how to fight, there’d be no women to feed and clothe them!” I countered with some heat before I caught myself. My eyes sought the fire. “I’m sorry, mil - Wallace.”

“Don’t be,” Wallace’s tone turned gentle again. “Cora, are you truly interested in our conversations over dinner?”

I peeked warily at him. Unlike my guardian, who had scorned and ridiculed my interest in military tactics, Wallace seemed genuinely accepting. I nodded.

“Very well,” he set his hands on the arms of his chair. The leather-covered wood frame creaked as he pushed himself to his feet. “Then it would be wise to begin with this,” he moved back to his collection of military books and ran his finger along their spines. Finding the one he sought, he pulled it out. “This book is the first book I ever read. It will explain the basics you need to understand everything else, including Bjoulsae.” He tapped my ambitious selection with a knuckle, then returned to the hearth with the slimmer volume. “Start with this one, and work your way up to that one. We’ll talk about it some more after you finish reading it. Understood?”

I looked at the cover of the book he handed me. Art of War. Breathlessly, I looked up at him. He smiled, that sadness not quite disappearing, and waited for my answer. “Yes, I understand, Wallace,” I managed to whisper. He touched my cheek with his fingertips before turning and leaving me alone in his study.

“Yes, I understand, Wallace,” I whispered as my eyes refocused on the book in my lap. Cinnie picked her head up at the sound of my voice and yawned, before shifting back into sleep.

Posted by: McBadgere Jun 30 2013, 06:24 PM

Brilliant!!...Love it already... ...

So much - too much - to quote all of what I loved, but the bit with the cat made me smile, as did the rememberance of Wallace's words...Excellent characters, yet again...

A brilliant start to what's sure to be a brilliant new story...Fanatstic!!...

Nice one!!..

*Applauds heartily*...

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 30 2013, 08:50 PM

Hello to Cora, Cinnie, and (William) Wallace! Your start is filled with impending dooms. Not just the doom of battle hanging over her husband (facing a foe on the high ground), but also the doom of a hard winter, and a people left unprotected.

Then in the second part we learn something personal about Cora, and her much older husband. She is not in an enviable position, being married to a much older and more experienced man. Let alone being wife #2, and having to make her own place in Wallace's heart after someone else has already staked her claim upon it. Even a ghost is not easy to compete with. Sometimes even harder.

Posted by: Acadian Jun 30 2013, 10:36 PM

Congrats on starting a new story!

I see that Cora possesses a nature that is both humble and nurturing, while at the same time commanding. The situation her husband and his knights face seems grave indeed. Nice flashback to help shed some light on Cora’s early days of marriage and show us that she has grown and adjusted a great deal in the past ten years.

Posted by: ThatSkyrimGuy Jul 1 2013, 03:35 AM

This is great! Not just the story, but the fact that I have been able to start two brand new stories this week, by two writers that have already graced this forum with epic works! I am not too proud to admit that I had to look up definitions for donjon, crofter, castellan...and thistlemen (which was the only word that was fruitless at dictionary.com, so I still don't know), but that's fine. Nothing wrong with learning something in the process. This looks like it will be a very enjoyable read and I am looking forward to more! Great stuff!

Posted by: King Coin Jul 2 2013, 05:59 AM

For some reason when the kitty jumped on Cora, I was expecting something dangerous. Sharing a bed with a kitty is much better and very cozy.

I think the knowledge in those tomes will become important to her shortly. I do not know much of the lore before Oblivion and Skyrim, but this must be before the Empire took the entirety of Cyrodiil.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jul 7 2013, 06:18 PM

@McB: Thanks for your warm welcome for my newest character, Lady Cora. I rather suspected you would like this story. There's more to like coming up!

@Sage Rose: Dooms indeed! There will be more coming. I wanted to show the typical life led by the wife of a minor noble. Only in my eyes, both Lady Cora and Lord Wallace are not typical, and their relationship is something special. She is very fortunate in this marriage. We will see more of the previous's wife's lingering ghost in this newest chapter.

@Acadian: Yes, Lady Cora has grown tremendously in the ten years of her marriage. Lord Wallace played no small part in that. I hope to show more of just how special their relationship is in upcoming parts. I think you hit the nail in your description of Cora's nature - a hint of the complexity that she is.

@TheSkyMan: Welcome! I hear you about trying to read already established stories - it's something I reserve for "empty" days, which unfortunately are currently few and far between. Sorry that I had to make you look things up - I wanted to create a medieval feel for this story, and went searching for terms I could use instead of "castle" and "keep." I preferred to use "crofter" in place of "serf" as I see the relationship of this Lord and Lady with their land being more of a lord-tenant relationship rather than a master-slave setup. As for "thistlemen," that was something I changed (after I initially posted the first chapter - sorry McB and Rosa!) - in reviewing what I had written so far, I found that I had started using the term in place of "guards" or "men-at-arms." I liked the sound of "thistlemen" considering that the emblem of Cardonaccum is the humble thistle. Thanks for your words of praise - I hope you continue to read and enjoy this story!

@KC: I'm glad you're not the only one that enjoyed the interaction with the kitty. Cinnie is one of those characters that insist on her share of the text. It seems I cannot write one single novel without some animal butting in and taking over the keyboard. And yes, you're right - the military history books Lady Cora's been studying are invaluable to her. We'll see just how right your guess is about the timing of this story.

In the first chapter we met Lady Cora, the wife of a Lord who has gone off to battle with Colovians. Now in this chapter we learn a little more of her background and nature. I want to take a moment right now and send out a shout to two people who helped me begin this story two years ago. Destri Melarg and his Interregnum for getting me interested in the Lore, and Olen for his help in world building for this story. I hope they are finding the time to read this story too!

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Chapter Two

“That’s that for the salt,” Jannet declared, closing the door on the cellar room. “It should be enough for everyone through the winter months.”

I checked another item from the list. “That’s good, because we may not get more until the spring.”

“Aye, that’s true enough, milady,” Jannet nodded emphatically as we made our way through the storerooms. “Though we are short on salted beef and mutton.”

“If Robert can convince the remaining crofters to come here with their livestock,” I mused thoughtfully, “that might solve that problem.”

Jannet slid me a sidelong look. “As long as we don’t kill off all their kine,” she reminded me. “They need those animals for their income.”

I agreed silently. Jannet regarded me a moment more, then turned into the last storeroom, where we kept the wine. There we encountered Niall, the steward. He bowed to me and greeted Jannet with a wordless nod.

“How do you find the wine stores, Niall?” I looked around at the wine casks.

“One of them,” he pointed at an oaken barrel upended over the drain in the floor, “went bad. The rest are fine.”

I could smell the sharp odor of vinegar, mixed with the sickly scent of mold. “I see. No point in using that one for pickling vegetables.”

Niall shook his head. “Not unless you want to poison everyone.”

I snapped my fingers. “Could have made some to send up as a gift to that Colovian general!” Niall’s lips twitched and he looked away. I sighed at yet another failure to make him laugh or even crack his imperturbable exterior. “Thank you very much, Niall.” A glance at the ledger showed that we were finished. I closed the volume and handed it to Jannet. “Thank you too, Jannet.” She bobbed quickly as I turned for the stairs leading out to the courtyard of the donjon.

Older than Wallace, Jannet had been his first wife’s maid, and her mother’s maid before that. She was intimately familiar with Wallace’s holding, with every nook and cranny of the old donjon. She had frightened me ten years ago, when I first came to Cardonaccum as a nervous bride of eighteen. Her wrinkled, worn face, those canny eyes that missed little, and her curt manner did little to set me at ease. I had refused her aid as lady’s maid, fearful of being compared to her previous charge, the Lady Elspeth. Described as tall, willowy and beautiful with a fall of golden hair that shimmered at night and by day, Wallace’s first wife was the total opposite of me. How could Jannet find anything to approve of in me?

“Milady,” Jannet bustled up to me as I was sipping my breakfast tea. “How do you want dinner prepared?”

I looked up at her blankly. “Dinner?” I had just eaten breakfast! “Wh- whatever y- you have in st- stock,” my stammer chose that moment to re-emerge. I hid my shame behind the clay goblet.

Jannet crossed her arms over her ample breasts and gazed at me with a forbidding cast to her gnarled features. “You are the Lady,” her tone turned strict. “It is your duty to assign tasks to your cook, steward and housekeeper here.”

“Y- you have been d- doing th- this for m- much longer th- than I,” I began, but Jannet plucked the goblet out of my hand and set it down firmly on the table.

“Milady, come with me.” It was an implicit command. Meekly I rose from the table and moved to follow her. Jannet led me outside, through the courtyard, and down into the cellar. She paused only long enough to pluck a burning torch from the wall beside the wooden door that gaped open on this warm summer day.

As we entered the warren that formed the storerooms of Cardonaccum, Jannet fished out the heavy ring of keys and handed them to me. “As Lord Wallace’s wife, you are expected to know what stores we have put away, how much of each and how to obtain more,” she began speaking in that highland burr I found incomprehensible at times. Over the next two hours she took me through each underground chamber, pointing out every barrel, sack, and container, explaining their uses, their origins, and how quickly we could expect to consume them. She made me repeat the information after her room by room.

Then she led me up to the kitchen, where she called to the stout woman elbow deep in dough. “Machara! Milady has instructions for you.”

The cook, nearly as wide as she was tall, turned to face me. I could see the Nordic features in her flushed face as she blew a stray lock of faded blond hair from her face.

“What is it?” Machara’s pale blue eyes flickered over me with something approaching contempt.

I glanced nervously at Jannet, who said nothing. Somehow I found the courage to rise to my station. “Mi- milord would like a c- cold salad and gr- grilled beef t- tonight.”

“And how would milord like the salad dressed and the beef seasoned?” Machara demanded. My mind blanked. The cook huffed and pushed that stray lock impatiently back with a flour-coated hand. “Why milord married such a useless s’wit -“

“Machara!” Jannet’s voice cracked across the kitchen, bringing silence in its swift wake. I wanted to dissolve through the floor when I became aware of several pairs of eyes focused on the three of us. “This is milady you are speaking to! Give her the courtesy due her station!”

“Very well,” Machara bobbed resentfully. “Milady.”

Jannet turned to look at me. When I glanced at her in trepidation, she nodded curtly. Somehow her look conveyed the confidence she had shown me in front of all these people. I took a deep breath and turned back to Machara, reminding myself of the trick Maester Oricharo had taught me for my stuttering. “Milord likes the way you prepare the cold salad with lemon zest and white vinegar, Machara,” I spoke each syllable carefully. “Please be sure to include the goat’s cheese - I understand we just received a fresh supply of it. And I would like to try the beef with your rosemary and black pepper rub.”

Machara’s brows, pale in her red face, rose nearly into her hairline. “Very well, milady,” she said finally, her tone and expression much less resentful. “It shall be so.”

Jannet turned to lead me out of the kitchen, but I hesitated. “Thank you, Machara.” I said finally. Now genuine surprise flickered across the cook’s face, and the scowl lightened into something resembling a smile.

“Thank me when you’ve eaten dinner, milady!”

Out in the corridor leading from the kitchen toward the main hall, Jannet stopped and faced me. “People around here will compare you to Lady Elspeth,” she said quietly, her eyes on the wall just past my shoulder. “Don’t let it bother you. Lord Wallace married you, Lady Cora, not some replacement for Lady Elspeth. Don’t forget that.”

Since that moment, I hadn’t doubted Jannet’s confidence in me.

I paused in the courtyard, glancing up at the grey sky overhead. The storm had passed during the night, and the morning dawned cold and muddy. I had breakfasted with Edine, Sir Laird’s wife, and Larena, Sir Rodric’s lady. They had moved into the donjon the day their men departed with Wallace. Their manors were unprotected, and the men felt the ladies would be more secure here. In some ways I was grateful for their company, for it helped me to keep my mind from the dangers Wallace and the others rode into. But already I missed Wallace’s companionship, our discussions of the holding’s affairs and of the lands beyond Cardonaccum.

I moved to the center of the courtyard before the great gate towers that led out of the bailey. I looked up at the parapets around the high walls. Sentries stood quietly or patrolled with slow steps along the battlements, ever gazing outwards. It was here, just a couple of days ago, that I said farewell to Wallace.

They brought up his big black destrier. The stallion jibbed at the bit and pawed impatiently at the cobblestones until sparks flew from his iron shoes. Wallace rubbed the horse’s arched neck fondly. Nightshade calmed down, peering at me through the long fall of his wavy forelock. I leaned forward and whispered a charm of safekeeping into his fluttering nostrils.

Wallace turned to me, the dark forest green of his cloak swirling in the late autumn sun. “Milady,” he spoke formally in front of his gathered men, “give me your blessing too.”

His iron helm tucked beneath my arm, I reached up with my free hand and cupped his cheek. He bent down as I stood on bare tippy toes to kiss him full on his lips. “It is as Arkay wills it,” I whispered against his neatly trimmed beard as his men cheered and banged their shields.

“Let it be so,” he matched my tone, his arms tightening around my body until my toes barely brushed the cobblestones. “And remember, you must be both Lord and Lady while I am gone. Do not forget the lessons you have learned.”

I fought down the shiver of foreboding and looked into his cloud-colored eyes. “No, Wallace, I won’t forget. Not as long as I shall live.”

“Promise me, Cora,” his voice became gruff. I caught my breath, a flicker of unease causing my hand to tremble on his cheek. “Promise me you’ll always look after the good folk of Cardonaccum as I have these past many years.”

“I - “ I had to stop to draw a deep breath. “I promise. As Arkay is my witness.” Satisfied, Wallace lowered his hands to my hips, setting me back down.

“Thank you, milady Cora,” Wallace smiled. His eyes held none of that sadness I had sworn to dispel. Instead, it was I who felt sad, I who felt like grieving. I kept my head high, my eyes on his, reluctant to be the one to look away first.

Wallace turned to Nightshade and swung easily up into the saddle. I stepped to the horse’s side and passed his helm up to him. Wallace set it upon his head, giving me one last look. Then his squire handed him Cirsium, the shield with the Red Thistle emblazoned upon it, and followed with the great sword Thistlethorn that had been passed down for five generations. Wallace gathered up the reins and kneed Nightshade into a tight pirouette.

I remained rooted to the spot as Nightshade pranced out through the bailey gate, the knights and men-at-arms falling in behind. Edine and Larena stood beside me as the last of the men filed out, and the castle thistleman closed the great gates upon their flashing spears. Something twisted in my heart as the huge bolt dropped home. I broke my stance and ran for the narrow stair leading up to the gate towers. I wanted to keep Wallace in my vision for as long as I could.

There he was, at the head of the column. Nightshade, a patch of midnight on this grey morning, set a fast pace for the foot soldiers following behind the knights. On his back Wallace sat as if part of the stallion, tall and straight-backed.

I shook myself as the vision of Wallace’s departure faded away. I had known then, and I remained convinced, that that would be the last time I saw him alive. I had kept it to myself, reluctant to share it with anyone. Perhaps if I kept silent on that foreboding, it wouldn’t come true.

I hoped.

Posted by: Acadian Jul 7 2013, 09:59 PM

How wonderful to review some of Lady Cora’s rocky beginnings when thrust into her position as lady of the castle. I’m so pleased that Jannet decided to take the young lady under her experienced hand and help uplift Cora into her newfound position. This scene was quiet, but a complete delight to read. More specifically, I really enjoy that you take the time to linger over the subtleties of developing Cora as a character whose hopes, dreams and frailties we can identify with.

Then a review of Lord Wallace’s departure. Fabulous atmosphere of medieval gallantry you created here. I am concerned at Cora’s foreboding conviction that her lord will not return. I suspect she is right but will join Cora in hoping against it.

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 7 2013, 11:42 PM

I see Cora's first days as the lady of the house were not easy ones. No surprise for a 18 year old who was doubtlessly sheltered. all of her life.

I keep trying to place Cardonaccum. Since Wallace (first name William by any chance?) is off fighting the Colovians, it cannot be in the west of Cyrodiil. Given the highland burr, and the strong thistle motif, I can only guess somewhere around Bruma. Or maybe it is somewhere closer to Alba?

The cook, nearly as wide as she was tall, turned to face me.
An overweight cook is a good sign. It means they make good food. Now a skinny cook, that is something to be worried about!

Lord Wallace seemed perhaps more doomful than a lord going to war might be. He does not seem to expect to return. No wonder Cora has such a foreboding feeling.

Posted by: King Coin Jul 8 2013, 01:10 AM

“Not unless you want to poison everyone.”
That would solve the food shortage… Lol.

The age difference really hit me in this chapter. 18 to his 50. Wow. And as SubRosa highlighted, she came in after a previous wife. That would be intimidating.

I too keep trying to imagine where Cardonaccum is.

Jannet was exactly what she needed to get into her role. I wonder how Wallace enjoyed his meal.

The departure was moving. A true good-bye.

Posted by: ThatSkyrimGuy Jul 8 2013, 11:57 PM

No need to apologize or explain. As I said, learning is always a good thing. I inferred that the Thistlemen were castle guards...glad I had it right. On to this installment...

I snapped my fingers. “Could have made some to send up as a gift to that Colovian general!” Niall’s lips twitched and he looked away. I sighed at yet another failure to make him laugh or even crack his imperturbable exterior. -- This was a neat insight into Niall's personality. Nicely done.

I really liked the look back to Cora's early days at Cardonaccum. Her insecurity at that time, puncuated by her stammer, was very easy to visualize. Then seeing how her relationship with Jannet had begun. Then lastly, the flashback in the courtyard to Wallace's departure. Very emotional scene indeed. Great write!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jul 14 2013, 06:16 PM

@Acadian: Thanks for your affirmation of my attempt to develop Cora's character while diving right into the story. I like writing stories this way - get right to the action and let my characters' reactions and responses describe their personalities and histories to us the readers. Yes, I wanted to create the sense of dread Cora is struggling with in her Lord's absence.

@SubRosa: I wouldn't say Cora has been sheltered all her life - let's just say that her early experiences have not been delightful. Honestly, this marriage scared her when she first came to Cardonaccum, but turned out to be so different from what she expected. We will find out later in the story more about her early upbringing. I do think you need to think about the time frame first before you can place Cardonaccum. Not to worry, we will learn later in the story where it is really located.

@KC: I think it goes without saying that Lord Wallace enjoyed his meal! I'm sure Acadian did! Jannet is a special lady, and I'm glad that came across.

@TheSkyMan: I've always seen Niall as the epitome of the English Butler - stiff upper lip, dry sense of humor that is never revealed, and exacting service without servitude.

The story so far: We get a sense of Cora's beginnings at Cardonaccum and the dread she feels about her husband's fate as he heads off to face the Colovians. Now we begin to see the aftermath of that confrontation.

Chapter Three

Mist rose from the valley floor and piled up around the base of the castle wall. I stood next to Robert, looking out over the holding. Silence enfolded us in mutual worry as we gazed along the road that led south from Cardonaccum. Our breaths merged with the wispy fog that began to swirl around the tops of the gate towers.

“They should be sending messengers soon,” Robert’s gruff voice sounded muted in the gloomy afternoon light. I nodded silently. And the wounded, too. If Robert thought the same, he kept it to himself. Yet I knew he was too experienced a soldier to not consider the things Wallace had warned me about.

Moisture collected on my bare cheeks. It’s drizzling. I drew the hood of my thick cloak up over my hair and tucked my hands into the long sleeves of my overdress to keep them warm. The afternoon light grew perceptibly darker with the lowering overcast.

“It’ll rain again soon,” Robert turned to me. “Milady, you should go inside by the fire. The men will keep watch here. I’ll make sure they send word to you as soon as they see something.”

I touched his mailed arm. “Come in, too, Robert. At least eat something hot.”

He gave a final glance outward before nodding his acquiescence. Gallantly he gave me his arm as we headed for the stair leading down, now slick from the drizzle. We soon reached the courtyard and started toward the donjon.

Robert stopped in the center of the open space. I turned to look up into his shadowed face. His heavy mustache hid the expression of his lips, and I couldn’t see more than a glimmer of his eyes in the gloom. “What is it, Robert?”

“Milady, you know I’ve never spoken of your - “ his voice trailed off. I waited, wondering at his pensiveness. “They say you’re a Witch, that you can foresee one’s fate.” Again he stopped.

“I’m not sure that I’m truly a Witch,” I answered softly. “I know little of magic spells and such. Potions and poisons are more my expertise, as you well know.” I shook my head. “Though I will not deny that my father was one of the Witchmen. Yet I have not even a glimmer of his gift. Foretelling futures? Nay, that I can not do.”

Robert turned his gaze to the high stone wall of the donjon before us. “Then you canna ken the outcome of this battle?”

I sighed, feeling again the foreboding that had rested heavy in my belly since Wallace’s departure. “No, Robert, I can’t. But that’s not to say I don’t have a bad feeling about this -“ I stopped myself, unwilling to share more of my unease with him. However much I trusted Robert, and Jannet, I could not burden them with my dread. What if it means nothing? I would have worried them for naught.

“Aye, that I have, too,” Robert muttered, turning his gaze back to me. “I fear for milord and the others. But most of all, I fear for you and the good people of Cardonaccum. If milord falls -“

“I promised milord I would look after his folk,” I stopped Robert with a gesture. “If it comes to it -“ my voice wavered, and I swallowed. “If it comes to it, may I count on you to stand beside me and help me keep that promise?”

“I swear by Shor that I shall stand beside you and support you to the end!” Robert’s vehement whisper caused my shoulders to straighten involuntarily. I squeezed his wrist in gratitude.

We walked slowly up the wide steps leading into the donjon. Behind us a shout echoed across the bailey. “Stay here, milady,” Robert started back down to the courtyard. The wailing note of a war horn reached us. The big castellan broke into a run, his cloak shedding droplets with his rapid pace.

“It’s milord!” One of the thistlemen shouted down from the gate towers. “He’s hurt, from the looks of it!”

My heart leaped into my throat and stayed there as Robert shouted for the thistlemen to unbolt the gates. Golden light surged across the stairs and into the courtyard from behind me as the donjon doors were flung open. Niall stopped next to me. “Is it -?”

“Get the priest,” I said to him. “And f- fetch bandages and potions!”

“Yes, milady!” Niall disappeared back into the donjon as crofters, servants and ladies crowded behind me.

Thistlemen ran to the gates as they swung ponderously open, creaking in the damp twilight. Now I could hear hoofbeats thundering across the moat bridge outside the castle. My feet ached to run toward that tall portal, but I forced myself to wait.

Four dark figures on horses surged through the gateway to the center of the courtyard. The animals slithered and slid on the stones, fighting to stay upright beneath their burdens. None of them were Nightshade. I took a step forward to the edge of the top step when I saw that two of the horses carried double. Thistlemen swarmed around the jittery horses, trying to steady them long enough for the riders to hand down their burdens. I recognized Sir Laird’s big grey. He held someone in his arms across his saddle. So did Sir Broc on his red chestnut with the blaze. The younger knight looked up at me as he handed his burden down to the thistlemen’s waiting arms.

“My husband!” Larena exclaimed as Laird nearly dropped the broken form into the thistlemen’s hands. She ran forward as they bore Sir Rodric’s bloodied body to the stairs. Laird dismounted from his horse and staggered, exhaustion in every line of his form.

“Bring them inside, quick!” I waved for the men to carry their burdens into the keep’s main hall. I stood aside to let them pass, my gaze moving back toward the gates where more riders galloped through. Nightshade wasn’t among them, either.

I looked down just as they carried Broc’s wounded past. My breath disappeared into the night as my gaze fell on Wallace’s bloodied face. The flesh had been torn from the left side of his head, leaving bone gaping through the red mess. His face was nearly as white as his skull, and his eyes were closed.

Somehow I found the strength to follow the thistlemen bearing my husband’s inert form into the hall. Sir Rodric struggled against the pain of his broken limbs as they bore him to one side of the hearth. Larena fell to her knees beside her husband, sobbing. I turned my gaze from them to Wallace as they laid him onto the adjacent cot.

“Milord!” I leaned down to him as the thistlemen drew back. He did not respond. I felt tears burn the backs of my eyes as I gazed onto that weathered face and felt the deathly stillness in his body. All the warmth in the world fled from me and I dropped to my knees beside him.

No, it’s just a nightmare. One of my nightmares. He’ll put his arms around me and tell me it’s just a nightmare. Arkay, Kyne, please let it be just a nightmare! I laid my cheek against his blood-stained surcoat, over that great heart of his. I heard only Larena’s weeping. I closed my eyes. Please Arkay, don’t take my husband. Please! I haven’t given him a child yet! You can’t take him away from me! Please! It’s just a nightmare. Wallace will wake me up with his arms around me. Please!

His arms did not enfold me in the embrace I so desperately prayed for. His body did not move beneath me, his chest did not rise. Those sad, expressive eyes remained closed.

“I’m sorry, milady,” Broc’s voice reached me. A hand touched my right shoulder, lingered just a little too long. “He saved Sir Rodric’s life, but died in the melee.”

“You’re the reason he’s dead, fetcher!” Rodric shouted as I shook off Broc’s hand. I rose to my feet and turned toward Rodric. “He saved my life, true, then he saved yours! But damned fool you, you let him be struck down by Colovian blades!” Laird clamped his hand on Rodric’s good shoulder and pressed him back down on the cot. Larena pleaded with her husband to lie quietly.

I did not look at Broc, only turned back to Wallace. My blurred vision saw his empty hands, the fingers on the right flayed to the bone. The left forearm bent at an unnatural angle. Dark viscera protruded through a rent in the left side of his mail coat.

“Sir Rodric is not himself,” Broc stepped to my side and took my elbow. “It was so chaotic, so confusing, he must be mistaken -“ Reflexively I struck his shoulder, knocking him back.

“Where is milord’s sword? His shield? And his horse?” I drew myself up to my fullest height and faced Broc. “If you were with him when he was killed, why did you not take his gear?”

He bowed his head in overt grief. “When milord fell, all I could think of was to get him to safety. He still lived when we left the battlefield -“

“So you left Cirsium, Thistlethorn and Nightshade behind for the Colovians to take?” I cut him off, anger replacing grief.

“Nightshade was cut down when milord came to Sir Rodric’s aid!” Broc protested, his hands lifting to my shoulders. I stepped back until my thighs met the edge of the cot, now my husband’s bier. “And I couldn’t fetch his weapons and hope to save milord!”

“That’s enough!” Robert’s stentorian voice cut through the whispers around us as he stepped to my side. He glanced briefly at Wallace, then turned to me, blue eyes dark. “What will ye have me do, milady?”

Shouting stopped my answer. Everyone glanced toward the front of the hall, where the doors still stood open to the courtyard. Thistlemen darted outside, spears and halberds lowered. Sir Laird and Robert pushed their way through the crofters after the men. They stopped in the doorway, and I saw Robert’s face turn back toward me. Then the two men drew their swords and stepped out. Angry shouting reached me, though I couldn’t make out the words. But some of the voices were new to me.

Let Robert and Sir Laird take care of them. I turned back to Wallace and touched his cold face, the tears warm on my own.

“Lady Cora ap Askey!” The unfamiliar voice shouting my full name brought my head around. Who dares call me by my father’s name? “Lady Cora ap Askey! I have something that belongs to you!” More shouting drowned him out, but not before I identified the accent as foreign.

I walked to the open doorway as the clouds broke open and released a downpour. In the courtyard, three men astride dark bays clustered around a white horse and a black destrier. The dark one tossed his head high, eyes showing white, and pealed defiance to the skies. The castle thistlemen ringed the group, spears and halberds leveled. But the strangers’ own swords remained sheathed at their sides. The fourth man, unmounted and with his back to Nightshade, for it was Nightshade standing there pawing furiously at the cobblestones, looked up from beneath his hood as I stepped out into the rain.

“Take them!” Sir Laird shouted. I glanced at the thistlemen, and caught Robert’s eye. He tipped his head toward the strangers, and I shook mine. No. Let them speak their piece.

“Put up your blades!” Robert’s voice drowned out Sir Laird’s shouted commands. “Milady commands it!”

The one who met my gaze held Nightshade’s reins effortlessly. The stallion, known for his viciousness toward enemies, did nothing more than stamp sparks from the granite paving. The cloaked, hooded man gazed at me for another moment more, then stepped forward, the wild-eyed destrier following him.

Laird spun toward me, but my gaze remained locked on the cloaked, hooded stranger leading my husband’s stallion to the steps. He stopped on the first step, and I could see that he carried something beneath his cloak.

“Lady Cora?” His voice was quieter now, barely audible above the downpour that soaked all of Nirn. Silently I nodded. He bowed low, then straightened up with a flourish that swept the hood back over his shoulders.

Again my breath fled at the face that looked back at me. The face I had seen before - the man of my nightmares.

Posted by: Acadian Jul 14 2013, 11:05 PM

We learn that Cora carries blood of the Western Reach! And that she has earned the loyalty of the steady Robert for what will, no doubt, be unsteady times ahead.

So Milady’s sense of pending doom proved fully founded as, sadly, Wallace did not survive the battle. Bickering among the wounded knights over what transpired sheds ominous doubts and hints of possible treachery. This is reinforced by Cora’s observation that Broc’s hand ‘lingered just a little too long’.

Nightshade did return however, with a magnificent display of sparks! Yet the stallion only serves to introduce more intrigue. For the horse does not perceive the hooded stranger as a foe, yet the man’s hood falls back to reveal a face from Cora’s nightmares.

The everpresent rain in this scene really contributed to the sense of gloom and mystery.

Edit: I just read SubRosa's comment below and now I am thinking that the face from Cora's nightmares is not the stuff of being eaten alive or such, but perhaps the face of a messenger of death relating to the loss of Wallace. The bearer of bad news, but not a foe perhaps.

Posted by: ghastley Jul 15 2013, 06:54 PM

Just found this one, and I find myself going down the same roads as King Coin and ThatSkyrimGuy in looking up your terminology and trying to place the action on the map.

Can I expect coursers, rounceys and palfreys to make an appearance soon?

I'm also enjoying matching up the scottish and welsh characters to their Tamriel counterparts, and wondering which history is playing out here.

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 15 2013, 09:02 PM

So Cora's a Witchwoman of the Western Reach? Now that is interesting.

“Then you canna ken the outcome of this battle?”
That settles it, they are definitely in Scotland!

Well, that went as I expected it would. At least they were able to bring home Wallace's body. That's not always possible after a defeat.

A very good display of Cora's emotions as she is forced to face the fact of her husband's death.

And a mysterious stranger appears with Lord Wallace's horse, and I suspect his sword and shield. Perhaps Cora is more a Witch than she lets on, since she has seen him before. Granted, that she saw him in a nightmare is not a good sign...

http://youtu.be/qBmw63fcxzM

Posted by: Grits Jul 16 2013, 04:26 AM

I love your way of starting the story and letting details about the characters emerge in a natural way. I find myself full of questions and eager to keep reading for the answers.

Ooo, this last section was heartbreaking and exciting! What an entrance for the cloaked, hooded stranger.

I’m looking forward to more!

Posted by: ThatSkyrimGuy Jul 17 2013, 01:41 PM

Another great installment. I agree with Acadian whole heartedly about your use of the weather to enhance the gloom and doom that this chapter brings. I'm not lore-wise enough to discern how SubRosa and Acadian deduced Cora is from the Western Reach, but I'll take their word for it. I had a feeling that Cora's sense of foreboding would be realized, but it is still a shame that Wallace now lays broken and dead on a cot. I am looking forward to finding out if Broc was indeed treacherous and who this visitor from nightmares might be...

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jul 21 2013, 05:29 PM

@Acadian: As always, I enjoyed your summation of the elements that resonated with you. This tells me that I am hitting the right notes in my writing. The stranger from Cora's nightmares will reveal his identity in today's segment, so keep reading!

@ghastley: I haven't heard the term rounceys! And I thought I knew them all! No coursers here unfortunately. Most of what Cardonaccum breeds are chargers and palfreys (and we will see one or two of those later, I promise!). I'm glad that you are intrigued enough to try and locate Cardonaccum on a Tamriel map. Keep reading, more clues to come! One or two very large clues in today's post will prove to be helpful in your quest, I think. To be honest, I'm not using Scottish and Welsh history here, though there is a very strong flavor of those two cultures running throughout this tale. I admit that I've always found those two countries very fascinating. Someday . . .

@SageRose: Cora is not quite a Witchwoman, as we will soon see. But I'm glad that tidbit spurred your interest. I've been wanting to write a Witch character for some time, and when Cora first introduced herself to me, that's when I knew the time was now. Thanks for the linky to the vid! Goliath is actually the model for Nightshade - I kept seeing him as I was writing the stallion's passages. Friesian horses are so like Morgans that they are easy for me to write. I have actually met a Friesian stud who was as gentle as he was impressive. They're not that big, but their stance makes them seem bigger! As for Rutger Hauer, he is not quite how I picture Wallace, but he certainly has the heroic look down pat. I would be content to let him play Wallace! But I think he is better suited to play the man from Cora's nightmares. Gary Cooper, if he were still alive, would be better as Wallace!

@Grits: I'm glad you are enjoying this story. I love introducing my characters slowly, over time, just as we learn about each other in real life. Keep reading - I think it only gets better!

ThatSkyrimGuy: I'm glad to see you're still reading! Your fiction is actually on my list of must-read - I just haven't found the time to sit down and read through it yet. I did read enough to know it is Skyrim-based. Since I don't have Skyrim, it will be interesting to see how much I can follow without having played the game. Yes, the weather is proving to be as much a character in this story as the animals and the people! There is a lot of information in thehttp://www.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Main_Page, which is my major source of research. The in-game books in Oblivion were my starting point, and I am delighted that they are duplicated in full here. There are more to be found at the http://www.imperial-library.info I should warn you, though, they are vortexes that will suck you into the black hole of lost time!

The story so far: Wallace's body has been returned to Cardonaccum, along with injured soldiers and knights. But Cora does not have time to grieve, as the man from her nightmares show up with Nightshade in tow . . .

*******************
Chapter Four

Lightning crackled above us and threw his face into stark relief. Dark hair, cropped short, and a close-trimmed dark beard framed a square-jawed visage that bespoke strength, cunning and intelligence. The neat mustache only emphasized the hard lines of his mouth and the cold cast to his eyes. The dark cloak cascaded from broad shoulders and hid his shape.

“Lady Cora?” he asked again, resuming his approach up the stairs. Nightshade tossed his head in protest, then followed the man with much blowing and snorting.

Robert shouted an order, and six of the castle thistlemen left the ring and ran to surround me.

“Easy,”I reached out to the one nearest me and pressed his spear upwards. Robert reached my side just as I stepped clear of the thistlemen. With his protective bulk at my right, I felt more confident facing this apparition from my nightmares. “I am she,” I said to the Colovian soldier.

He stopped two steps below me, his eyes level with mine. “I am General Talos, commander of King Cuhlecain’s Colovian forces.” As the stallion sidled around him, he stretched his right hand and held the reins to me. “I believe this horse belonged to your husband, and therefore to you.”

I took the straps. Once Talos released them, Nightshade calmed down and side-stepped to stand beside me, opposite Robert. He blew softly against my shoulder then became as still as a statue.

Talos’s gaze flickered over the suddenly docile warhorse, and his lips twitched in the briefest and faintest of smiles. I was glad of the sheltering bulks of Nightshade and Robert when his eyes returned to mine. “And I came to return these.” He threw his cloak back over his left shoulder in another flourish.

Again I had to deflect threatening spear blades when I recognized the red thistle of Cirsium. Talos held it out to me, tilted so I could take it by its edge. His gauntleted right hand disappeared behind the shield, then reappeared with Thistlethorn, held by its blade and hilt extended to me.

I nodded to Robert, who took the shield. My hands shook as I reached for the heavy greatsword, but I managed to grip it without dropping it to the stone steps. The massive ruby mounted in the pommel gleamed blackly in the storm light. Lightly I touched the blooming thistle inlaid in silver on the forte of its steel blade. Denying release to my tears, I shifted my gaze back to Talos.

“Not that I am ungrateful, General,” I used Maester Oricharo’s trick to quell the stammer that threatened to surface. “But why did you not keep these for yourself?”

His brows raised at my question. “Lord Wallace fought bravely,” he said. “Single-handedly he and his horse kept off a full century until they were decimated. He was defeated only through bad luck,” he nodded at Nightshade. “The horse slipped in the mud and fell. Once Lord Wallace was unhorsed, my men were able to overwhelm him. Yet he fought on and refused surrender.” He inclined his head, the motion conveying the respect of one warrior for another. “For me to keep his horse and gear as trophies would be disrespectful of his sacrifice for his men and for his people.”

“My father and brother were among those you slaughtered at Sancre Tor last winter,” I made my tone hard. “What makes you think I won’t take these emblems of my husband’s authority and use them against you?”

Talos didn’t flinch. “I would expect no less from one such as you, Lady Cora,” he showed me the hilt of his own sword, resting at his side. “That is why I am here with a proposal. I hope you will take the time to hear me out.”

I felt my brows rise at his words as Wallace’s men shifted their feet. “A proposal?” I lifted Thistlethorn between us, its blade pointed downward between my hands. “My husband lies mere hours dead by your blades, and you come to me with a proposal? What makes you so confident that I’ll listen instead of having you struck down right here on these steps!”

Talos held my gaze steadily. “I’ve heard about you, Lady Cora ap Askey. You would be a formidable foe, and after your husband’s exacting toll, I’ve no more energy.” Again he inclined his head to me. “Please hear me out first, before you decide my fate.”

The sword slipped between my slick palms as my arms began to tremble with the effort of holding it upright. A cold trickle ran down my spine and I couldn’t suppress the involuntary shiver. I took a deep breath, then another. A shrill voice in the back of my mind screamed at me to have Robert cut this upstart general down. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to give the order, not with Talos standing right in front of me, his gaze so steady on mine. And not with my calmer inner voice, the one I always listened to, telling me to wait.

Finally I lowered Thistlethorn’s tip to the stones between my feet and cradled its hilt against my body. “We have wounded to tend to, and a lord’s funeral to carry out.” I caught the flicker in his eyes and wondered at it. “Robert.”

“Yes, milady.”

Without taking my eyes off Talos, I spoke slowly and quietly. “Take their weapons and their horses. Put these men up in the salt room. Make sure they have a fire to dry themselves, and something hot to drink.”

“Milady!” This from Laird, who stood at Robert’s other side. “Surely you wouldn’t consider -!”

“They brought Wallace’s emblems home,” I answered. “His ancestral shield, the sword of his forefathers. S- something that you,” I shot him a glare, “his own sworn knight, f- failed to do.” I lifted my chin until the rain camouflaged the tears I could no longer restrain. “For that alone, I owe the General th- this much.”

Robert shut Laird’s protests by handing him Cirsium. He stepped down to stand before Talos. “I believe you heard milady,” he said with neutral courtesy.

“Yes, I did,” Talos answered, unhooking his sheathed sword and handing it to Robert. “I shall wait until after Lord Wallace’s funeral.”

“Robert will see to your needs until then,” I picked up the sword and turned away. I did not look back as I entered the donjon. Behind me, the sounds of dismounting men, Nightshade belling as he was led to his stable, and the hoofbeats of the Colovian horses following after him trailed into the main hall.

Laird fell in beside me, matching his stride to my shorter steps. “Milady, you can’t trust that general -“

I stopped when my gaze fell on Broc, still standing next to Wallace’s still form. “There are those here I can’t trust, Sir Laird.” I turned to the aged knight. Older than Wallace, he had served Wallace’s father before swearing his allegiance to my husband so many years ago. Wallace had once said to me: “Laird is loyal to a fault. He is also hidebound and stuck in tradition going back to Aldmeri times. He’s a good man to have in a fight, but not such a good one to forge a diplomatic alliance.”

I regarded Laird’s visage somberly. He swayed a little, and I put my hand on his elbow. “You’re exhausted, sir. Please let your wife take you to her chambers, please rest. I will have need of you later, when we conduct the funeral rites for milord.” I caught Edine’s eye and waved her up.

As Edine led her husband away, Onchu, the rotund priest of Arkay, approached me. “Milady, shall we take milord’s body to the chapel?”

I glanced at the fire, at Rodric with Larena still sobbing beside him. “I have to take care of Sir Rodric first.” I met Onchu’s eyes. “But yes, take milord’s body there. I will join you there when Sir Rodric is tended.”

“Very well, milady,” Onchu bowed. He turned away as I made my way toward the wounded knight. Before I reached his side, Broc stopped me with a hand on my arm.

“Milady, tend to my wounds,” he said plaintively. “I would tell you how your husband died.”

“I know how he died,” I shook him off and stepped away. He followed me, staying too close to me for my peace. A glance around at the castle inhabitants revealed a pretty red-haired girl watching us. I waved her up. “Morna can ease your injuries. Go with her.”

Broc regarded me for a moment more, his jaw working with frustration. Then he rounded on the servant girl and brusquely gestured her to lead him. She bobbed a curtsy to me before moving away, the lean knight on her heels.

Will Morna realize her wish? I knew how she had dreamed of snagging her own knight, as she imagined I had done ten years ago. Little does she know that I had no say in that matter. Will it work out as well for her as it did for me? I didn’t like Broc’s familiarity with me, his overt advances that implied disloyalty to my husband.

Finally I reached Rodric’s side. Larena still wept beside him. He lay back, his face white beneath the blood splatter. His right arm and left leg lay at painful angles. Jannet was already at work, cutting away his armor. I set Thistlethorn against the side of the fireplace and leaned down to my husband’s most loyal knight. “Sir Rodric?”

He opened his eyes and blinked momentarily. When recognition flickered through his gaze, he drew breath to speak. I shook my head. “Be quiet. Let me examine you first.” I laid my left hand on his forehead. “Close your eyes, Sir Rodric.”

At first the pain I felt through that light touch was overwhelming. But soon I could determine the sources of the worst injuries. Broken right arm, left leg just as I suspected. Broken ribs on the right side. Torn ligaments in the right knee. He won’t be able to stand for days, if not weeks. And a sore head. No wonder he’s so dizzy, too. I broke the contact and looked across him at Larena, who watched me with bated breath.

“He will live,” I assured her softly. “Maybe a permanent limp, but he’ll walk again. It’s his head I’m most worried about. He’s dizzy, and that can get worse, or it may get better. We’ll have to see. I’ll have Siné take care of his injuries.” I turned to Jannet and began murmuring to her. She listened intently, then nodded and departed to carry out my instructions.

I moved to rise, but Rodric laid his good hand on my wrist. “Milady,” his weak tone pleaded, “will I be able to fight again?”

I took his hand in both of mine. “I don’t think so,” I said quietly. “Best to think about sending your Torquil to take your place in the vanguard.”

“But he’s only thirteen!” Larena protested, her voice cracking. “So young!”

“I was younger than he when I first took up the sword for Wallace!” Rodric growled at his wife. She relapsed into sobbing. He met my gaze. “It will be done.”

“Larena has a point,” I responded. “I think it will be best if he were to train with Robert for a year or two first. We’ll see how he comes along. Until then, we’ll muck along as best as we can.” I squeezed his hand. “For now, you need to think about recovering your strength.”

Jannet returned with two maids in tow, their arms laden with splinting materials, bandages and potions. The older woman put them to work cleaning Rodric’s wounds. I rose to my feet and stepped back to give them room. “Jannet, I will be in the chapel if anyone needs me.” I turned away.

Jannet followed me into the corridor that led back to the chapel. “Milady, do you require help?” Her wide gaze on me was uncharacteristically expressive, reflecting the grief I felt.

“No, I will do this alone,” I answered. Jannet glanced around to make sure we were alone, then wrapped her arms tightly around me. I gave in to the sorrow and leaned gratefully into her embrace. She patted my back gently as I wept into her shoulder.

Footsteps reached us, and I stepped back. Jannet’s arms fell to her sides, but she kept her gaze on me. “Thank you, Jannet,” I murmured as Machara appeared, a covered tray in her hands. “Please look after Sir Rodric for me. For milord.”

“Of course,” she nodded curtly, then turned on her heel and moved away. Machara stopped before me.

“Milady, I am so sorry,” she began, then stopped on a sob. I looked up at the big Nord. “Tell me how you want the funeral feast prepared?”

“I will let you know when I decide,” I answered. My gaze fell on the tray.

“Hot bergamot tea for the prisoners,” Machara lifted the platter slightly. “And haggis. We’ll see if they have the stomach for real food!”

I smiled through my tears at her vehemence. “Be sure they have no reason to complain, then!” I stepped aside. “Robert can see to it if you bring it to him.”

She bobbed a knee, then marched on down the hall. I leaned against the wall for a moment, fighting for breath against the sobs that threatened to overwhelm me. After a few moments, I found the courage to continue to the chapel.

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 21 2013, 06:21 PM

I know you remarked upon it already, but I really do like how you have entitled the men-at-arms as thistlemen. That unique title not only sets them aside from generic 'guards', but also ties them most securely to the specific setting of Cardonaccum. It gives both them and the setting more life.

The stranger is Talos!?! Oh goodness.

Somehow I do not think Talos has come alone to Cardonaccum - the very stronghold of his enemy - just out of chivarly. Ahh, there is a proposal. I expect he wants to mend fences now that the battle is over and bring Cora and her people over to his side, just as Ieyasu Tokagawa joined Oda Nobunaga after Nobunaga defeated him. While the desire for vengeance is doubtlessly going to be strong, I also expect that Cora will weigh that against her responsibility to protect her people. Killing Talos would only insure their destruction. While joining with him would keep them safe. Of course she will need a way to make that happen with honor, to protect the name of Wallace's family. In fact this entire episode resonates with Cora's duty and responsibilities as leader of Cardonaccum, which she must constantly place before her own needs and desires.

Little does she know that I had no say in that matter.
I liked this nod to the reality of arranged marriages among nobility. Let alone to the lack of choice women of all stations often had in the matter.

And haggis.
So she is going to torture them after all!

Posted by: ThatSkyrimGuy Jul 21 2013, 06:32 PM

Cora certainly showed true strength (or an outward visage of strength while she inwardly dealt with her anguish) in her handling of the encounter with General Talos, right up until she confronted Sir Laird for failing to do what Wallace's enemy had done...returning with Nightshade and her husband's ancestral gear. Her stammer snuck out then. A very powerful scene. I find myself very intrigued that Talos would give himself over to Cora and Robert to be held captive until he delivers his proposal. I can't wait to hear what that may be. And then there's Broc...I don't trust this guy as far as I could kick him.

Great write!

Posted by: jack cloudy Jul 21 2013, 08:42 PM

I'm not caught up till the end, but I just wanted to say that this story drew my attention. I don't know what it is, the castlelife, the elaborate social network, the focus on duty and such simple necessities as food or simply the fact that the main character is not an adventurer.

Posted by: ghastley Jul 21 2013, 09:59 PM

Without 'neeps or whisky, perhaps it is. Does bergamot tea even come close?

So it's 2E853, but we're still not sure quite where - Talos still has his voice, and Cuhlecain lives. At this point in history, the alliance between the Nords (Wallace and his kin) and the Bretons (Cora and hers) is unraveling. One wonders if Wallace was trying to shore that up, and if Talos is aware of the opportunity to divide and conquer.

Posted by: Acadian Jul 21 2013, 10:08 PM

General Talos! Oh my!

There’s a lot going on here as Cora tries to deal with it all, then determines her priorities and sets them in motion.

Throughout this scene, she displays more ‘rulership’ than she most likely realizes.

Frankly, it sounds like General Talos, a foe, is more trustworthy than the supposed ally, Sir Broc. . . .

Posted by: King Coin Jul 22 2013, 02:47 AM

It sounds if the wait may be over soon. I expect grim news.

Wow, I am surprised Wallace’s body returned.

And who is this, bringing her husband’s horse back? Talos!

Wouldn’t that have been an odd twist if she had lost her temper and had Talos killed on the steps there.

Posted by: Grits Jul 26 2013, 03:52 PM

General Talos?! Oh my gosh!

“And haggis. We’ll see if they have the stomach for real food!”
Stomach!

General Talos must be well-informed about Cora to place himself in her hands, and he must be pretty confident about his proposal to risk it. I look forward to learning more. And hopefully Lord Wallace won’t lie in state for a week before the funeral, leaving Talos and his men at the mercy of Machara!

Posted by: Kazaera Jul 27 2013, 12:54 PM

Oooh! This is very interesting - I definitely wasn't expecting the mysterious man from Cora's nightmares to be Talos! I'm also guessing he has a proposition along the lines of "support me and I won't attack you" and Cora will get talked into it because of it being her duty to protect her people, but I'm very interested as to the details here... especially because like Grits, I think Talos must be pretty confident as to how things will turn out to risk this.

Also, I have to defend Scottish cuisine for a moment - I actually like haggis! The taste is mostly seasoning (it's quite spicy, I think there's a lot of pepper involved) and the texture is mostly from the oatmeal, so it's easy to eat without needing to think about what exactly is in it . Of course, I don't know how Cardonaccum haggis compares to the modern Scottish variety... except that I'm relatively sure it doesn't come http://www.cosmospizzas.com/our-pizzas/

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jul 28 2013, 09:50 PM

@SubRosa: Thanks for your vote on my choice of 'thistlemen.' Your summation of the situation facing both Talos and Cora is pretty much spot on. Which way will Cora go? You'll see in upcoming chapters! I had to laugh at your comment about a certain Scottish dish being an instrument of torture!

@SkyGuy: Thank you for picking up on the return of her stammer! Yes, it revealed the strength of her emotion in that moment, and how hard-earned her self-control in that scene is. And Talos isn't quite as alone, or as defenseless, as he seems. I've always seen him as a master strategist as well as tactician, and hope to show that aspect of his character in this story.

@Mr. Cumulus: Hi jack! *waves* Welcome to my story! Thanks for your kind words - I'm glad you're enjoying my poor attempt at world-building. My characters have all kinds of adventures, but I doubt any of them is an adventurer! I will try to keep this interesting in terms of the world we find Cardonaccum in.

@ghastley: Your take on the geopolitics in this story is interesting, and not that far off my own vision. I'm not following the Lore all that closely (if Beth isn't, why should I? - point to Destri Melarg for that comment), but I am keeping to the major events of the timeline. So yes, Talos still has his voice, though I'm not sure which version I'm going to go with, the official Imperial version or the Arcturan Heresy version. I'm still playing that one out. And I doubt bergamot tea will help alleviate the impact of the haggis.

@Acadian: My paladin! I think you will find your comparison of Talos vs. Broc to be spot on as the story progresses. And yes, we see more of Cora as a leader than she herself realizes. She will always doubt her own abilities, long after everyone else has accepted her as the ruler of Cardonaccum.

@KC: Odd twist of fate, indeed! But Cora has not been quick to kill, and isn't about to start now. She is intrigued enough by this Colovian general's sudden appearance on her doorstep (literally) that she wants to hear what he has to say.

@Grits: I had to laugh out loud at your detection of the (unintended) pun Machara made at the end of the last chapter! Stomach indeed! Just how well-informed is General Talos? We will see when he makes his proposal to Cora. And no, Lord Wallace won't lie in state for any length of time, as we will see.

@Kazaera: Yes, General Talos is supremely confident in the ultimate success of his endeavor to take such a risk as this. He sure knows how to go for maximum impact, that's for sure! As for haggis, I didn't put that in as a means of torture as SubRosa implied, but as a nod to the culture that is the inspiration for Cardonaccum. The name of the place is Latin for 'the place where thistles grow,' and as many of us know, the humble thistle is the national emblem for Scotland, a country I find to be very interesting and fascinating (right alongside Wales). Someday when I visit Scotland, I will have to try haggis. But not on pizza, thank you very much.

The story so far: General Talos has returned Nightshade, Thistlethorn and Cirsium to Lord Wallace's widow, along with a proposal. Cora has her priorities straight, and has imprisoned Talos and his party in the salt cellar for now, while she tends to more important duties.

*******************
Chapter Five

Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies,
Now gay with the broad setting sun;
Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties,
Our race of existence is run!
Thou grim King of Terrors; thou Life's gloomy foe!
Go, frighten the coward and slave;
Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but know
No terrors hast thou to the brave!

Thou strik'st the dull peasant—he sinks in the dark,
Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name;
Thou strik'st the young hero—a glorious mark;
He falls in the blaze of his fame!
In the field of proud honor—our swords in our hands,
Our Lord and our land to save;
While victory shines on Life's last ebbing sands,—
O! who would not die with the brave!

The voices of the soldiers died down as the last notes of the clarsach faded away over the high moor. I stood next to the bier, my head held high. The grey clouds overhead scudded before the north wind. They reminded me of Wallace’s eyes, the eyes I would never look into again. Against the western horizon, a sliver of red sun cast blood on a straight path from the sea across the heather.

At the head of the bier, Onchu droned on, his shoulders hunched against the wind. I listened to Arkay’s funeral lesson with one ear, my face frozen into stone. Exhaustion weighed my bones until I wanted to sink into the ground. But the watchful eyes of the castle folk kept my back straight.

I had spent the night with Wallace, unable to sleep. Without his presence to keep them at bay, I feared to face my nightmares alone. After I had washed his body and wrapped him in winding cloths, leaving only his lean, handsome face exposed, I had sat beside him in the chapel through the dark, lonely hours of the night.

When the day arrived, grey and overcast yet again, I began giving my orders for the preparation of Wallace’s funeral rites. Onchu and Laird had objected to the particular form, but Robert Whitearm surprised me by his unwavering support.

“But milady, that’s not how we farewell our lords here!” Laird rose from the pew and gestured broadly with both hands. I remained in my seat beside Wallace’s still form and watched him. “Lord Wallace’s father lies in the castle graveyard, as does his father and his father before him, so on since the founding of the clan!”

“It is the way of Arkay,” Onchu added his protest. “We must return milord to the soil of his ancestors!”

“Wallace and I spoke of this many times,” I kept my voice steady against my grief. “He has expressed his desire to me. Unless I bore him a heir, he did not wish to be buried here. As long as the line ends with him -“ I paused, momentarily overwhelmed by my inability to bear him a child, even a daughter, who could carry on after him. “As long as the line ends with him, he wishes the Nord funeral, not the Breton.” I bowed my head. “He made me promise him.”

“But it’s not right!” Laird shouted, slamming his hands on the back of the pew before him. “It’s not tradition!”

“It is for Skyrim!” Robert rose from his seat on the opposite side and strode to stand behind me. “And milady is right, it is what milord Wallace wanted. He would be buried only if she bore him a child. If he died without issue -“ He stopped a moment. Laird turned his face away from us, his gaze moving to Onchu in appeal. “If he died without issue,” Robert resumed, his voice rougher than before, “he wanted a proper Nord burial, after the ways of his mother’s people.” He laid a hand on my right shoulder. “I go to carry out milord’s wishes, as milady has spoken. Shall either of you get in my way?”

Onchu regarded us silently, then shook his head. Laird scowled at us. “If you do not bury Wallace alongside his ancestors, how can he guard Cardonaccum?”

“He told me if he died the last of his line, it was time for someone else to guard the good folk here,” I answered his question.

“Who?” Laird challenged, tossing his flaxen hair back from his high forehead.

“We will see,” I answered wearily. Robert squeezed my shoulder and stepped away. I closed my eyes as he strode down the center aisle, past Laird and Onchu, toward the corridor leading to the main hall of the donjon. After a moment, Laird bowed curtly to me and departed after Robert.

Onchu moved to stand before me. “You are aware that following the Nord way will only upset the balance of things at Cardonaccum?”

I met his gaze. “The balance of things is a myth,” I said bitterly. “Why would a good man like my husband die, and leave behind a barren wife with no child to take his place? Doesn’t that unbalance things? Does it also mean that Arkay is absent in Skyrim?”

The priest regarded me with some surprise. “I am sorry to hear you speak such blasphemy,” he said finally. “I had counted you among the faithful.”

“Do you mean the naïve?” I shook my head. “You forget where I came from.” Onchu flinched from my steady gaze.

The priest’s voice trailed away. I looked down at Wallace’s visage, the bones jutting beneath the pale skin. Resting Thistlethorn against my hip, I reached down and laid my left palm over his chest in vain hope. There was nothing - the empty husk of his body lacked the strong vitality of the man I had known and loved for the past ten years.

Robert stepped to my side, Jannet just beyond him. The aged Breton carried an unlit torch. Her grim eyes met mine. When I nodded, she touched her finger to the torch head. A spark flared, then caught in the pitch-coated wood. Silently, flames dancing in unshed tears, she handed the torch to me.

I turned Thistlethorn over to Robert, then shoved the head of the torch into the pyre beneath Wallace’s bier. Constructed according to Nord practices, the neatly stacked wood caught immediately. As the flames crackled and spread, I watched Wallace through the heat-shimmer. His face remained empty, his chest did not move with breath.

Soon the fire engulfed his form, the winding-sheets turning black. A sudden fit of regret ran through me, and I moved toward the blaze. Robert’s large hand on my arm stopped me. I stood frozen, my heart consumed by those flames along with Wallace’s flesh.

The sun disappeared beyond the western sea, and with it the last of my hard-fought reserve. Grief slammed into my chest and stole my breath away. I fell to my knees beside the pyre, unheedful of the intense heat and the sparks flaring upwards. Jannet and Robert remained beside me as I watched the fire consume the last of milord Wallace.

Wracking sobs tore apart my flesh while his turned to ash. When the fire died down, fed only by embers, I could only weep. Lightning tore apart the night sky, and cold rain followed. The ground beneath me rapidly turned to mud. Yet Wallace’s pyre continued to burn sullenly, consuming the last of the wood and the flesh.

“Come, milady,” Jannet bent down to me. “It is done. Come inside, out of the rain.” When I resisted, Robert reached down and pulled me to my feet. Unable to stand against his quiet strength, I turned away and stumbled back to the castle.

The castle folk stood with bowed heads. As I passed them, they murmured their sorrows and sympathies to me. After them stood the crofters. Most of them said nothing, only stared at the northern horizon beyond Wallace’s funeral pyre.

Finally I reached the massed soldiers, the survivors of the battle that had killed Wallace. It was these men, wounded and whole, who had sung the dirge in his honor. I stopped and gazed at them, meeting each soldier’s eyes in turn. Many of them avoided my gaze, but I could see the grief that matched mine in each face. They followed Wallace into battle. Each man is responsible for his lord’s welfare. If Wallace died in spite of their loyalty, their bravery, what do they feel tonight?

I straightened up from Jannet’s supporting shoulder. “When our men leave for war,” the words came unbidden, “we wait and wonder if they will return. Sometimes they do, and sometimes they don’t. The ones that return can only honor the ones that don’t. That is all you can do for our lord. That is enough for me.”

Their leader, a seasoned veteran of border clashes, met my gaze. Then he slammed his left fist against his breastplate and bowed his head. “Milord Wallace!” His voice rang clear across the moor, echoed by the men ranged beyond him. “Milady Cora!” He didn’t lift his head, but held the salute. I blinked at the sentiment behind the salutation as his men followed suit without hesitation. They are making me Wallace’s successor? But I am not a Cardonaccum-born!

“Robert,” I turned to the castellan. “Please see to it these men have what they need.”

“Yes, milady,” Robert’s shaggy head nodded briefly. The soldiers parted in smart fashion to give me a clear path back to the donjon. As Jannet and I climbed the muddy path, I looked up to see a small clump of figures, spiked by the thistlemen’s halberds, standing outside the postern gate. I recognized the golden Dragon on Talos’s cuirass and glanced at Robert.

“He requested to witness Lord Wallace’s funeral,” the castellan answered my unspoken question, his voice barely audible above the rain. “I saw no reason to deny him.”

“And no reason to ask me first?” I kept my tone level as we continued upwards.

“I didn’t want to disturb milady at her vigil,” Robert remained calm. “I made certain to set extra thistlemen on them.”

Talos bowed his dark head as we drew near. His companions followed suit. As they kept their poses, he lifted his face and met my gaze. “I hope the Lady will keep her promise.”

Robert growled, and Jannet muttered under her breath. I felt my own brows rise at Talos’s impertinent words. His face remained impassive as I stopped before him, looking up into those shadowed eyes. “Soon,” I answered.

“Very well.” He bowed again. “I should advise you that your time is limited, Lady.”

“What do you mean?” Robert stepped protectively between us. Talos did not take his gaze from mine.

“Merely that my Legions have their orders.” His tone matched his expression. His companions stiffened warily as Robert drew his immense bulk up.

“Are you threatening milady?” his growl was louder this time. I became aware of the soldiers behind us growing tense, their armor and weapons clinking in the darkness.

Without taking my eyes off Talos, I placed my hand on Robert’s arm. “No, he is not making any threats,” I said clearly enough for Wallace’s soldiers to hear. “Merely stating something he knows. Much like you, Robert, telling me it is raining and I should get inside before I catch bloodlung.” I gave Talos a smile I did not feel. “Thank you, General. I shall keep my promise. Just not tonight.”

Talos nodded slowly, the nod of a king to his vassal. I felt the muscles in my jaw clench at the implied insult. “Very well, Lady Cora. In the morning then.”

I kept the smile on my face, though I felt anger rising behind my gaze. “In the morning,” my voice matched the chill rain.

A/N: The dirge at the beginning of this chapter is "Song of Death," by the Scottish poet Robert Burns. This and many more can be found http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1279/1279-h/1279-h.htm#link2H_4_0356

Posted by: ThatSkyrimGuy Jul 28 2013, 11:20 PM

This was so good, I don't know where to begin. Your ability to set a scene is fantastic. From the dirge at the beginning, to the argument about what type of funeral, to the funeral itself, was all riviting and powerful. As a reader, nothing is more satisfying than feeling those emotions along with the characters in the story.

When I nodded, she touched her finger to the torch head. A spark flared, then caught in the pitch-coated [censored]. Silently, flames dancing in unshed tears, she handed the torch to me. -- It is unfortunate that the site censor chewed out this word. In the context, I assume it started with an "f" and ended in a "t". But this is a minor thing when compared to the sheer quality of the read.

And we end with a not-so-veiled threat from Talos, which Cora handled very well in her new found position.

Looking forward to more...

Posted by: McBadgere Jul 29 2013, 04:59 AM

Proper excellence!!...

I absolutely love Jennet and Robert, their actions throughout this story have been absolutely brilliant...

From the flashback to Cora's early days, to the comforting hug in this last episode, Jennet has been absolutely amazing to read...Put me in mind of Dame Eileen Atkins' character in Cranford...No, I don't have a link...Either her or Dame Maggie Smith...Or Granny Weatherwax... ...

Aaaamywho...I like Roberts, they're decent chaps...Always loyal and hardworking...Yes they are!!... ...

I love all the characters in this story...Even Broc the naughty!!...At least Cora has the wits - even in grief - to see what he's after...Naughty man!!...

Yes, the hint of Highland Scotland is there from the title and that may be colouring my feel of the thing (Also having spent many a holiday there may be helping somewhat)...Um...Yes, you say it's not specifically so, but you've painted it so well, it may as well be... ...So far, magic aside, there's not much to say it's not set near one of the lochs up there... ...

I'm loving this story so much I feel I have to apologise for it... ...

An absolute nice one!!...

And an hearty applause to boot!!...*Applauds most heartily*...See!!...





EDIT!!!!...How in the Gods' name did I miss the funeral one?... ...Amazing stuff...

I loved the argument about tradition and funerals...And that Cora was having none of it...*Applauds*...

Yes, Talos is pretty epic...

Amazing writing...Sorry I missed it earlier...I've no idea...*Shrug*....Sorry...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Jul 29 2013, 07:49 AM

So far, this has been an amazing read. I'm loving t, the characters and the way the plot is shaping up, especially Cora; she's an engaging and strong protagonist who's well developed even in just these few chapters and it makes the story an excellent read, and I'm genuinely intrigued and invested in what happens next. The setting feels well fleshed out and realistic (and the Scottish touches are nice to see), and it's very interesting indeed to see Talos of all people getting involved with this.

I'm hooked, and I'm looking forwards to more, especially to see what Talos has planned. Can't be anything good, I don't think...

Posted by: Acadian Jul 29 2013, 03:33 PM

A fitting and well-described tribute to the fallen Wallace. Robert continues to show his mettle as a valued asset. Yes, Cora is right to place Wallace’s specific and spoken wishes above the castle’s traditions. It speaks highly of the castle’s returning forces that they willingly accept the rulership of Lady Cora.

The exchange with General Talos was ominous, hinting at the vast forces and power he no doubt wields.

Posted by: ghastley Jul 29 2013, 04:00 PM

I was surprised to find that Wallace was a Nord at the head of a Breton clan, or at least one with Breton heritage. The matrilineal race thing in TES makes patriarchies's succession confusing, anyway. Since you'd already established Cora's smaller stature than her Nord retainers, I was expecting them all to be of that race and tradition. But there's no reason that they have to match, either. It works just as well this way.

Also interesting was the point that Wallace had no heir from two marriages, but Cora blames herself for this "failure".

Her recognition that Talos is just speaking plainly about his standing orders, and not making a threat, is telling too. She knows he's already set in motion things he might not be able to stop.

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 29 2013, 11:07 PM

A very intriguing beginning, as we learn that Wallace was a Nord by birth thanks to his mother. I wonder if the Nordic Way is the classic viking funeral at sea? I suppose I shall see in a few more paragraphs.

I also noted your description of the sea being in the west. That surprised me. I had been thinking that Cardonaccum was in northern Cyrodiil. But that places it in western High Rock. No biggie though, just not what I expected.

It looks like Cora has the support of the surviving soldiers. That is a good sign. Now that Wallace is in his grave, I have been half-expecting the inevitable bid for power by someone, anyone, who thinks they would make a suitable Lord.

And finally General Talos shows the steel gauntlet under what has been so far his velvet glove. I have been expecting that too.

Posted by: Grits Jul 30 2013, 08:15 PM

I particularly liked the exchange between Cora and Talos. She recognized that he was telling her something she needed to know, demonstrating judgment beyond Robert’s.

Talos nodded slowly, the nod of a king to his vassal. I felt the muscles in my jaw clench at the implied insult. “Very well, Lady Cora. In the morning then.”
Nice. I would expect General Talos to communicate that he was allowing the delay, despite his voluntary prisoner status. This is an interesting dance.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Aug 4 2013, 07:01 PM

@SkyGuy: Thanks for catching that nit! I went back in and fixed it. I'm so glad you are enjoying this story as much as you are.

@McB: Never, ever apologize for loving a story so much that you feel you have to! I'm happy that this has become one of your guilty pleasures. May it continue to be so. Yes, I love Robert and Jannet - they're pretty awesome folks in their own right, and we will see more of that awesomeness in posts to come. I have kept Scotland (and some of Wales, too) firmly in my mind as I write this story, and I'm glad that you pick up on that. It's important to me that locals recognize their own homes or places they are very familiar with and not some stereotype image of the place.

@Official Condiment: How nice to see you here! I'm flattered that you think this story is worth reading, and that you are enjoying the characters so much. As for what Talos has planned, that will become apparent in upcoming posts, don't worry!

@Acadian: Thank you, for picking up on the soldiers' acceptance of Cora as the rightful successor to their fallen leader. As we will see, not everyone feels the same way. But Cora would have a much more difficult time holding on to her position and her place at Cardonaccum without the support of those soldiers.

@ghastley: According to the Lore, the Breton race is actually a mixture of Nedic, Altmer, and (in later years) the Nord races. I wanted to show that by the end of the Second Era we have a true melting pot in this corner of High Rock. The matrilineal race thing that is part of the game kind of drives me nuts, as it acknowledges no input from the fathers. I actually see Wallace as being from a Breton father and Nord mother, while Cora's father has a strong streak of Altmer in his makeup (which somehow skipped Cora herself, as did her mother's Nordic height). As for the issue of childbearing, in the old days, women were typically blamed for the absence of heirs, even when men are shooting blanks! So Cora is not alone in blaming herself here.

@SageRose: I think you are getting very close to the location of Cardonaccum. Yup, it's High Rock. Move up and a little bit right on the map and I think you have it! I have had a very difficult time finding a good map of High Rock that is as detailed as the one for Cyrodiil (or even Skyrim), so I had to fill in quite a few blanks here. As for the inevitable bid for power, you will see one soon!

@Grits: Interesting dance, indeed! It is flavored by Cora's having seen this same man in her nightmares for quite some time. I hope you continue to find this interesting as we progress.

The story so far: Wallace has been funerealed, and Talos has reminded Cora of her promise to hear him out. But can Cora find time for her grief yet?

*******************************************
Chapter Six

“Thank you, milady,” Rodric smiled hesitantly at me as I handed him the steaming goblet. “Larena has gone to fetch the boys from the bailey.”

“That’s all right,” I assured him. “I just stopped in to see how our healer is treating you. You are comfortable, I trust?”

He took a sip of the wine and nodded. His limbs appeared more normal, with the right arm and left leg straight once more and encased in splints. “Siné? Yes, she is good at her task.” He regarded me thoughtfully. “Is it true? Milord is burned, not buried?”

I sat down beside the bed. “It is what milord wanted,” I said. “I know it’s hard to believe, but -“

He stopped me with a head shake. “I know that’s what he wanted,” he stated flatly. “I wasn’t sure if you would do it, though -“ His voice trailed off. His eyes sought the deep red of the wine as he sighed. “Milord loved you, you know. He didn’t think it could happen a second time, especially after the way Lady Elspeth died.”

I turned my face away at the reminder of my predecessor. The woman had died fifteen years before I came to Wallace. However, when I first arrived at Cardonaccum, I could sense her presence everywhere I turned in this donjon. Her portrait still hung in Wallace’s study, though after a week it had disappeared. I never asked where it went, but I still remembered her appearance very well. She was beautiful, with a graceful neck and round shoulders shown off to good effect by golden curls piled high on the top of her head. I had doubted that Wallace would ever love me after having that ethereal vision for a wife.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/1a/Dicksee_-_Beatrice.jpg

“I’m sorry to remind you of her,” Rodric’s voice brought me back to the present. “And I believe most of us were unfairly comparing you to her when you first came. You’re so different, it was difficult not to.” He shifted clumsily to place the goblet on the table next to his right shoulder. “But my wife and I soon realized that there is no comparison.”

“Of course not,” I answered, smiling to put him at ease. “I’m not beautiful like Lady Elspeth was. I don’t sew or embroider as well as she did. I can’t sing or play the clarsach. I -“

“You understand politics,” Rodric interrupted me. “And you make difficult decisions on your own.” He smiled again at my surprise. “Milord told me how he found you reading one of his military books rather than Lady Elspeth’s romances. Your head is firmly rooted in Nirn, not up in the clouds after flights of fancy. And Robert respects your mind.” He shook his head. “And yesterday, when my wife was so frightened, you took care of me. And with your husband dead in the chapel, you still made sure I got the care I needed. You made sure the wounded that came in after us saw the healer. And you did the difficult work - tending milord’s body. I could see you were heartbroken, I can still see it.”

I looked down at my folded hands resting in my lap, blinking back the tears. Rodric laid his left hand over mine. “That’s just part of the reason milord loved you, Lady Cora.” His fingers tightened in comfort. “I want you to know this: I believe he came to love you more than he ever loved Lady Elspeth.”

I met Rodric’s gaze. He looked back at me, his round face honest. I managed to smile again. “Thank you, very much, Sir Rodric. It means a great deal to hear this from you.”

“I know it’s meager comfort, especially now,” Rodric said. “And I also want you to know that he told me and Sir Laird of his funeral wishes. I understand Sir Laird tried to talk you out of it.”

I stared at Rodric. Laird knew Wallace’s last wish, and tried to deny him? But I thought he was a man my husband trusted! I took a deep breath and nodded. “He did.”

“And you will regret that you didn’t listen to me or Onchu, milady,” Laird’s voice reached us from the doorway. I glanced over my shoulder to see the older knight shaking the rain off his cloak. Onchu stood behind him, dripping onto the stone floor. Laird’s blue gaze shifted to Rodric. “And how are you, old friend?”

“Better than when we arrived here,” Rodric answered. I caught the narrowing in his gaze as another person entered the room. It was Sir Broc. The young knight bowed to Rodric with a pleasant expression that reminded me of a spider sitting in the center of its web.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Laird declared, stepping to Rodric’s cot opposite me. “Milady, we need to talk.” He made a circling gesture that included all the men in the room. “It’s important for all of us, for Cardonaccum.”

I remained motionless against the sudden unease that moved through my body. Why do I feel like these men are ganging up on me? I glanced at Rodric, but his eyes were on the counterpane across his lap. “Very well, Sir Laird, what is it?”

“We have been loyal to Lord Wallace,” Laird began, clasping his hands behind his back and tossing back his leonine mane. I leaned back in the chair and turned my head to face him squarely, keeping my hands still in my lap. “He has never had reason to doubt our fealty.”

Robert entered the room and silently moved to stand behind me, facing the others across Rodric’s bed. Laird scowled at him, but did not protest his presence.

“Of course, he never did,” I spoke to distract him from the castellan and to bring him back to the conversation he had begun.

“Even now, we continue to be loyal to milord’s ideals,” Laird continued. “But now Cardonaccum is at a crossroads. With no heir to carry on after him,” his blue eyes conveyed that it was somehow my fault that ten years of marriage hadn’t brought forth a son. I didn’t disagree. “With no heir, we must make a decision about the future of this holding.” Now his haughty expression softened slightly. “There is little doubt in anyone’s mind that milord loved you, Lady Cora. It is also the general agreement that you have been an outstanding Lady for Cardonaccum. But a woman cannot command fighting men alone. She cannot defend a rich holding against the depredations of neighboring robber barons. She cannot take to the field in battle.”

I drew breath to protest, but Robert’s hand on my shoulder stopped me. Instead, I remained quiet, my eyes on Wallace’s oldest sworn knight. What about Alessia? my mind snapped tartly. Or Baroness Vaina of Lainlyn? I remembered to keep my face neutral.

Laird seemed vaguely disappointed by my lack of response. “No one is proposing to disown you as Lady of Cardonaccum, of course,” he continued, his tone gaining in fervor. “Rather, it is felt that you should remain in this position while one of us step forward as Lord of Cardonaccum and assume the responsibilities of defense and protection.” He bowed stiffly to me. “As the oldest and most senior in milord’s service, I bring years of experience and knowledge of the surrounding lands that will be most useful for this holding.”

“Ah, but Sir Laird would not rule so long,” now Broc stepped forward. “And of course the holding would pass to his sons, and so out of Wallace’s line. But I,” he laid a beringed hand on his chest, “am young, healthy, and plan to live a long life. Better yet, I am as yet unmarried,” now a predatory gleam passed through his dark eyes, “we could join together and raise heirs that will continue Wallace’s line.”

I suppressed the involuntary shiver at the thought of being Broc’s wife. “Milord’s line ended with him, not me,” I answered. Broc shook his head.

“I beg to differ, milady,” he countered. “Lord Wallace and I are distantly related.”

“But not enough to lay familial claim to Cardonaccum!” Laird growled. “You are related through the sire line, not the dam!”

“Isn’t it ironic,” I said quietly, effectively halting the brewing argument, “that traditionally women are not considered strong enough to lead soldiers in war, yet blood inheritance is passed down from the mother?” As the two knights gawped at me, I shifted my gaze to Onchu, standing in Laird’s shadow. “And what of you, priest of Arkay? What is your opinion?”

He stepped forward, his double chins waddling with each stride. He cast a challenging gaze at me. “Cardonaccum has thrived for so many generations because of its close observance to Arkay’s teachings. Balance has been observed for hundreds of years, Death for Life, Life for Death; Feast and Famine, Flowers and Thistles, Sheep and Wolves, so on through the centuries.” His beady eyes glittered in the candlelight as he lifted a hand in proclamation. “If we allow a barefoot Witch, an unbeliever, to succeed our most devout Lord Wallace, Cardonaccum shall be abandoned by Arkay, mark my words!” His chubby finger stabbed the shadows lining the ceiling.

So now he is my enemy? I felt my jaw tighten at his condemnation. Instead of validating his oration with a protest, I turned my gaze to Rodric. “And you, my good Sir Rodric?”

He struggled into an upright position. I leaned forward to set the pillows more comfortably at his back. He glared at Onchu, then turned his gaze to Robert, still at his post behind me. I noticed that he pointedly ignored his fellow knights. The knot of tension that had grown within me eased slightly. They don’t agree among themselves. Can I use that to advantage?

“I am not a very intelligent man,” he began somberly. “I am blessed with a strong arm and a loyal heart, with a lovely wife and three wonderful children. I lack the ambition the others possess,” now he sent them an unreadable glance. “But I have been fortunate to have had the opportunity to serve milord Wallace for the past thirty years. Not as long nor in as distinguished a manner as Sir Laird, true, but well enough to satisfy our lord.” He nodded at the elder knight. “And well enough for Lord Wallace to confide a few things in me.” Now he met my gaze. “Enough so that I believe you should follow your own counsel as to what is best for Cardonaccum.”

“Sir Rodric!” Laird snapped, but clamped his mouth shut when I glanced at him. I considered him, his words, his manner towards me. He’s always been deferential to Wallace, despite being older. Wallace held his unwavering respect all these years. What was it Wallace told me about Sir Laird? “I trust the man deeply and implicitly. I know he is intensely loyal to me. But I can’t say the same of his loyalty and respect toward my wife. His hidebound ways prevent him from seeing ladies as being better than housekeepers and broodmares.” He sighed. “If I should die first, don’t trust Sir Laird to support you in any role other than that of Lady or even a plainwoman.”

Now I regarded Broc. The youngest of the three knights, he was by far the handsomest. Yet there was an edge of insatiable hunger about him, a hint of cruelty that gave me unease whenever I had to spend time around him. It didn’t help that he had a disconcerting habit of making inappropriate advances toward me when he felt no one was looking. So far I had found it easy to fend him off - he had a great fear of Wallace’s power over him. But with my husband gone, who would protect me? “I tolerate Sir Broc only for his father’s and his younger brother’s sake. Once little Tywin is of age, I intend to displace Broc and knight the young boy in his place. Tywin takes after his father and would be a good man at my side, and at yours.” And I intend to carry out Wallace’s plan for Northside Manor, if I can.

And Sir Rodric, what he said about himself mirrored Wallace’s opinion of him. A good man to have backing you, much like Robert Whitearm, I told myself.

“Well?” Laird interrupted my thoughts. “Do you agree, milady?”

I took a deep breath. “What of you, Robert?”

“You already know where I stand, milady,” his gruff voice steadied my heart. I rose to my feet.

“It is getting late,” I locked gazes with Laird. “And Sir Rodric needs his rest. I shall consider what each of you have said, and give all of you my answer tomorrow.” After I meet with General Talos, a little voice whispered. I had learned to listen to that voice long ago. Though the thought of holding audience with the man of my nightmares frightened me, I had made a promise and I must keep it. “We will meet again here at noon.” I turned to Rodric and smiled at him. “I will find your wife and send her back in to you.”

Posted by: Kazaera Aug 4 2013, 07:23 PM

Oh man. I was kind of expecting... something along these lines, but this is going further than I expected. Wallace's ashes are barely cold and already it's "you have girl cooties that make you unfit to rule!" I love that Cora thought of Alessia! And the fact that she didn't immediately start arguing but instead stayed quiet and let them dig themselves deeper let them say their piece says a lot about her personality, I think.

I like that you made them trace descent through the mother - I've actually been spending some thought on what Dunmer inheritance patterns and family lines might be like for Adryn, and am glad someone else has decided to explore options other than the patrilineal.

That single line would've been enough to make me fall in love with Rodric - would've been, if I hadn't already done so when he talked about all the things Cora had to recommend her over Elspeth. Perfect reassurance at such a hard time for Cora. I buy Laird as loyal, but a hidebound sexist who'd probably make sure he limited Cora's influence to the proper 'ladylike' spheres if she took him up on it, not out of malice but because he honestly thinks that's best. In the meantime, Broc just creeps me out and I'm getting very worried about what plans he's hatching... and what he'll do when they're thwarted.

I look forward to seeing what cat Talos will put among these pigeons...

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 4 2013, 08:04 PM

Wow, Elspeth was a knock-out!

Sir Roderic's talk has both shed quite a bit of light upon the previous Lady of the Castle, and been a welcome boon to Cora's spirits. It was nice to have someone bluntly come out and say how she has kept Cardonaccum going during this crisis.

he also provides some disturbing information about Sir Laird. I wonder if he will be the one Cora has to worry about usurping power?

“Even now, we continue to be loyal to milord’s ideals,”
There is is. The alarm bells are going off at those very carefully chosen words.

What about Alessia?
I keep wondering about that too. The first empire was founded by a woman, but the only way a woman can become empress of Cyrodiil is when there is no penis near the throne.

Wow, just when I thought it could not get worse, Broc thoroughly creeped me out. Off with their heads I say!

yet blood inheritance is passed down from the mother?
I have always thought this should be the case in Tamriel, given that children are always the same race as the mother, not the father.

Like Kaz, I thought Cora was clever in not committing herself to anything just yet. Rather she drew out all of the knights and the priest and got them to lay their cards on the table. Now she knows who she can trust and who she cannot. Talos is going to complicate matters. But on the other hand, he might be just the thing to use against Laird and Broc as well. So long as one of them does not cut a deal with Talos first...

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Aug 5 2013, 01:42 AM

The whole chapter was great, but this line...it made me happy.

This chapter was an absolutely riveting read, and I enjoyed seeing Cora trying to deal with those three; her decision to not yet play her hand and see if she could play them off against each other is a smart one, though I wouldn't be surprised if one of them (*Cough*SirBroc!*cough*) might try going behind her back with Talos.

And I'm intrigued to see what the general has to say, as well. With the amount of intrigue going around this looks like this has the potential to be as fun a Machiavelli-fest as Game of Thrones is, and I'll be fascinated to see how Cora navigates this maze.

Posted by: McBadgere Aug 5 2013, 06:05 AM

*Applauds*...

Ye Gods I loved that...Politics...Sexism...Both complete idiocy personally...I'm with Sir Roderic here, I've got a strong arm and a clever wife...I stay out of that sort of thing...

Um...

Excellent story, I love it...I may have mentioned... ...

Like I said, even the most despicable characters are excellently realised...Onchu is particularly brilliant!!...

Looking forward to so much more...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Posted by: ghastley Aug 5 2013, 03:20 PM

This tells me she knows what she's doing. And the fact that they all acknowledge the decision to be hers to make tells me something, too.

She'll talk to Talos before she speaks to them again, so she'll know what cards she holds.

Posted by: Acadian Aug 5 2013, 03:24 PM

While still whirling from the funeral and ominous presence of General Talos inside her walls, Cora is now confronted by internal dissention from her own knights – some of whom question Wallace’s judgment now that he is now longer present.

Roderic’s words before the other knights entered the chamber were welcome indeed, and could not have come at a better time.

I think Cora was wise to keep her own counsel for the moment, while she absorbed input from others. A night of rest to ponder then, as she reminds herself, a meeting with Talos.

No pressure, Cora.

Posted by: Captain Hammer Aug 5 2013, 04:32 PM

Well, I am all caught up, and happy that I have done so.

At first I was confused about the timing of this story and its locale, but upon seeing Wallace's possessions returned by none other than GENERAL TALOS STORMCROWN, DRAGON OF THE NORTH!!!, immediately established the setting.

I've always wanted to see more of Tiber's unification of Tamriel, and this hits the spot nicely.

Okay, enough of me gushing fan-boyishly over my second-favorite Dragonborn. On to the story.

I keep reading "Lady Cora" but all I can think about is Penelope without a Telemachus to raise. And of course, Wallace is dead instead of being lost at sea, but I'm still being brought back to this. She's smart and determined and has to deal with a pack of dogs too eager by halves to devour the estate for themselves. They are far too interested in the scraps of what they couldn't save to see that there's a pack of wolves in their midst led by an alpha with more competence and a sense of honor than most of Cardonaccum's residents combined.

I hope the others realize the poor quality of their judgement by the time Cora has finished her meeting with GENERAL TALOS STORMCROWN, DRAGON OF THE NORTH!!!, tomorrow morning.

Posted by: Grits Aug 8 2013, 04:27 PM

I like how Cora’s insecurities run through this segment in a way supporting some of the knights’ opinions. On the one hand she thinks of Alessia, but she also wonders how she’ll fend off Broc’s advances without her husband to protect her. She still talks about not sewing as well as the pretty blonde who died twenty-five years ago, but she has vivid memories of Wallace’s very specific advice about her future advisors. (I imagine that with the age difference they both expected he would predecease her.) All made very interesting by the presence of General Talos in the salt room. Their local drama has higher stakes.

It’s a lot of fun when the bad guys have a valid point and the heroine makes me want to reach out and smack her forehead. Very engagaing!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Aug 11 2013, 05:15 PM

@Kazaera: Yes, Cora's choice to withhold her own counsel is very revealing of her personality. I hope to show more of how her personality was shaped by her early experiences and how much her marriage to Wallace changed her life and her self-perception. Old doubts will continue to plague her from time to time. And yes, Rodric, like Robert, is one of those men who just have a gift for seeing things as they really are. I too, love the old guy - he is one of those characters I keep returning to just because I enjoy his interactions with Cora and the others. I also think you are not too far off in your assessment of Laird and Broc.

@SubRosa: Yes, Lady Elspeth was gorgeous! I was searching Pre-Raphealite paintings, and came across this one. She just looked at me and said "I am she who came before . . ." I wrote the description before I found the portrait, so sheer serendipity ruled the day here. I always thought the game was confusing in its treatment of gender relations - there are plenty of women in what would be considered non-traditional roles IRL - smiths, guard captains, adventurers, and battle mages, yet the TES history shows scant evidence of female rulers, and in TES IV itself, we have only one Countess who did not come to her position due to the death of a husband. And the Ruby Throne is handed down from father to heir, not from mother. So I wanted to explore this a little bit here. And I think Talos has his own mind in the matter of Cardonaccum politics.

@Officer Condiment (my favorite one, BTW): Well, I started writing this one before I read the first volume of Game of Thrones, so no, I suspect it won't be so Machiavellian as that series. It's funny but I never continued reading, even though I found the first volume quite enthralling. I think it's because my favorite characters were killed at the beginning and I just didn't want to read any more. Besides, I hate long series (I should talk, though . . .).

@McB: Glad you enjoyed how I'm developing the villains here. I've always felt that the bad guys were just as interesting as the good ones, and I love stories that tell us how the bad characters turned out, well, bad. They have motivations just as our protagonists do, and seeing what drives them (other than the stereotypical desire to take over the world mwuahahaha) just makes them more real and interesting, IMHO.

@ghastley: Wallace has taught Cora well. We are now beginning to see just how well. So are her knights. And yes, she will talk to Talos before returning to her knights with her decision.

@Acadian: No pressure, indeed!

@BamBam: I'm with you in my fan-girl-ness! I loved reading about Talos Stormcrown - all the stories about his exploits and accomplishments and the different versions of how he came to be Emperor etc etc etc just makes it fun to tease out the man behind the legends. Talos will always be my favorite Dragonborn, simply because in my mind, he is just how the Dragonborn ought to be. It's interesting that though the Amulet of Kings have been passed down from Dragonborn to Dragonborn (I would hope), none of them have measured up to the standards set by Talos (except maybe Martin Septim). Will Onchu, Laird and Broc realize the the severity of their underestimation of this tiny woman from the Reaches before it's too late? Will Talos also make the same mistake? Read on!

@Grits: Don't you hate it when the "heroine" submits to society's definition of a "real" woman? However, I suspect that you will find Cora is not prone to such weaknesses. Though she remains plagued by self-doubts, I think we will see her find her own way and stick to it.

The story so far: Cora now has a clear idea of where her knights and priest stands regarding her assumption of the rule of Cardonaccum. Now she begins preparing for her meeting with General Talos.

****************************
Chapter Seven

Niall poured the steaming mug of strong tea and set it on the desk before me. I looked up from the ledgers he had provided as he stepped back. “Is this everything?” I asked him. He nodded and set the teapot down on the nearby table.

“Everything from the past five years,” he said. “If you want to go further back, let me know and I will recover the older books from the archives.” He returned to the desk and gestured toward the green books. “Those are concerning consumables - meat, drink, spices, salt, and so on.” He touched the stack of blue volumes with an index finger. “And these have to do with durables - fabric and clothing, crockery, metalware having to do with the running of the castle. And these,” he indicated the brown books, “have to do with the stables, livestock, and their produce.”

“And these red ones?” I asked, laying my hand on the stack of thick volumes.

“Those are from the manors and crofts - income from wool, mining, fishing, and so on.” Niall did not meet my surprised gaze. “And the black ones have to do with the soldiers - training, weaponry, armor, and all that.”

“Those are the Lord’s responsibilities,” I leaned back in the high-backed chair. Now the lean steward met my eyes.

“Now they are yours, as well.” He caught the flicker in my gaze. “Aye, we heard what Sir Laird proposed to you last night. The whole castle’s talking about it.”

Jannet straightened up from stoking the fire in the hearth. “Ach, that’s right!” She moved to stand beside Niall. “And we’ll have you know, milady, that we consider you Lord and Lady both right proper!”

I reached up to the fall of black hair that cascaded over my left shoulder as I gazed out the study window. “I am not certain Sir Laird sees it that way,” I began.

“Nonsense!” Jannet snapped. “That old fart’s too ambitious for his own good. Overreaching his station, he is! You wouldn’t be the first Lady to carry on after the death of the Lord, that much is certain!” She frowned at me, concern emerging in her canny gaze. “And that young Sir Broc, he’s no head for administration, or leading with anything other than his dagger! If I could tell you the things I’ve heard about that one -"

“That’s not for a proper lady to hear,” Niall made a chopping motion with his hand. He turned back to me. “All night the castle folk have been coming to me, begging me to tell you one thing.” Jannet nodded vigorously, grey locks floating loose from her severe bun. “You have the support of us all. We trust you to know what’s best.”

I lowered my left hand to the desk and stared at Niall. “Well,” I said finally. “Thank you for that vote of confidence. I haven’t yet decided -"

“We know you’ll do the right thing,” Niall smiled thinly at me. “And we know you’ll only make your decision when you’ve considered all the options.” He bowed to me and turned away.

Jannet winked at me and made to follow the steward. “Just a moment,” I called after them. They stopped and glanced back. “Please have Robert come to me when he is done with morning rounds.”

“As you wish, milady,” Niall said.

After the door snicked closed behind them, I leaned back in the chair. So the castle folk support me? Does that mean I can stand up to Sir Laird, Sir Broc and that odious Onchu? Sir Rodric has stated he would support me, that means he’ll also give me his men should I have need of a fighting force. What of the soldiers sworn to Wallace? Are they of Laird’s ilk? Or more like Robert? I closed my eyes for a moment, giving in to the weariness in my bones. I had not slept at all for the second night in a row, afraid of facing my nightmares alone.

The weak autumn sun broke through the chill morning gloom and roused me from a fitful nap. I sat up and gulped the tea, now cooling. Can’t fall asleep now! I have so much work to do, and think about. Then there’s my meeting with the General.

A knock on the door pulled me out of my perusal of the amount of copper mined last year. “Please come in,” I called. Robert entered the study, and immediately filled it with his presence. He paused just within the doorway.

“Please, sit,” I waved at the upholstered chairs in front of the hearth. As he moved toward the nearer one, I rose and joined him. His chosen seat creaked beneath his bulk as he seated himself gingerly. “Robert, I’d like to thank you for the support you’ve shown me these past couple of days,” I began.

“It’s the best way to honor Lord Wallace,” he said gruffly. “Milord was my friend all those years ago, and has remained so, though I did not deserve it.” He looked down at his callused hands. “It’s the least I can do for the debt I owe him.”

“Then I shall be ever in your debt, Robert,” I said. “And I trust you, of all the men here, to tell me the truth as it is. But there is one thing that I must make clear, if we are to move forward.”

Robert met my gaze. “What is it, milady?”

“You made the decision to allow General Talos to witness the funeral of the man he vanquished. You did so without asking me.” I held up my hand when he drew a deep breath. “I understand why you didn’t, and I appreciate it. But please understand, if I am to take Wallace’s place, you must not be seen to be undermining my authority.”

Robert leaned his head back, his eyes blinking in consternation. “Undermine your authority? Never!”

I smiled at his vehemence. “Robert, I know you are accustomed to thinking of me as the Lady you are sworn to protect. But let me ask you this: If it had been Lord Wallace sitting vigil over my dead body, would you have made such a decision on your own?”

“Of course not!” Robert shook his head. “The Lord must know of all, be aware of every little thing at all times -" His voice trailed off and his eyes widened in sudden comprehension. “Of course, you are the Lord now.” He turned his face away. “I am sorry, forgive me.”

“Of course I forgive you, Robert,” I responded, reaching across the small table to pat his left hand reassuringly. “After all, you acted as you saw fit. I would suggest that in the future, you come to me as you once came to Lord Wallace. If I am to take his place, that is the way things must be.”

He took my hand in his, warming my fingers with his callused palm. “Of course, milady.” He nodded to himself. “Lord Wallace was right, you understand much more than you let on.”

“I learned much from Lord Wallace,” I answered, leaning back in my chair. “Tell me of the Legions. Do we know what they are up to?”

“I received a report last night that they have camped at Thistle Downs.” Robert replied. “That’s only a few hours’ march from here.”

I rose to my feet and paced to the tall windows that looked south into the warm sunlight. Robert rose as well, but remained standing beside the chairs. “That must be what General Talos meant when he said our time is limited.” I took a deep breath. “They must have standing orders to march if he does not return to them by a certain time.”

Robert was silent for a moment. “That sounds very likely, milady,” he said finally, and I could hear new respect in his voice. “It probably explains why he didn’t exactly surrender.”

“But why would he come here himself?” I asked. “He was victorious at the river, why did he come here alone but for a few companions, and why did he allow you to take him prisoner? Returning Lord Wallace’s horse and gear is just an excuse.”

“And a risk,” Robert agreed. “Like you said to him, what’s to stop you from using those emblems to rally the survivors around you and continue resisting Talos’s Legions?”

“He wants something.” I turned my back to the sun. “But what? We’re a small holding, nothing like Wayrest or Daggerfall -“

“We’re one of many, it’s true,” Robert agreed. “But look at where we’re located. At the foot of the Wrothgarians. On the other side are the Western Reaches.”

“And we sit at the foot of the lowest pass,” I nodded to myself. “But why would General Talos be concerned about them? Most of their mages were killed at Sancre Tor last winter.” My father and brother among them, though there’s little love lost between us.

“He can’t possibly think that the Reachmen would strike at him now?” Robert ran his fingers through his beard. “Winter’s coming on, and those passes are already impassable from the snow.”

I drew myself up to my fullest diminutive height. “The morning is wearing on,” I said. “It’s time I spoke to General Talos.”

“Must you do so?” Robert regarded me dubiously. “What can he tell you that is so important?”

“Exactly,” I answered. “What does he have to say to me that he would come here virtually unguarded? And his Legions? What are their standing orders? What if they start rampaging through Cardonaccum? We don’t have the men to stop them, do we?”

“I would have to check with Enrick, but I don’t think so.”

“Enrick?” I repeated the unfamiliar name. “That’s Wallace’s second-in-command of the forces, isn’t he?”

“Aye,” Robert nodded confirmation. “The one who swore fealty to you last night.”

I made my decision. “Very well, Robert. Have Enrick post every whole man on the walls of the bailey. Send outriders down the road and up on the moor to watch for movement. Once that’s done, bring General Talos to me. I would hear what he has to say.”

“Milady,” Robert bowed his acquiescence. “I would advise that you don’t meet with him alone.”

“Of course not,” I answered. “That’s why I want you present.” I paced away from the window to the study desk. “Naturally he would want to bring his companions with. Allow him only one, the others will have to remain in the salt room.”

“As you wish, milady.”

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 11 2013, 07:24 PM

The castle folk being on Cora's side helps. At least she has a base of people she can trust. But at some point I am certain it is still going to come down pure military force. That makes Laird and Broc dangerous foes.

And Sir Robert is going to be a key player to any military solution Cora arrives at. With Roderic out of action he is the only knight she can really count on right now. I see that even as she is taking over the bookkeeping, she is also gently making sure that he is not only on her side, but reminding him who is in charge. This makes it plain that she will not back down to Laird or Broc as well. Here we see her very clearly taking the reins of leadership. Good on her!

Thanks to the little geography lesson now I have a better idea of where Cardonaccum is, somewhere near the Crypt of Hearts it would seem, since the sea is to the west.

Enrick, there is a new name. Hopefully Cora will be able to count upon him as well as she can Robert.

Now it is finally to meet Talos and see what he is up to. That was a clever idea of Cora to put all of the fighting men on duty, so that he will see them arrayed for a fight while he is brought to meet her.

Posted by: jack cloudy Aug 11 2013, 09:23 PM

Still not caught up yet. (yes, I'm slow.)

What really amazes me is that you take a funeral and turn it into a massive melting pot of conflicting traditions, powerplays, political affiliation, war-logistics and good old fashioned personal conflicts. I love it.


Talos' involvement is interesting as well. He wants something from Cardonaccum, and he works to accomplish it in two ways. First he returns Lord Wallace's arms and horse as a gesture of goodwill. Then he makes the veiled threat that his forces will move in to finish the job they started on the battlefield unless something happens. (that something being what Talos wants) Of course, a commanding presence helps alot.

What does Talos want? I dunno. Probably some form of alliance or at least a cease-fire with optional tribute. If Cora, (or whoeve tries to punt her out of the seat, assuming this person succeeds) does not sign, then Talos will just march in and take the castle by force.

Posted by: Grits Aug 11 2013, 09:41 PM

“Exactly,” I answered. “What does he have to say to me that he would come here virtually unguarded? And his Legions? What are their standing orders? What if they start rampaging through Cardonaccum? We don’t have the men to stop them, do we?”

I wonder that, too! I enjoyed the discussion between Cora and Robert, and I'm interested to hear what the General has to say.

Posted by: McBadgere Aug 12 2013, 12:39 PM

An excellent chapter...Again!!... ...

Weez all zeez exzellent chapterz, milady iz zpoiling uzz!!...*Cough*...Sorry, ye old Ferrero Rochet adverts coming through again... ...

Aaamywho...

Again, Robert's support along with Jannet and the staff is proper excellent...I especially loved that bit with Niall showing her the books that only the Lords traditionally see...And then Jannet's "You wouldn’t be the first Lady to carry on after the death of the Lord, that much is certain!"...I absolutely love all this kind of thing...

I'm sure your version of General Talos, while being ruthless enough to accomplish his goals will be Noble enough to get what he wants without resorting to routing the place...Well...We can hope... ...

Loving it all...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Posted by: ghastley Aug 12 2013, 03:08 PM

The castle staff is behind her. The army is behind her. Half the nobles are behind her, and the others are each out for their own gain, and not united. What's holding her back?

Talos could make a difference, but I suspect it will just be one that reinforces the decision she should be making anyway.

Can't wait to find out what he says to her!

Posted by: Acadian Aug 12 2013, 06:01 PM

We can well feel the heavy mantle of responsibility as it settles on the small shoulders of Lady-Lord Cora. The supportive words of her castle staff and the stalwart Robert had to mean ever so much at this point.

What indeed can Talos be thinking? Robert knows the neighboring terrain and, as he points out, winter is coming. Many are the generals who have harshly learned the deadly lessons of overextending a campaign into a frigid mountainous winter.

Posted by: Captain Hammer Aug 13 2013, 05:07 AM

Well, I guess we didn't get to see what GENERAL TALOS STORMCROWN, DRAGON OF THE NORTH!!!! wants just yet, but hopefully we will soon.

And yeah, my fanboyism is of a pretty-much unhealthy level. Whenever I read about Tiber Septim and his exploits, I think of a combination of two important characters from the Warhammer 40,000 universe: The God-Emperor of Mankind combined with COMMISAR CIAPHAS CAIN, HERO OF THE IMPERIUM!!!! and then plopped down in Tamriel.

And yes, the capitalizations and boldface are required when referring to COMMISAR CIAPHAS CAIN, HERO OF THE IMPERIUM!!!!, as well as his title and the attendant exclamation points.

Where was I? Ah, yes. Now I remember.

So, Talos has posted orders for his legions to move if they don't hear back from him, that being a metaphorical Dead-Man's Trigger to hold against Cardonaccum, and my best guess is that those orders of the "Pillage, Plunder, and Burn" variety to reinforce just how bad an idea it would be to kill him. It's what I'd do.

I will be interested to see what Talos wants as much as the others. I do not yet know enough about the metaphysics of this story to determine what it is that Talos needs, as I would imagine that if this story takes place under the same rules as Julian faced back in Fort Blueblood while trying to find Dagail's father's amulet. If that's the case, I wonder just how much of a problem winter poses for a general whose armies could always march under uncannily Clear Skies.

It is good to see Cora taking the active role in marshaling her resources early. It may not have been likable or enjoyable to see Robert reminded of the bounds of his oaths but it showed that the Lady-Lord of the Castle will treat challenges to her authority the same, no matter the source. Good on her, both for making the point, and doing it respectfully for one that is among her supporters.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Aug 18 2013, 07:09 PM

@SubRosa: I am glad you have finally figured out the geographic location. I am not sure just where the Crypt of Hearts is, but I will trust your judgment. And yes, you are right - Sirs Laird and Broc are dangerous foes indeed.

@Stratocumulus: Take your time and enjoy! It's good to see you gaining so much from your reading of my little story.

@Grits: That discussion between Robert and Lady Cora was fun to write! There are more to come!

@McB: Niall and Jannet make quite the pair - they represent the castle servants and are great to write, even though they have relatively minor roles.

@ghastley: What's holding Lady Cora back is the time she needs to gather her resources and fully assess her situation. Remember, she has studied Art of War and Crossing the Bjoulsae, among others. She is merely following her education.

@Acadian: Thanks for pointing out the obvious - the longer the supply lines, the harder it is to maintain an army's momentum. Still true, even in this day and age of air support.

@BamBam: Yes, you are right, Talos has the TES version of the Deadman's Trigger as his Plan B. As for weather control, well, let's just say that marching armies under clear skies would take an awful amount of energy Magicka. More than a mere mortal can generate. And sorry, I'm writing of Talos the man, not TALOS THE LEGENDARY IMMORTAL DRAGONBORN OF ALL TIME!!!

The story so far: We have watched Lady Cora gather information about her situation and learn who supports her as Wallace's successor and who doesn't. Now we get to what everyone is so anxiously waiting for: Talos's proposal.

********************************
Chapter Eight

I turned from the book in my lap to the sun, now stronger as it neared zenith. “On fatal terrain I will show them that we will not live.” That is what Wallace set out to do. Must I do this, as well? Must I stand firm? Do I even have the courage and resources to do so? I considered the book again, then turned the pages back to an earlier section.

Aha, here it is: “Subjugating the enemy’s army without fighting is the true pinnacle of excellence.” That is what I will have to do - with Sir Laird, Sir Broc, and Onchu, as well as this General Talos. “If I do not want to engage in combat, even though I merely draw a line upon the ground and defend it, they will not be able to engage me in battle because we thwart their movements.” I will remember these words.

I closed the book and swung my bare feet to the floor. Footsteps in the open doorway of the study drew my attention upwards. Niall entered with a fresh pot of tea. “Robert asked me to bring this to you, milady,” he said with a bow. “He is on his way with the prisoners.”

Carefully I set the ancient book aside and rose from the window seat. “Thank you, Niall.” I gestured for him to set it up on the library table. “I will take it from there.” As he bowed and left, I moved to the teapot and refilled my clay cup.

Booted footfalls warned me of Robert’s approach. I carried my tea to the desk and moved to take my seat behind it.

“Milady,” Robert stepped into the room. “General Talos and Lieutenant Titus Alorius.” He moved aside to let the others enter.

As imposing as Robert’s presence was, it dwindled next to Talos. Though the general was of average height and build, he carried himself with an arrogant confidence that filled the room and made its impressive book collection seem insignificant. Behind him, Titus Alorius seemed like a mere slip of a boy between Talos and Robert.

Yet Talos’s so young. Only twenty-five. Younger even than me. But those eyes. For the first time, I could see them clearly. They were not dark, as I had surmised before, but a startlingly clear hazel.

Once again the shaken feeling swept through me as we locked gazes. Then he bowed courteously to me. “Lady Cora,” his quiet voice carried across the study, full of authority and calm. “Thank you for giving me a little of your time.”

I seated myself before my knees gave way. This is ridiculous! Robert would never let him harm me! “P- please, have a seat,” I gestured toward the two upholstered chairs beside the fire. Somehow my hand didn’t shake as I sipped at the tea. Robert shifted to stand beside the desk, unquestionably my bodyguard in this situation. As the two men moved to sit, I took a deep breath to steady myself and to scare away the stutter I could feel surging in my throat. “I trust you find your accommodations agreeable?”

Talos glanced up as he settled himself more comfortably in the chair - not an easy thing with his plate armor. “Yes, quite,” he replied, a tinge of sarcasm in his tone. “Though surrounded by salt as we are, our thirst has been uncommonly strong.”

I ignored the implied criticism of our castle’s courtesy. “I believe Robert has been diligent in seeing to your needs,” I said slowly. After another sip of the strong tea, I folded my hands on the desk. “General, you said you had a p- proposal for me. Now’s the time.”

“I can help you with your quandary if you’ll help me with mine,” Talos got right to the point. His hazel eyes held mine steadily as I considered his words. What quandary is he talking about? How to get demoralized men through the winter? How to maintain Cardonaccum’s independence against an invasion force? How to get rid of him?

“What q- quandary is that?” I managed to keep my stammering under control. Talos’s next words caught me off guard.

“Do you wish to lead Cardonaccum in light of your husband’s passing?”

I stared at him. “Wh- what does it matter to you?” I remembered to keep my breathing slow to neutralize my stutter. “You’re here to conquer every lord in High Rock, aren’t you?”

Talos regarded me for a few moments. “‘When employing them in battle, a victory that is long in coming will blunt their weapons and dampen their ardor.’”

I stifled my involuntary gasp at recognizing the words I knew so well, words I had read so many times over in Art of War. Silence settled into the study as my mind raced through the implications. He’s read the book and is very familiar with it. No wonder he was so successful at Sancre Tor, and so far in High Rock. But does the fact that he quoted this particular statement mean that he is overextended and knows it? Just how much does he know of the situation here? I lowered my eyes from Talos and sipped again at my tea to gain a little more time.

“I see that you are familiar with a certain book,” Talos continued calmly. He nodded in the direction of the window seat when I looked back at him. “I, too, have studied the same material. You don’t need me to tell you that I hold its precepts close to my heart.” Now he inclined his head at me. “Nor do I doubt you do the same.”

I leaned back in the chair, speechless. Even my stutter was silent. Beside me Robert grew tense as he looked from Talos to me. Finally I took a deep breath. Then another.

“I believe you intend to carry on Lord Wallace’s legacy at Cardonaccum,” Talos continued. “And I understand that certain people are not supportive of the idea. Sir Laird has already offered to relieve you of the burden, hasn’t he?” He rose from his chair and moved to the window seat. As I stared, he picked up the ancient volume I had been reading and carefully paged through it. Finding the place he sought, he brought the book to me and laid it on the desk, open to a page in the latter half.

I did not have to read far to see his meaning. “In general, as for the armies you want to strike, the cities you want to attack, and the men you want to assassinate, you must first know the names of the defensive commander, his assistants, staff, door guards, and attendants.” Talos returned to his seat and moved to stand behind it, resting his arms on its high back. I regarded him thoughtfully. He’s telling me he has spies within Cardonaccum. Why?

“Lady Cora, you can not keep your position without help.” He tipped his head respectfully at Robert. “I don’t doubt there are those here who have sworn you their staunch support. But not only do you have enemies within, but also without Cardonaccum.”

“Such as you,” I said when he paused. “So what is your proposal?”

“I will support you in your position here as Lord Cora of Cardonaccum.” Talos’s smile did not reach his hazel eyes.

Robert inhaled sharply. “We don’t --“ He stopped when I held up my hand. “Sorry, milady,” he muttered so that only I heard.

I sipped my tea again. “And what do you hope to gain in return?”

“An ally, no more,” he answered simply. “I had hoped to make this proposal to Lord Wallace himself, but he moved before I could send him a messenger.” He looked down at his loosely clasped hands. I could see the scrapes and bruises across his knuckles that came with combat. “It is rather unfortunate that he died under these circumstances.” He ran his left thumb across his right palm. “But I still would rather have you as my ally than as my enemy.”

“Even if it means making an enemy out of Sir Laird?” I asked. “For certain he wouldn’t accept such an alliance with you.”

He looked up at me from beneath brows shaped like swallow’s wings. “Exactly why I am speaking to you, Lady Cora, and not him.” He shrugged expressively. “Sir Laird will always be my enemy, but as long as he does not hold Cardonaccum, he is of no concern to me.”

I leaned my left elbow on the arm of my chair and rested my jaw in my upraised palm. “I don’t doubt that he would seek an excuse to unseat me. He thinks he already has one.”

“That you’re a woman?” Talos asked. “Or a barefoot Witch?”

Again I reeled from surprise, though I kept myself motionless in the chair. He knows entirely too much. Does he know that I’ve been seeing him in my nightmares since I was twelve years old?

“Like I said, as long as he does not hold Cardonaccum, Sir Laird does not concern me.” Talos straightened up and set his hands on the upholstered back of the chair.

“If I were to become your - “ I hesitated briefly, the stutter surging into my mouth. “- ally, Sir Laird will m- most certainly unseat me. He has a c- considerable number of men still at his disposal. Cardonaccum lost too many at Bluestone Tower.”

“That is why,” Talos nodded at the officer in the opposite chair, “Lieutenant Alorius and his century will stay here to augment your garrison.” I caught the startled glance the younger soldier shot his commander. To his credit, Titus schooled his expression back into a neutral cast and avoided my gaze.

“You would give me men and your support,” I said finally. “But exactly what d- do you want from me?”

“Vigilance.” Talos responded. “Cardonaccum straddles the western approach to An Sloc. It is the first pass through the Wrothgarians to open in the spring, and the last one to close in the fall.”

I considered his words. The western access to the Reaches. Talos has many enemies among the Reachmen, especially after that massacre at Sancre Tor. “Aren’t you concerned that I may betray such as you to my kinsmen?” I drained my tea and rose to my feet. “After all, not only did you kill my husband two days ago, but my father and brother died at your hands last winter.”

“That was regrettable,” Talos’s tone held none of that emotion. “But I stand by that decision. Just as I stand by my decision to seek an alliance with you, Lady Cora.” He moved to sit down. “I know you won’t betray me. Lord Wallace has taught you of honor too well.”

I moved to the library table where the teapot rested, surrounded by stacked cups. I refilled my own cup, then paused a moment. If I strike a deal with this man, can I count on the support of his men? Or will he pull them out at the most awkward time and leave me vulnerable? I kept my eyes on the table as I set out three cups and filled them with the tea. Does he want to ally with me because he thinks I’m malleable? Easily swayed? An ignorant barbarian? “Honor?” I repeated, picking up two cups and moving to the chairs where the two men sat.

Titus looked up at me in surprise as I held one to him. He glanced at Talos, who remained impassive. After a moment, Titus accepted the cup but did not drink right away. I turned away from him and held the second cup out to the general. He did not move to take it, and I lifted my brows at him. “D- do you think I would be so foolish to poison you?” My tone became acerbic. “With your l- legions but a few hours’ march away? For all I know, they could already be on the way here. You are more valuable to me alive than dead, General.”

Talos locked gazes with me, then reached to take the clay vessel. “My thanks, Lady Cora. My throat was becoming parched.”

I returned to the table and reclaimed my cup, as well as the last one. Robert accepted it with mild surprise and murmured thanks, and I moved to stand in front of the desk. “Honor, General?” I picked up the conversation. “What do women know of honor?”

“When it comes to honor,” Talos sipped at his tea, “women are just like men. Some understand the concept, others don’t, and still others choose to disregard it.” He met my gaze. “I’d like to think that you understand it and choose not to disregard it.”

I considered him a moment longer. I don’t want to commit to anything without fully understanding its ramifications. And I’m not certain Talos has been entirely forthcoming with me. But his legions are marching on us. He didn’t deny it. “Robert.”

“Yes, milady,” the castellan set his tea down on the desk.

“Escort General Talos and his men to the road. Let them return to their legions.”

Now it was Talos’s turn to show surprise. But he said nothing.

“But milady, you said -“ Robert, unlike Talos, did not keep silent.

“I know I said he was of more value to us alive. But his legions have standing orders.” I locked gazes with Talos. “If I were the General, I would have ordered my men to march on the castle if I did not return alive within a certain period of time.” By the flicker that passed through his hazel eyes, I knew I had guessed right. “I need time. And to get that time, I need to release General Talos.”

“Yes, milady,” Robert bowed curtly to me, then turned to the two soldiers. “You heard Lady Cora, gents. Time to go.”

“Very well,” Talos rose to his feet. “I presume that you will let me know of your decision soon. Perhaps after you have met with Sirs Laird, Rodric and Broc and notified them of your intentions.” He saluted me with the tea. “Thank you for your generous hospitality, Lady Cora.” He set the cup down on the small table between the chairs and turned for the door, Titus on his heels.

A/N: All of the quotations mentioned here are from an actual volume, Sun Tzu's The Art of War. This book is the guiding polestar for all of Lady Cora's strategic and tactical decisions as Lord of Cardonaccum. There are several excellent English translations of this ancient Chinese text which, I'm sure Acadian will verify, is still taught to military officers in leadership school.

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 18 2013, 09:54 PM

Titus Alorius? You dug deep to get that name!

Lady Cora's nervousness, and that dastardly little stutter that keeps trying worm its way out, are quite understandable. Many people would folded up like a camp chair at the mere sight of the victorious General Talos.

Talos has brought up her quandary? It appears that he knows about the dissension in the ranks. Yep, he does. That damned man is well-informed.

“Lieutenant Alorius and his century will stay here to augment your garrison.”
I saw that coming. And not only will he help Cora remain on the throne, but also help her remember whose ally she is...

And now she wisely sends Talos on his way. Given the inevitability of his army marching on Cardonaccum, that was a good and necessary decision. Now Cora will have to decide what to do about Talos' proposal, and her rebellious servants. I cannot wait to see what happens next!

Posted by: McBadgere Aug 19 2013, 01:51 PM

Fair dues...Loved your version of Tiber Septim...Fantastic stuff...What I've read in the books of the game, he always comes across less of the Mighty Thor/Odin style, nine feet tall and seven wide sort of thing, rather he's always seemed an average sort of chap who's simply very good at his job... ...

Absolutely loved the back and to between him and Cora...

And the quotes were excellent...

For something that you described as "Not as epic" at the start...This really is truly something special...

Loving it!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...

Posted by: ghastley Aug 19 2013, 04:43 PM

I'm a little surprised he showed her that just before suggesting that some of his men remain as "reinforcements".

And at the end she sends them all away, as I'd have expected. Which may tip the hand of Laird to make his move prematurely?

Posted by: Acadian Aug 19 2013, 08:01 PM

Lady Cora struggles valiantly to maintain her composure. And from General Talos’ perspective, I’m sure her success in that regard seemed marginal. To readers however, Cora's internal doubts and challenge to control her stuttering quite endear her to us. She is stronger than she believes and getting stronger.

To deny the General would be to set Cardonaccum and all within to the torch, no doubt. Unless I misread Talos, I expect the offer he makes is genuine and he will make good on any promise he makes. Yet to accept his offer involves risks as well. I imagine she has little choice but to make a deal with Talos, but the devil can be in the details of how she does so. She is wise to manufacture the time she did to form her plans.

Cora sees a valuable lesson in action here: If the manual’s a good one, you may rest assured that any foe worth their salt has read it as well.


Nit: “Just as I stand my my decision to seek an alliance with you, Lady Cora.” - - Of course you meant ‘by’ here instead of the first ‘my’. That said, I'm envious of your tight quality control. The time and care you diligently put into editing each episode of this story really shows.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Aug 25 2013, 05:37 PM

@SageRose: Thanks to Destri and his Interregnum I was able to find a terrific character in Titus Aloris. How can I resist taking on such a mysterious character? According to the Lore, he was one of the few people who reported directly to Emperor Tiber Septim, as Governor of the Reaches. I wanted to explore how he got to such an exalted position, both as governor as well as in Tiber's trust.

@McB: Thanks for your affirmation for this "not-as-epic" story as something truly special! As Lady Cora told me her story, I became fascinated by her ability to build such strong relationships with such a diverse group of people without resorting to sex. In her own small way, she expects and demands respect from those around her. As we shall see, those who don't give her the respect she deserves will meet rather grim consequences.

@ghastley: I think Talos was showing Lady Cora only some of his cards, namely that he is very well-informed and that she shouldn't waste her time trying to deceive him. Her only question is, is he trying to deceive her? As for Laird's reaction, we will see soon enough! (or maybe not soon enough . . . )

@Acadian: First, let me thank you, thank you, thank you for catching that nit! I'm flattered by your evaluation of my writing and editing. To be honest, the first twenty five chapters or so were written during NaNoWriMo and have not been edited all that much (just for typos). Thanks to all the lessons I learned writing OHDH, my writing has improved to the point where my first draft pretty much equals my final draft. While this story is strictly from Lady Cora's perspective, I suspect that General Talos sees first her courage and strength - she doesn't wilt like many a sheltered noble lady, but instead looks him in the eye and challenges him. In turn he is very careful not to underestimate her, as we shall see.

****************************
Chapter Nine

“I am doing rather well, thank you milady,” Rodric beamed from his chair. The splints were gone today, and pain was less obvious in his features. “Between your potions and Siné’s care, I am well on the mend.”

“Good,” I sat beside the hearth. “I’m certain your wife is happy about it as well.”

“Ach, she is torn between delight at my recovery and worry over our son Torquil.” Rodric waved his hand dismissively. “But I trust you, milady. You’ll not throw him to the wolves just yet, would you?”

“Not until he is capable enough to hold his own,” I answered with a smile. Rodric peered closer at me.

“You’ve made your decision, then.” It wasn’t a question. I merely nodded. “Good.”

Footsteps stomped down the corridor outside Rodric’s door. I rose to face the panel as it was flung back against the wall. Sir Laird held it back as rebounded from the plastered surface. His blue eyes were icy, his face reddened. Sir Broc appeared just behind the older man’s shoulder.

“Is it true?” He glared at me. “You let the prisoners go?”

“Prisoners?” I repeated. “No, they were merely guests. Not honored ones as you or Sir Rodric, but still guests nevertheless.”

His eyes narrowed as his lips pinched white. “Guests?” he roared. “Foolish woman! We had leverage! Now that’s gone!”

“Now, now,” Sir Broc gripped the older knight’s wide shoulder firmly. “I’m certain milady has her reasons and intended well, misguided as her decision may be.” He turned to me and bowed. “But all is not lost. Not yet.”

“Bullcrap!” Laird retorted, shaking Broc off and striding into the room. “This has gone too far!” He stopped before me, forcing me to tip my head back to maintain eye contact. “Lord Wallace should have never married a barefoot Witch from the Reaches! I warned him it would go ill for him. Warned him!” He shook his finger in my face. “And now I warn you, Witch, make another unwise decision, and I’ll boot you out myself!”

“You will?” I forced myself to speak slowly. “With what? I possess the Cirsium and Thistlethorn. I have the right to make the decisions for Cardonaccum, not you.”

“We’ll see how long you can hold this donjon without my men,” Laird grated between his teeth.

Make the decision now. Hold Cardonaccum, or give it up? Accept General Talos’s proposal, or leave my home? All the remaining doubt I had dissolved in the face of Laird’s anger, and fear stimulated my own rage. “I will n- not have unfaithful knights under the b- banner of the Red Thistle,” I kept my voice quiet. “Go ahead and leave, Sir Laird. But l- let me warn you, once you leave this donjon, there is no welcome for you or your sons here for as long as you shall live.”

Surprise warred with anger in his face as Laird spluttered, unable to think of a response. “I will be back!” he said finally. “Whether you welcome me or not, I shall take Cirsium and Thistlethorn for my sons!” He spun on his heel and stalked out of the room, shoving Broc to one side.

The younger knight watched him disappear through the doorway, then moved to close it. He turned to me and bowed again. “Such a pity to lose a strong man like that,” he remarked. “Have you given consideration to my own proposal?”

I forced myself to meet Broc’s gaze. The familiar revulsion raised bile in my throat, but I managed to swallow it back. “You have the same answer as Sir Laird,” I kept my tone even. “I will run C- Cardonaccum as Wallace’s widow, not as a wife to another man.”

The slightest flicker of cold calculation passed through his dark eyes, then Broc bowed again. “I propose a union only after an appropriate mourning period, of course,” he said. “After a year, perhaps, you will be lonely for a man in your bed?”

“Sir Broc!” Rodric’s voice exploded from the chair. “That’s enough of your impertinence!”

Broc’s brows rose at Rodric’s words. “Impertinence? Seems to me that milady rather favors impertinence. After all, she granted audience to General Talos this morning. He certainly was impertinent to her two days ago. And what was his reward? His freedom?” Now he smiled, the smile of the fox in the chicken coop. “If it please milady, I’ll stay. After all, women are entitled to change their minds, aren’t they?”

I considered him a moment longer. He doesn’t see me as being strong enough to fill Wallace’s role. What can I say to shake him of this odious misconception of his? “True, I might ch- change my mind about you, Sir Broc,” I said finally. His eyes gleamed in avarice. “I might d- decide that you do not have any place here at Cardonaccum.” The smile fled his face. “If I do, I’ll escort you to the borders myself and let the Legions take care of you.”

Now his eyes narrowed at me. “What did General Talos say to you?” he demanded. “You would become his doxy?”

“Enough!” Rodric shot to his feet, then wobbled as his injured knee failed him. I caught him in time to ease him back into his chair.

“Be at ease,” I whispered to him. “Let Sir Broc show his t- true colors now.” As he muttered to himself, I straightened up and faced Broc again. “Be careful what you say, Sir Broc,” I warned him. “I can have you executed for speaking of treason.”

“And you haven’t already spoken treason yourself?” Broc’s expression turned serious. “Meeting with the enemy and letting him go, what do you call that?”

“Survival,” I answered simply. We stared at each other for long seconds.

“Milady!” A breathless young boy, clumsy in the leather armor of the thistlemen, burst through the door. He stopped in the center of the room and his eyes scanned the chamber. When his gaze fell on me, he stumbled to stand before me. “Robert sent me -"

“Easy, catch your breath first,” I said, taking his elbow when the youngster wobbled on his feet. When he steadied, I squeezed his arm. “Better?”

“Yes, milady,” he answered. Taking another deep breath, he met my eyes. “General Talos is on the march. The Legions are surrounding the castle!”

“Really?” I asked. The man certainly wasted no time. And what of Laird? Will he leave the safety of the donjon? “Where is Robert?”

“I left him in the bailey,” the boy responded. “I - I think he was heading for the gate towers.”

“Go b- back to him,” I turned him toward the door. “Tell Robert I’ll be along shortly.”

“Yes, milady!” He was gone as quickly as he had arrived.

I turned to look at Broc. Consternation reigned in his face as he considered the implications of the runner’s announcement. “I think this discussion is over, Sir Broc. Are you going to c- call your men to the walls?”

He shook himself and bowed to me. Without a word he was gone in a swirl of purple cloak. Now I returned to Rodric, who was already struggling to rise again. “You need to rest, Sir Rodric,” I said, pressing him back into his chair. “I’ll have your c- captain sent to you for orders.”

He collapsed back with a groan. “Is that all you’ll let me do?” he groaned. “I guess that’s all I’m good for!”

I smiled reassuringly at him, then turned and left the room.

As I made my way down to the great hall, I encountered Padriac, Rodric’s captain, on the stairs. He stepped to the edge to let me by. I stopped a few steps above him so our eyes were level. “Captain,” I brought his attention up to me. “Sir Rodric has need of you.”

“Yes, milady,” he nodded deferentially. “I am already on my way to him.”

“Good,” I leaned against the wall to give him room to pass. “Go, don’t let me d- delay you.” With another bow he was past me without a word.

Instead of running out into the courtyard to join Robert, I ran to the chapel instead. There I had placed Cirsium and Thistlethorn in Arkay’s care. Cirsium is too big and heavy for me, but I can carry Thistlethorn on my back. I will need all the authority I can get.

Onchu appeared out of the shadows as I approached the memorial niche where the names of past Lords were carved. One part of my mind noted the empty tablet that rested at the end of the lowest row. Waiting for Wallace’s name. Ignoring Onchu for the moment, I ran my gaze over the other names already carved: Cedric. Blane. Malcom. Lachlan. Ewan. Please give me your blessings as I try to take Wallace’s place. My hands reached for the great sword resting on its rack beneath the shield.

“What do you think you are doing, Witch?” Onchu’s voice arrested my actions. I glanced over my shoulder at him.

“Cardonaccum is surrounded by the Legions,” I answered more curtly than I intended. “A strong leader is n- needed at this time.”

“Laird is that leader!” Onchu protested, moving to block me from the memorial niche. He gasped in surprise when I shoved him back. As he staggered to keep his balance, I grasped the scabbarded sword and lowered it from its hooks. The leather baldric swung from the sheath as I stepped back. Swiftly I slung it over my left shoulder and turned to face the spluttering priest.

“Arkay is about b- balance, isn’t it?” I asked him. “Well, Wallace and I have balanced each other for a long time. I intend to keep that balance in his memory and honor. And if you t- try to get in my way, you shall find yourself administering to the wild men in some highland kirk.”

As he stared at me in stunned shock, I gathered my long skirts to clear them from my bare feet and ran for the great hall. Thistlethorn bumped against my back, its weight pulling against my left shoulder. The fat priest started after me, but I easily outran him.

When I re-emerged in the great hall, Niall turned from the gathered castle folk. “Milady!” he called to me across the chamber. I detoured my run for the exterior toward him. “What are your orders for us?”

“Get the m- medical supplies ready,” I answered. “And fill every available container with water. If they attack us with incendiaries, we need to be r- ready to put any fires out.” I glanced around at the folk - mostly women, young children and old men. “I will send more orders to you as soon as I’ve made a f- full assessment of the situation.”

“Yes, milady.” Under the circumstances the normally formal Niall gave me a mere nod of acknowledgement instead of his usual deferential bow. I didn’t delay as he turned and began directing his charges. His light tenor voice filled the great hall as I ran for the door.

Captain Padriac was there ahead of me. He saw my approach and paused long enough to hold the great door open for me. I thanked him under my breath as we moved through together. Then we separated, he for his men quartered in the castle barracks, and I for the gate towers.

I hiked up my skirts to my knees and took the steps two at a time. Men have it so much easier, being able to wear trous! If they only knew how much work running in skirts entailed, they’d have more respect for us! I was completely out of breath by the time I reached the top of the walls. Robert turned and caught my gaze. He left the cluster of officers and strode to meet me.

“One of the outposts on the moor behind us reported movement in the hills,” he spoke curtly, falling into step beside me as I headed for the door accessing the upper levels of the nearest gate tower. “Our lookouts saw more movement in the woods down the valley,” he waved toward the road that led down from the castle through the bottom of the steep-sided defile. “I’ve ordered the crick gate lowered, so our moat should fill within a short period of time.”

I nodded. The castle sat astride a small fast-flowing stream that ran down from the Wrothgarians. Its flow was supplemented by a spring that rose within the castle walls and emptied into the channel. It provided a constant source of water for us. While besieging forces could try to dam the stream above the castle, any attempts to deprive us of water would be unsuccessful. And poisoning the stream would not affect us, since part of our defensive ramparts included a dry moat around all four sides of the castle which could be backfilled with water if we dammed the stream above the spring. Because the crick gate was within the bailey, it was inaccessible to the enemy.

Hours of study with Wallace and a tutor he had provided for me in the early years of our marriage had provided me with all the information I needed to make decisions regarding the castle defenses. The crick gate had been a modification added after I pointed out one weakness - that of poisoning our water supply from upstream.

The spring itself rose from the bowels of the donjon, which protected it from contamination from corpses of animals and others catapulted over the walls. Wallace had discussed its inviolability with me. The only way our water supply could be compromised would be from within. As long as we had no agents working for General Talos, we could withstand his forces from within the walls for a prolonged time.

But the things Talos said to me this morning tells me he has ears and eyes within these walls. I’d have to be vigilant for enemy activity within as well as without. Yet I can’t be too paranoid. He wanted me to know he has agents inside my walls - does he want to sow distrust among us? I can’t let it reach that point. Laird and Onchu will be problematic, whether or not they’re working for Talos. If they ever realize just how much Talos knows, they’ll be creating dissent among the castle folk. I can’t let them know. Whom can I trust? Robert? I need his experience and combat knowledge, as I’m not as familiar with tactics as I am with strategy. Rodric? He’s a good man according to Wallace, but not particularly bright when it comes to anything other than combat.

I shook myself from my frantic thoughts and refocused on Robert’s voice. “- and Sir Laird is mobilizing his men.”

“What?” I snapped myself into focus. “M- mobilizing for what?”

“I’m not certain how he knew before the outpost runner came in the gates, but Sir Laird is calling his men together.” Robert peered at me. “Or was that because of something you said?”

******************
A/N: For Julian's fans, I've added a new thread to my sub forum! The first post is up in Life Beyond Main Quest!

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 26 2013, 02:05 AM

Well at least Sir Rod is on the mend, that is one piece of good news for Lady Cora.

So here is the expected showdown with Sir Lard. The beginning of it at least. I expect that he will use force to make himself Lord of Cardonaccum, and very soon.

Wow, and Broc is really arrogant enough to follow that display by throwing his own penis in the ring, again. As I expected, Cora cut off his, expectations...

Talos returned rather quickly! Still, I do not think he is going to attack. That would be pointless after his proposal. Unless Lady Cora turns him down. OTOH, if Sir Laird is mobilizing his men, then Lady Cora might just appreciate having that nice young Titus Alorius and his century around.

I would also like to say that I like that your main character is a person with a stutter. That is not something one often sees in fiction, and find it a welcome change. Kazaera and were recently talking about that in fact.

Posted by: Captain Hammer Aug 26 2013, 04:47 AM

I barely get a free moment this past week, and you put up two chapter? Gah, I have to ready my double-comments for Kaz and SubRosa as well. It's gonna be another long week...

Right, let's take this in order.

You have succeeded in an astounding fashion in showing just how much awesomesauce can be collected from the mere sweat of Talos Stormcrown. (Wait for it.) The man inhales the surrounding and exhales leadership and change and his own reality. Which, given that Thu'um is literally one's ability to shout reality into a more pleasing form, is about right.

He's educated, he's prepared, he's brilliant, and he knows how to appeal to honor and reason without coming across as a phony. Oh, and he's polite to a fault and witty with his remarks about thirst. I find his entire presence awe-inspiring, and would devote this entire post to him but for one fact.

Cora holds her own, like a waking she-wolf. (Stupid censorship would filter out boss-b^!#&)

Seriously, I am becoming more impressed with her with every entry you put up. Cora doesn't let on just how much she understands about the good general's literary references, but is clearly working through each phrase to understand just what Talos is telling her without actually saying. She keeps up in their little dance like a trained ballerina, and manages to both mollify and delay her guest.

And then she shows that she knows what Talos knows what she knows by letting him go since they both know the Legion has its orders.

Which brings us to the new installment. Laird declares his open rebellion, and Broc schemes. Poorly, at that.

But that's not important. What is important is that the Legions are coming, the Legions are Coming! By land, this time, so one lantern in the bell tower. Cora clearly understands the mantle of leadership, as her first thoughts and race to the chapel reflect. You do this part so well (I would have preferred to see the priest of Arkay undergo a much more personal experience with his god, but then again there's always next time) and there's not much I can add.

I do want to ask, however, just how heavy is that sword? Are we talking William Wallace levels of brawny might here?

That's just hilarious. A good way to end it. Robert is clearly now suspicious of something. Don't hope it's too much to ask that he's armed with a longbow by chance?






Now. DRAGON OF THE NORTH!!! (What, thought I'd forgotten?)

Posted by: McBadgere Aug 26 2013, 01:30 PM

Excellent chapter!!... ...

Loved the way Cora deflected all of her annoyances...Brilliantly done...

I thought that bit in the chapel with Onchu was brilliant... ...

So, Talos turns up just in time so it seems...

Help or hindrance?...We shall see...

Brilliant stuff...

Nicely done...

*Applauds heartily*...

Posted by: ghastley Aug 26 2013, 02:53 PM

OK, she's qualified, if we didn't already know.

One wonders if Talos' actions triggered Laird's or the other way round. And if the next instalment will reveal the answer.

Posted by: Acadian Aug 26 2013, 05:30 PM

Those two impertinent knights are not what Cora needs! And the Pillsbury Priest of Arkay is worse than useless.

Barefoot Witch indeed! I’m at all sure that is an insult, but there is little doubt that Cora’s detractors intend it as such. Yet, she perseveres. In fact, I can see a time in her realm when folks start intentionally stuttering to emulate what is becoming her very own and effective leadership style. Sort of like the oft cited, but unproven, story of the Castilian lisp.

The image of her running with skirts hiked up, mighty great sword thumping her rump, was a joy to read!

Nice segment on the castle’s defenses. I see Wallace did not neglect Cora’s castle engineering training. I love that he is still very much a presence – in a good and inspirational way.

It feels like the enemy is at the gate. Of course, it is unclear at this point under which banner they march, and even which side of the gate harbors the true enemy.

Posted by: Kazaera Aug 26 2013, 05:38 PM

Oooh! So Laird is... leaving. We hope (?). Or maybe going to try and fight off Talos' troops. Or maybe going to try to rebel. Let's see! In the meanwhile, Broc continues to be disgusting and I ever-so-strongly hope that Cora punts him off a cliff to the Talosians. :/ IDK, I just see him as the sort who'd backstab Cora when she's not expecting it once he works out she is not going to submit to his Manly Authority ™, or try to force her to submit. In the meantime, I was expecting something like Talos' offer, but... man. He killed her father, brother and husband, and now he wants her to be his ally? I expect Cora to agree in the end, because it's best for her and best for her people and she's a very sensible sort, but talk about galling!

I also love the line about the crick gate. Oh, Cora.

And yep, I am quite keen to see a stuttering character! I... will admit that my first reaction when you mentioned Cora's stutter was to cringe, because you seemed to be going the "she stuttered due to shyness/lack of confidence but then she gained confidence and it went away/someone taught her an easy way to manage it and now she doesn't stutter anymore" route. I see these a lot in fiction, and it's frustrating because it doesn't reflect how a stutter actually works in real life *and* creates pernicious stereotypes that dog the footsteps of those of us who do stutter. So I'm glad to see that instead, you seem to be implying that she learned techniques to control it, but they take some degree of concentration and if she's stressed or distracted or very emotional the stutter crops up again. That's pretty much my experience of what successful speech therapy looks like (not that it ever stayed successful for me /o\), so it comes across as her having learned a technique that works for her instead of her having found the Magical Cure ™ which only exists in fiction. And there are really far too few realistic stuttering characters out there.

Anyway! Your installments continue to be awesome, and I am looking forward to how things develop.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 1 2013, 06:48 PM

@SageRose: Yes, Sir Laird and Onchu are now in open rebellion against Lady Cora. Sir Broc isn't that far behind, but he's a sly one (or thinks he is) and will bide his time. There will be more Titus Alorius coming up! I loved him in Destri's Interregnum and thought I would borrow him here. He is not yet Captain, but will be by the end of the story! I'm glad that you liked Cora's stutter. She's so competent, but when people meet her at first, they don't see the woman for that impediment.

@BamBam: So you liked how Lady Cora stood up to the mighty, awe-inspiring General Talos, the ULTIMATE DRAGONBORN OF ALL TIME AND ALL UNIVERSES!!! It makes me very happy because if they are going to have respect for each other, they have to see each other as equals. Talos didn't come to this meeting unprepared, as we have seen. And Lady Cora may be barefooted, but she certainly isn't flatfooted!

@McB: Onchu is one of those characters that could easily be thrown away, but we will see later (much later) that he has his own agenda. But not without some humor at his expense!

@ghastley: I hope it will be clarified that Laird's actions are in response to the news that the Legion is surrounding Cardonaccum. I rather see him as a rat, and we know what rats do when the ship begins to sink. Not that I have anything against rats, mind you - they're intelligent, cunning and sly, highly adaptable and extremely sociable under the right circumstances. But the circumstances aren't ideal for Laird, so we are seeing the worst a rat can be.

@Acadian: Pillsbury Priest of Arkay indeed! This priest is one heck of a hypocrite, if you ask me - preaching about Arkay's balance but failing to balance his calorie intake with his calories burned! Yes, the term Barefoot Witch can be used in a derogatory manner, but Lady Cora chooses to ignore any such implications. She has learned the hard way not to be ashamed, as we will see in a few more chapters (say, about a month from now). Even though Wallace dies at the very beginning of this story, he casts a very long shadow over Lady Cora's life just because of the kind of man he was. Though theirs was an arranged marriage, I really wanted to show the sort of man Lady Cora fell passionately in love with. Not to worry, she will fall in love again, but the next Mr. Right will have size 11EEE shoes to fill!

@Kaz: I think you are quite right about Sir Broc - he is the backstabbing sort when he doesn't get his way. We will find out in a few months just how much so. Yes, I wanted to start the story off with a quandary - does she trust this man General Talos or not? Galling? Maybe. But practical? Yes, just what I would expect of both.

I'm quite surprised that the line about the crick gate got so many people's attention. It really shows how smart she is, and how quickly she put her access to Wallace's library to good use. I can only imagine Wallace's pride and delight when she pointed out that sole weakness to him and suggested a solution to a problem not yet recognize. I feel that was the moment when he knew he had made the right choice in marrying her in spite of the age difference and her background.

Better yet, I am happy that several people have commented on Lady Cora's stuttering. It is fairly common, and I know many very intelligent folks suffer from it. It is one of those things that gets in the way of living life to the fullest. I love writing characters who must deal with issues like this. If you remember, Julian is an alcoholic and an addict who started her story with debilitating injuries. The injuries healed, but not her addiction. It is still there. And Lady Cora is not the first stutterer I've written - she is the second. It's a challenge to write her dialogue, but it gets easier because I can hear her voice (and see her speak) so clearly. So Kaz and SubRosa, don't worry, Lady Cora will always stutter. It will be worse at times, and it will be almost invisible at other times. I have a coworker who stutters, and he is incredibly intelligent and smart and funny and just a nice guy all around. We started working at the Apple Store at the same time, so we have that basis to our friendship. He has been kind enough to share his experiences and struggles with his stuttering so I can write Lady Cora more realistically. It is thanks to him that her speech impediment just leaps off the page.

The story so far: Lady Cora her knights of her decision to release Talos back to his troops. They reacted pretty much as expected, Laird and Onchu (the Pillsbury Priest of Arkay - thanks Acadian!) with overt outrage, Broc with more covert slyness, and Rodric with unwavering support. Their rather spirited discussion is cut short by the news that the Legion is on the move.

****************************
Chapter Ten

“Not here,” I glanced around at the men ranged along the parapet.

Robert understood. “Through here,” he opened the door into the gate tower for me. Inside, the tower chamber was empty at the moment, benches overturned in the rush to man the walls. Soft light fell into the room from slot windows that overlooked the approach to the castle. I moved to one of those beams of light and turned to face Robert, letting my skirts fall to the floor.

The castellan stood in the light from the adjacent slit and regarded me silently. I took a deep breath and decided to take the plunge. “Robert, have you told anyone of what was s- said in the study this morning?”

His brows rose at the question. “Of course not, milady!” His exclamation did much to ease my worry. “Lord Wallace trusted me for my discretion, and I wish you would trust me for the same reason.”

“I know my husband t- trusted you deeply,” I kept my voice even. “H- he also trusted Sir Laird and Onchu, and you can see how much value that has for me now th- that I stand alone.”

“Stand alone?” Robert repeated. He shook his shaggy head furiously. “Never! Not as long as I live!” His scowl softened and he turned to peer through the slot window. I kept my eyes on his profile. “I see your point, milady,” he said finally. “But I’ll have you know that Lord Wallace swore me to your service when I came back from Skyrim two years ago.”

I stared at him. “Milord d- did what?”

He glanced sidelong at me. “Milord knew you would survive him. He wanted to be certain you had the support you needed, especially against Sir Laird and Onchu. They were against the marriage from the beginning. It was the only time he disregarded their advice.” He turned his gaze back outward, but not before I saw a slight glimmer in his eyes. “He felt they would oust you once he was gone, and he was afraid of what would happen to Cardonaccum if that happened.”

For several long breaths I considered Robert. He’s always been at my side since he came back. Other than Wallace, he’s the one man I trust the most. Even more than Niall. So why doubt him now, when I most need him? “Very well, R- Robert,” I sighed. “I’m glad to have you as my s- support.” I stepped toward him and laid my hand on his forearm. “And I’m glad of your discretion. Now I need your advice.”

Robert turned to face me, the pale light turning his eyes into sapphire as he gazed down at me. “What is it?”

“Sir Laird, h- how best to handle him,” I said. “C- can I afford to lose him? His men? I’m afraid I’ve alienated h- him just now.”

“What happened?” Robert asked. “What was said in Sir Rodric’s room?”

I told him all of it. He was silent, his eyes distant, as he listened. When I finished, he sighed. “So it’s Sir Broc, too? I never did like that young man.” He focused on me and turned brisk. “Well, you did nothing to alienate Sir Laird or Onchu - they were already set against you. They were just biding their time, especially as you bore no heir to milord.” He placed one large hand on the edge of the slot window and braced himself on it, gazing outward again. “Sir Laird needs to realize that not all women are easily manipulated like his wife Edine, or his mother. Not all women are vacuous and ignorant of more serious matters. He does need to be reminded that it was a woman who led the overthrow of the Ayleids in Cyrodiil, a woman who rules in Sentinel, and in many other places besides. Ach, but he’s stubborn!” He shook his head bemusedly.

“So his departure from C- Cardonaccum is inevitable?” I asked. “Nothing to do with what I said or how I said it?”

“I wasn’t there,” Robert shrugged. “So I can’t really say for certain. But I can speak to Sir Rodric when things are a little calmer, and get his side of things. He isn’t the brightest knife in the drawer,” his wry glance made me chuckle before I could stifle it, “but he is an excellent judge of character, and another good man you can trust as well.”

“Is he discreet?” I asked.

Robert ran his fingers through his beard thoughtfully. “For the most part, yes,” he said finally. “But in the heat of the moment, he may let slip something better left unsaid.” He nodded to himself as if making an unspoken decision. “I’ll speak to Sir Rodric, then I’ll be better able to answer your question. But knowing Sir Laird as I do, I don’t doubt that his mind was already made up before you spoke to him. He has his heart set on the Cardonaccum seat, and will seek to achieve it one way or another.” His gaze flickered at the ruby pommel protruding above my left shoulder. “’Tis a wise decision to take Thistlethorn,” he added. “Else Sir Laird could claim it, and the right to rule in Lord Wallace’s place.”

“H- he would dare, wouldn’t he?” I gritted my teeth at the thought. “I c- couldn’t bring Cirsium, though.”

“I think Thistlethorn’s the more important emblem,” Robert responded. I nodded and moved back to the window. I tried to peer out, but couldn’t see much more than the road below the castle. “Let’s go up top, milady,” Robert added. “You can see more from up there.”

He went up the ladder first. I tucked my skirts into the lower end of the baldric where it attached to Thistlethorn’s scabbard and followed. Robert lent me his hand at the top and steadied me on the tower roof until I had my bearings.

He was right, the view was much more expansive. Not only could I see the road with the little stream beside it below the castle, but also the upland moors behind us. The foothills of the Wrothgarians marched along our left shoulder a few miles away, and on our right, the land gradually sloped away to the slightest hint of a deep blue on the western horizon. In the woods lining the dean below, I could see glimmers of sun on steel among the bare branches of late fall. More appeared along the slopes of the foothills, and I could see the bright red splashes of the Legion banners.

“How far away are they?” I asked.

“About five miles off,” Robert replied. He pointed out the trees edging the western side of the steep-sided valley. “They’ve got some men up there on the heights.”

“Where is the opposite end?” I turned in place, scanning the horizon to the west.

“The line runs from there,” he indicated the steel shimmers in the trees along the western rim of the dean, “down along the road,” he waved his hand toward where the path disappeared around a bend in the narrow valley, “and up the east side in the foothills there,” he pointed out the movement along the lower slopes of the mountain range to our left. His indicating finger stopped at a point north of the castle, where our little crick came down out of the hills.

“So there’s nothing to stop them from c- completely surrounding us,” I said. “This is what General Talos meant when he said we didn’t have t- time.”

“So even though you let him go, they’re still moving against us,” Robert murmured quietly. I hid my flinch at his mild rebuke.

“General Talos has read the s- same books I have,” I answered. “‘- by assuming a defensive posture, strength will be more than adequate, whereas in offensive actions it would be inadequate.'” Bemusement flickered through Robert’s eyes. “We do not h- have the numbers he does, but we have the defensive c- configurations right here,” I laid my hands on the rough stone of the tower parapet. “He knows it will c- cost him more to try and take Cardonaccum from us.”

“True,” Robert nodded in agreement. I peered over the edge of the walls at the deep moat that completely surrounded the castle. Here where the bailey walls approached the edge of the bluffs, the moat pressed close to the stone foundations. The drawbridge was drawn up, severing the road below from the castle gates. When the moat was dry, the crick flowed out from the castle beneath the drawbridge and crossed the ditch to the stone-reinforced outer bank. A small culvert at the base of the moat let the crick flow out. However, even that was closed off, effectively damming the outflow from the spring. The stone above it stopped just below the top of the adjacent bank, providing a place for the water to spill over and prevent the moat from flooding the castle.

Already I could see water accumulating in the ditch, though it had not yet reached the spillover point. “That was good thinking on your part, to s- start filling the moat, Robert.”

“Aye, I’m certain the legionaries would think twice about trying to swim with their tin suits on!” He turned and indicated the walls to either side of the paired gate towers and those surrounding the donjon. “All of our thistlemen are at their stations, and Enrick has already called up every watch of his men that are able to fight.” Now he turned to me. “I would suggest you determine the chain of command here. It’s been so long since Cardonaccum was besieged -“

“Yes, of course,” I answered. “Where is Enrick?”

“I asked him to join me above the gates,” Robert walked to the parapet facing the opposing gate tower. He glanced over the edge. “Yes, he’s waiting for me.” He turned back to me. “Shall we head down?”

“Yes, of course, Robert.” I moved back to the open trapdoor. “After you.”

“Naturally,” Robert let himself through the trapdoor. Going down the slanted ladder was easier than climbing up, and I didn’t need his assistance at the bottom. We went out onto the stone arch over the gates together.

Captain Enrick turned as we approached him. His face beneath his helm was grim as he nodded courteously to me. “Milady.”

“I understand you answered t- to Lord Wallace in the field,” I said to him. He nodded silently. “That makes you more or less equal in rank t- to Robert, no?” Again a curt nod. “But the donjon and bailey of C- Cardonaccum is Robert’s responsibility. And he has more experience in combat than I do.” I paused, my gaze on Enrick.

“I understand, milady,” he said after a moment. “Concerning the defense of the castle, you want me to report to Robert, and to take orders from him.”

“And no one else but myself,” I finished, pleased with his understanding of the situation. “I am th- the only person with the authority to c- counteract Robert’s orders.”

“Understood,” Enrick responded, nodding deferentially to Robert. I could see the slightest hint of doubt in his eyes as he returned his gaze to me.

“I trust Robert implicitly,” I smiled up at the experienced captain. “And I know better than to t- tell him how to do his job. I doubt that I’ll have to c- contravene his orders, Captain.”

Relief moved through Enrick’s eyes at my words, and he permitted himself a small smile. “As you will, milady.” He bowed to me and turned to Robert. “My men are at your disposal, Robert Whitearm.”

“Good,” Robert clasped Enrick’s shoulder firmly. “How many do you have available?”

“A little more than one hundred,” Enrick answered.

Robert tipped his head back as he muttered to himself. “Let’s see, I have fifty on the walls - there’s room for -“ He dropped his gaze back to Enrick. “Put half of your men up on the walls - have them man the north bailey and tell my thistlemen to fall back to the east and west walls.”

“And the rest, sir?” Enrick straightened up beneath Robert’s hand, ready to move.

“Hold them in the bailey proper as reserve.”

“Yes sir!” Enrick’s response was as smartly executed as his departure. As he left, another figure appeared from the western gate tower.

I recognized Captain Padriac as he approached me. When he paused a few feet away, I nodded at him.

“Sir Rodric ordered me to place his men at your disposal, milady.” He seemed wary, and I sensed that he doubted my ability to lead fighting men through a siege.

“I shall have to th- thank him,” I answered. “I will place you under Robert’s command. He is in charge of the defense of C- Cardonaccum.” As with Enrick, I saw relief in Padriac’s stoic face and hid my smile. I turned back to Robert. “I shall leave you to get back to work, Robert. R- remember, I trust you.”

“As I you, milady,” Robert bowed to me. With a final nod to Captain Padriac, I turned and returned to the eastern gate tower.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 1 2013, 07:22 PM

When I saw your comment about 11EEE shoes all I could think were http://html-color-codes.com/. Goddess I am such a nerd...

I see Wallace expected this to happen. Well, except for the complication of Talos I am sure. He obviously put his trust in the right man, in the form of Robert, not to mention his distrust in Laird as well.

You gave us a nice description of the area surrounding Cardonaccum, and the distant approach of Talos' army. It also makes it even more clear why Talos wants the castle. It is in a key position, one he will need if he is going to conquer and hold eastern High Rock.

And finally it is good to see Lady Cora putting things in order and preparing the defense of the castle after the treachery of Laird and Broc was revealed.

Posted by: McBadgere Sep 2 2013, 06:10 AM

I like that Robert...He's a good man that one...Yes... ...

Proper brilliance...I loved the way that he effectively re-made his pledge to protect Cora, though this time to her face... ...*Applauds that man*...

Loved the way that the two Captains' initial worries faded when they realised that it was essentially Robert in charge...That was cool...

I do really like Cora...She's epic!...

Loved the description of the land around the place...And that whole thing with the moat...So vivid...Makes me wish I was there... ...Well, to visit...Years after the fighting...Now that it's in the hands of the National Trust™... ...

Nah, truly beautiful sounding place... ...

Amazing stuff...

Love it!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Posted by: ghastley Sep 2 2013, 03:17 PM

So Cora's established that she's in charge of strategy, and she's delegated the tactical to Robert. An appropriate disposition, that lets her concentrate on playing chess with Talos.

One hopes that Laird will find himself trapped in between, with Broc at his side.

Posted by: Acadian Sep 2 2013, 05:05 PM

And the influence of Lord Wallace continues to exert itself in ways even previously unknown to Lady Cora.

Robert is a gem here! And Cora is wise to arrange things as she has. Robert clearly has a fine tactical reputation and Cora’s well-considered endorsement of him bolsters her own authority. Seems like Cardonaccum is well prepared. Talos’ intent, as well as that of Laird and Broc, remains unclear however.

You continue to give priority to character development, even as you nicely move the story along. Very enjoyable.

’I tucked my skirts into the lower end of the baldric where it attached to Thistlethorn’s scabbard and followed.’ - - I quite liked the use of ‘baldric’ here. It is easy to overdo the use of nearly forgotten medieval terms relating to castles/weaponry/armor, but you are perfectly balancing the spice and flavor they provide vs distracting your readers with trips to the dictionary/google. Perfectly done, I say. I went through the same thought processes I expect you did when I, on several times, used the term ‘guige’ as the leather strap used to secure a shield to the back when not in use.

Posted by: jack cloudy Sep 7 2013, 05:11 PM

Wait, I'm all caught up? Impossible!

Ahem, we now have the promise of some interesting siege action. Good news for the thistlemen is that they are behind fortifications. And while this might sound rather callous, the recent losses they took on the battlefield has left more food for everyone enabling them to hold out longer. Finally, the approaching winter puts a limit on how long Talos can keep his army camped outside the castle.

The bad news is that the thistlemen aren't united and the sanctimonious priest, ole 'tis my right by blood' and the last guy whose sole argument seems to be 'ain't I handsome?' can really mess things up.

I like how Cora knows the strengths of herself and her allies and delegates accordingly. And the late lord seemed almost prescient. Given his thoughts that are now revealed, I guess he didn't move against the usurpers before because he needed their help and resources more than he could do without them at the time.

It was also interesting for me to note that the siege continued despite Talos having been left free. This could mean two things. Either he's commenced the siege anyhow for certain reasons (and I can actually think of a few), or communication lag is now working against him where he'd earlier used it as a dead man's switch.

Considering that the story takes place in a relatively low-magic environment, I'm not going to rule out communication lag setting things in motion that can't be stopped.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 8 2013, 06:14 PM

@SubRosa: Yes, Wallace anticipated that Lady Cora would experience resistance to the idea of her becoming Lord of Cardonaccum after his passing. Yet he chose her as his successor, though apparently he thought he had some time to make this clear to his knights. Not that it would have changed anything with Sirs Laird and Broc, or with the Pillsbury Priest of Arkay Onchu. We will see (eventually, at this posting rate!) that General Talos wants Cardonaccum (and Lady Cora) as his ally for more than just its strategic geographic location . . .

@McB: Yes, Cardonaccum sounds like it should be on the National Register of Historic Places (the U.S. version of the National Trust)! I would like to visit it with you at such a time! As for Robert, he holds a special place in my heart just for being the big, loyal, shaggy bear of a Nord that he is!

ghastley: Sir Laird will find that he is stuck between a rock and a hard place soon enough . . .

Acadian: Yes, Lady Cora has a gem in Robert our castellan. He is rock solid, dependable, reliable, and pretty smart up top as well as handy with his weapons. He continues to be her strongest support through this challenging time.

Mr. Stratocumulus: Congratulations on catching up! You should find this leisurely pace fairly easy to keep up with, even if you miss a week or two. As for why Lord Wallace didn't get rid of Sirs Laird and Broc, let's just say that politics has a way of - umm - getting in the way. As for the presence of magic in this story, it's there, but quite low-key. We will learn why Lady Cora does not use magic so much. As for General Talos moving his men in position, let's just say that he is comfortable with ambiguous situations, and is well-prepared for whichever way Lady Cora is going to jump, and he doesn't mind letting her know that he is ready for anything.

The story so far: General Talos moved his men into position to surround the castle from a distance. Lady Cora has placed Cardonaccum on siege footing to prepare for the worst. She also delegates the tactical decisions to Castellan Robert, whom Captains Enrick and Padriac both trust.

***************************************
Chapter Eleven

Siné finished her report on an encouraging note. “We’ve replaced the potions that were lost on the battlefield.” She smiled calmly at me. Eight years older than me, Siné was always quiet, yet competent as the chapel healer. She did not engage in the same bluster as Onchu, nor did she ever berate me for being born a Witch. Her manner toward me remained just the same since Wallace’s death, a minor fact that I somehow found reassuring.

“Thank you very much, Siné,” I answered. “H- how is Sir Rodric doing?”

“Being very difficult,” she replied wryly. “The idea of forced rest when we are besieged does not sit well with him.”

“I’ll th- threaten to chain him to his bed if he doesn’t follow your orders,” I offered in the same vein. She chuckled before nodding to me and walking away. I turned toward the kitchens. While headed to the kitchens to check on Machara, I had encountered Siné on her way to the cellars, where she maintained an alchemy lab and created her healing potions.

Chaos greeted me as I entered the kitchen. Machara berated two teenaged boys over their treatment of a side of mutton. She paused long enough to scold one of the girls for letting the bread burn in the oven before turning back to the amateur butchers. I eyed the meat and thought it looked acceptable, but kept silent as the burly cook wound down. When she finally released the boys back to their tasks, she cast a baleful glare around the kitchen.

Her ire disappeared when she saw me, however. Wiping her hands on her apron, she hurried up to me and bobbed a greeting. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, milady,” she exclaimed, pushing flaxen tendrils from her flushed face with the back of her right hand. Her cheeks puffed as she blew between pursed lips. “You’d be wanting to tell me what you want for dinner, no?”

“To tell you the truth, Machara,” I had to admit, somewhat ruefully, “I’ve been somewhat remiss in my duties. I haven’t given a th- thought to eating.” I moved past her into the center of the immense chamber. “How are you feeding the fighting soldiers?”

“Hot and hearty, just the way they fight!” Machara responded as she followed me. She gestured toward the two young butchers, chopping up the mutton on a broad table scarred by past battles with cleavers. “Mutton stew with mirepoix and gravy. Siné’s recipe - fennel seeds and peony seeds ground together and simmered in strong tea to keep them awake on watch. Plenty of bread and cheese!” Her eyes shifted back to the bread ovens against the far wall. “Conny! Didn’t I tell you to stop burning the bread!”

As far as I could tell, the bread the poor girl was pulling out of one of the ovens was perfectly golden. It’s just Machara’s way of getting things done. All of these people are used to her ways. “Then I’ll h- have what the men are having, Machara,” I diverted her away from her latest victim. “No need to make anything special for me.”

“But milady, all that’s so common!”

“We’re under siege, Machara,” I responded, raising my voice to be heard above the commotion. Everyone paused in their frantic activity and stared at us. Now’s the time to bond everyone together. “The most important people in this castle r- right now are those men standing up on the walls,” I continued so everyone heard me. “It’s cold and wet out there. If it isn’t raining, there’s frost falling. If the temperature drops any further, they’ll be shivering in the snow while the rest of us are t- tucked away inside this warm donjon. It’s up to all of us to support those men, for without their strong arms and brave hearts, we’ll have more important things to worry about th- than what’s an appropriate dinner for a barefoot Witch.”

“Of course, milady!” Machara exclaimed, bobbing her head in vigorous agreement. Suddenly she stopped and shot a glare around the chamber. The noise level increased as her underlings hurriedly returned to their labors.

I turned back to the cook. “An army travels on its s- stomach,” I lowered my voice so only she heard. “Feed our men so well that those Legions out there start thinking about defecting to us for your food!”

Machara giggled, a surprisingly girlish response from such a buxom woman. “That I can do, milady!”

I gave her a smile before I left her domains.

By the time I returned to the great hall, torches were being lit under Jannet’s supervision. She caught my glance across the hall and raised her brows in an unspoken question. I shook my head and continued toward the stairs to the second story.

My foot was on the first step when I became aware of a rising commotion from outside. I paused and turned toward the great doors. Are we under attack? I ran my hand across the baldric holding Thistlethorn at my back.

“Milady!” The left hand panel swung back, and a thistleman ran into the donjon. His eyes swept the great hall. “Milady?”

“Here,” I answered, leaving the stairs and moving as quickly as I could without running toward him.

“Robert wants you in the east gate tower,” the young man exclaimed. “Quickly, please?”

“What is it?” I started toward the door with the thistleman falling into step beside me.

“Wait just a minute, milady!” Jannet called from across the hall. “You’re not going out there dressed like that!”

I paused and turned back, looking down at the kirtle and cotehardie I had worn all day. “What’s wrong with th- this?” I raised my eyes to see Jannet bearing down on me with my cloak billowing in her hands.

“It’s cold out there!” She tipped her head toward the soldier next to me. “He’s wearing a cloak!”

“Yes, milady,” the thistleman’s tone took on a sheepish note. “It’s gotten colder since the noon.”

I took the heavy woolen cloak from Jannet and flung it over my shoulders, leaving the pommel of Thistlethorn exposed. Fastening it around my throat with my left hand, I nodded for the thistleman to lead on.

As I stepped onto the top of the stone stairs that led up into the donjon, I gasped as the frozen wind sliced through my cloak and set my teeth chattering. My breath was flung back into my face, leaving icy crystals on my cheeks. “C- cold?” I shivered at the thistleman. “We’re not in the Wrothgarians, damn it!”

His long stride faltered on the stairs as he glanced back at me, but he did not stop. I followed closely on his heels as we crossed the bailey. I could see the great gates ahead, thistlemen lowering the bolt home.

“What just h- happened?” I demanded. “Did we open the gates?”

“I’d best have Robert tell you,” the young soldier avoided my gaze. He led me to the base of the eastern tower and wrestled the door open. I ducked into the warm interior, lit only by braziers and torches. Within, I saw more thistlemen hunched over the flames, warming their hands. Some of them nodded to me.

The soldier who had fetched me headed for the narrow stairs leading upwards around the walls of the tower. “Be careful, milady,” he paused after the first few steps to offer me his hand for support. Gathering up my skirts, I accepted his assistance gratefully up the steep stairs.

By the time we reached the third floor, I was out of breath again. Robert turned from one of the south-facing slot windows as I approached him. I stopped at the black look on his face.

“Did Colin tell you anything?” he asked, his eyes flickering toward the thistleman.

“No, just that you would t- tell me,” I answered, gasping for breath. “But did I just s- see the gates being closed?”

“Aye,” Robert scowled, then waved me to the window. I moved forward and peered out.

The sun was now low enough in the sky that the road descended into gloom. I could see flickering torches signaling a fast-moving procession winding its way down the east side of the dean to the valley floor. “Who is th- that?” I demanded. I could just make out the shapes of armored horsemen and foot soldiers. In the rear of the train, more horsemen surrounded a woman seated sidesaddle on a white palfrey. “Is that -“

Just then the lead rider drew rein and spun his grey horse on its hocks. I recognized Sir Laird by his lean figure, angular even in plate armor. “What!” The exclamation burst from my lips as my eyes fell on the familiar emblem on his left arm. “He has C- Cirsium? How dare he?” I slammed my fist into the stone at the side of the window. Then I saw the woman again. Edine. Does he know Talos holds the road?

I backed away and spun around to stare at Robert. “Tell me how he left C- Cardonaccum,” I said coldly.

“He pulled rank on the soldiers manning the gates,” Robert answered. “They thought he had your permission to sally out with his men and strike a blow. They didn’t realize their error until his wife and sons passed them.”

“S- stupid fetcher!” I exclaimed, my fists clenching at my sides. “Does he think he c- can get past General Talos?”

“Apparently he thinks the General will give him safe passage for his family.” Robert shook his head.

“He does, does h- he?” I shook my head fiercely, my loose hair tangling in the pommel of Thistlethorn. Impatiently I pulled my locks over my right shoulder and turned back to the window. “Why would a general who ordered the s- slaughter of unarmed Bretons give safe passage t- to armed Bretons? He’ll keep th- them from passing th- through.”

“Should I send a detachment after them?” Robert asked. “Maybe we can convince Sir Laird to return.”

“Can’t,” I shook my head. “I t- told him if he left th- this donjon, h- he wouldn’t be welcomed back.” Below, the flickering torches disappeared through the trees lining the valley. I closed my eyes. Edine. She’ll be caught in the middle. It won’t end well for her. I sighed. This conviction came from the same source as my nightmares. Though I possessed no magic of my own, Nirn gave me her own. My bare feet kept me in constant contact with her power, through stones and wood and dirt. Sometimes Nirn showed me possible futures, and I saw one now. “I will not ch- change my mind on the matter. He betrayed C- Cardonaccum by stealing Cirsium and leaving th- the donjon during a siege.” I turned back to Robert. “Where is Onchu?”

“He left with Sir Laird,” Robert answered.

Good riddance. We never needed that fat hypocrite here anyway. But now I have to find someone else to tend Arkay’s chapel. “R- Robert, make certain everyone knows that no one, absolutely no one, is to leave th- the donjon without your or my permission. The two of us are the only ones with the personal authority t- to open these gates, and the postern gate up on the moor.”

“As you will, milady,” Robert inclined his head.

From the shadows behind him stepped one of the other men in the shadowed room. I recognized Captain Padriac. He bowed to me, his face grim. “My pardons, milady. This is my fault.” Robert shifted toward him, lifting a hand to stop the other soldier.

“Your fault?” I repeated, meeting Padriac’s uneasy gaze. “H- how so?”

“Sir Rodric warned me that Sir Laird was likely to cause trouble,” Padriac answered. “It was my men on the gate, my men who let them through. I neglected to tell them to keep Sir Laird confined to the bailey.”

I sighed. “It isn’t your fault, C- Captain,” I said firmly. “If any one of us is at fault, it is me. I sh- should have ordered him c- confined to quarters this afternoon. Instead, I let him escape because I did not c- communicate the necessity to everyone on th- the walls.” Robert shook his head slowly until I shot him a glare. “But we h- have more important things to do th- than figure out where the blame lies,” I continued. “Sir Laird was planning to betray me and Wallace - he s- said as much to me. By Arkay, we may be better off without him h- here!”

Posted by: ghastley Sep 9 2013, 03:55 PM

There's a nice bit of reinforcement of the fact that she's in charge. Accepting the blame says "the buck stops at the top, and I'm at the top".

I'm a bit surprised at Laird taking the risk of leaving as a single convoy, but I suppose he only gets one chance to bluff his way out. I'd hope that he separates his group before meeting Talos, or he's forced onto the defensive.

Nice weather for it!

Posted by: Acadian Sep 9 2013, 04:39 PM

”. . . we’ll have more important things to worry about th- than what’s an appropriate dinner for a barefoot Witch.” - - By Mara, I was right! Barefoot Witch is now a proper term of endearment! Seriously, as word gets to the ranks of who is responsible for the high priority placed on feeding them well (and it will), the Barefoot Witch’s stock among them will soar. I know Wallace is responsible for much of Cora’a ability to lead this castle, but his strongest legacy seems to be not so much what he taught her, but how well he chose his Lady to begin with.

Wrothgarians indeed! I was reaching for my furs to stem the frosty dampness.

Uh-oh. Laird and Pillsbury are no loss, but Cirsium and Edine are! Grrr!

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 10 2013, 01:03 AM

At least Cora had some good news from Sine. I am wondering when she will start sizing Sine up as a replacement for Onchu?

And the kitchen was fun. Not to mention set my stomach to growling, even though I ate just 3 hours ago.

“Feed our men so well that those Legions out there start thinking about defecting to us for your food!”
If they are eating hardtack with weevils (the soft spots), then that won't be too difficult!

There goes Laird. I am not surprised. My guess is that he's going to try to strike his own bargain with Talos. But I do not see T going for it. Given that Laird just left the castle, he no longer has anything to really bargain with.

He took Onchu with him? I have to agree with Cora's assessment. Good riddance to bad rubbish there. Looks like it is time Sine got that promotion...

Posted by: McBadgere Sep 10 2013, 03:42 AM

It's a date!!... ...

*Does dance of joy while singing to himself*..."I gotta da-ate...With Haitch-Ee-Ah-are"... ... ...


Oooh 'eck!... ...While it's good that the viper is gone from the nest...*Does finger guns and winks*...Oh yeah!!...Did he take Broc with him?...Or is that snake still ready to deliver his poison?...

Yeesh...I hate it when I try to do proper sensible stuff...I just can't...

Absolutely loved all that...The trip to the kitchen was proper good...That meal sounds lovely, no wonder the Barefoot Witch would be happy to have it...Damn...It's a bit early for stew here... ...Ach, I'll go make a start on some!...

I can imagine that something bad is about to happen to the fighters who left...I just hope that Talos' men don't mistake the family for fighters...

Aaamywho...Brilliantly amazing stuff...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Posted by: jack cloudy Sep 10 2013, 07:09 PM

What everything else said. Good reinforcement of Cora taking on her role as leader, nice showcase of the castle's activities and of course removal of two hindrances.


I do have to disagree with Subrosa though. Laird does have something to bargain with. Circium. Talos would definitely appreciate getting a bargaining item put in his hands. Of course, there is nothing stopping the general from just taking the thing by force or deceit.

Posted by: ghastley Sep 10 2013, 07:13 PM

But Talos returned that to Cora himself. So Laird should assume that Talos doesn't need the shield, or he'd have kept it when he first got it.

Posted by: Grits Sep 12 2013, 12:43 PM

I’m interested to see what happens to Circium. I would think that Talos would haul it back to Cora if he found it in Sir Laird’s hands. Perhaps with a ‘keep track of your stuff’ quote from the book.

I enjoyed learning more about the barefoot Witch situation, particularly as it related to Edine’s possible unpleasant future. Cora’s resolve speaks well of her.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 15 2013, 05:51 PM

@ghastley: Yes, Lady Cora has the gumption to stand up to men three times her size and lay down the law. As we've seen earlier in the story, she has grown tremendously since she was a nervous little bride of eighteen.

@Acadian: You had mentioned earlier that people are going to start stuttering out of respect and admiration for our Lady Cora. I, on the other hand, think it would be more meaningful if women chose to go barefoot in all kinds of weather . . . Yes, I agree that Wallace's true legacy is the woman he chose to be his second wife and the one to succeed him. He saw something in her back then that no one else (including Lady Cora herself) could quite see. Makes me wonder if he had the Gift himself . . . And yes, Cora knows well the key to an army's loyalty is keeping their bellies full.

@SubRosa: Not to worry, Siné will step up and fill in for Saint Pillsbury. She is an incredibly strong character in her own right, and Lady Cora recognizes (and even leans on) that strength. We will see more of Siné not only as a healer, but also as a priest of Arkay.

@McB: As always I enjoy your comments. The addition of the gestures just makes them more fun to read! Umm, I have a taste for stew myself too - remember Grits posted the Cloud Ruler Temple Beef Stew recipe over on the cooking thread!

@Overcast and Rainy: (can't you tell that I'm looking out the window at cold, dreary rain right now? And me in the depths of a cold!) Laird may be an idiot, but even he isn't that much of an idiot to think General Talos would deal with him. After all, the good General practically ignored Laird when they confronted each other on the steps. Actually, I see his flight from the castle as fleeing a sinking ship, and he took Cirsium because he plans on returning to claim the castle once Talos has finished off Lady Cora. The one thing he can't foresee is that Talos would treat with Lady Cora as an equal, due to his own inability to see the little woman just that way.

@Grits: Your speculation on Cirsium's fate is interesting, but I don't think Talos is in the business of running a Lost and Found. Not to worry, we will find out in upcoming weeks what happens with that shield.

The story so far: Sir Laird has taken his men and his family and departed Cardonaccum. He has stolen Cirsium out of the Chapel, likely with Onchu's assistance, as the Pillsbury Priest has also left with him. Now we learn the consequences of such a rash decision on his part.

**************************
Chapter Twelve

As Padriac murmured relieved thanks for my understanding, the trapdoor above us slammed back and a helmed head appeared in the square of sky. “Castellan!” he shouted down. “There’s trouble on the road!”

“What?” Robert darted for the ladder, fast in spite of his bulk. I turned and ran for the door that led to the top of the gate arch, Padriac on my heels.

Outside the wind was even colder than it was a few minutes ago, and scattered flakes of white struck my cheeks. I drew the cloak closer about me and stepped onto the parapet. Captain Enrick turned from his vantage point and bowed slightly in acknowledgement of my arrival. “There,” he pointed out the swirling of torches visible among the trees in the distance.

“About h- how far away are they?” I asked.

“Speed they were going?” Enrick responded. “About a mile or so. Looks like the Legions moved closer under cover.”

“If th- they blackened their steel,” I muttered, “we wouldn’t see the light flashing off of them. Damn!” I squinted, a vain attempt to see more completely through the trees. Faint shouts drifted up the valley toward us, screams and curses. My hands clenched on the wall as we listened helplessly. Finally the only sounds we could hear was hoofbeats of running horses.

“I need to speak to the th- three of you,” I said to Enrick and Padriac. I looked up at the gathering dusk. “Let’s fetch R- Robert and meet in Sir Rodric’s room immediately.”

“Yes, milady,” Enrick cast his eyes upward toward the top of the eastern gate tower. He made a signal as Padriac escorted me back into the tower.

Rodric’s Captain was silent as we walked back to the donjon. I was lost in my own thoughts and nearly stumbled on the steps leading up to the great doors. He caught my elbow and steadied me. “Be careful, milady,” he said quietly.

“Thank you, C- Captain,” I waited as he opened the door for us. “It’s all a bit overwhelming for me.”

“It is for anyone their first time,” he responded. “Combat, siege, anything.” He fell silent again as we mounted the wide staircase leading up to the second floor.

Robert and Enrick appeared a few breaths behind us while Padriac tersely reported the situation to Sir Rodric. “I doubt Laird could survive that,” the castellan commented. Enrick nodded grimly.

“Milady thinks the Legion blackened their brights - that’s how they were able to get so close unseen.” He bowed in my direction. “I have to agree that’s a reasonable assumption.”

“Which means there are others doing the same!” Robert exclaimed. “Make certain everyone manning the walls tonight know to be extra watchful, and to keep constant contact with each other.”

“Yes, sir,” Enrick responded. They turned to look at me.

I met Rodric’s gaze. “The r- reason I asked all of you to meet here is because I need your experience right now. We have a h- hard decision ahead of us.”

“What decision is that?” Rodric asked.

“I don’t know for c- certain what General Talos will do,” I began pacing. “He now has Cirsium, I doubt he’ll r- return it a second time. What will he th- think of Laird’s escape attempt?”

“Fully armed Bretons sallying out from Cardonaccum?” Enrick asked. “I suspect that he would think we intend to resist to the last man.”

“Agreed,” I nodded. “Yet another way he would see this as Sir Laird fleeing a sinking sh- ship.”

“Like the rat that he is!” Robert exclaimed, his mustache bristling.

“In either case,” Padriac rubbed his clean shaven chin thoughtfully, “General Talos will attack tonight.”

“In the dark?” Rodric exclaimed. “With no moon?”

“What better time?” Enrick countered. “The fact that his men have covered their steel to hide their approach along the road indicates that he was planning a night attack anyway. Could be Sir Laird’s resistance changed the timing for him.”

Rodric turned to me. “What of Laird’s wife Edine? Any sign of her?”

I shook my head. “I doubt that she or the ch- children will be well-treated at the hands of the Legions, especially with Laird fighting th- them.”

“We don’t know for certain if he attacked first, or they did,” Robert fingered his beard. “They may have ambushed him when they saw him coming.”

“Why?” I asked. “If th- they were sneaking up on us, would they give their position away? Especially with more of the Legions behind th- them to deal with Laird?” I shook my head. “I s- suspect Laird saw them first, and chose to attack.” By the looks on the mens’ faces, I could see that they had not thought of it themselves. “Well, all we know for certain is th- that Laird fought the Legion’s advance forces. And we all agree that General Talos is likely to attack us tonight.” I sighed, fear and worry forming a hard knot in the pit of my stomach. “Do we r- resist, or do we ask for a parley?”

The men were silent for several long breaths, avoiding each others’ gazes. They avoided mine too, as I looked from one to the next. I sighed. “I promised milord that I would take c- care of C-Cardonaccum in the event of his passing,” I said finally. “The question I am asking myself is th- this: how best to do so? If we resist, they c- can lay waste to the lands around us.” I turned to look at Rodric. “Th- that means your manor, Sir Broc’s, and Sir Laird’s will be demolished. The crops s- stored there will be lost.” I met Robert’s gaze. “And our mines up in the h- hills will be overrun. We would die free, but would it be worth it?”

The two Captains’ gazes flashed at me, then they looked away. Robert regarded me thoughtfully. “Are you proposing we surrender to General Talos?” he asked. “For certain, that too, would obliterate Cardonaccum. What’s to stop him from laying waste to the lands and enslaving its good folk?”

“If you can see a way to preserve Cardonaccum for its good folk,” Rodric added, “you can count on me to support you. If that means dealing with the daedra himself, then all I can say is do so very carefully.”

“Until then,” Enrick continued the discussion, “my thinking is to resist, if only to buy time.” He waved his hand expressively at the stone walls surrounding us. “We can hold out here for quite a long time.”

“As long as we are not betrayed from within,” I answered. “I’m not c- certain of Sir Broc’s loyalty.”

“We’ll keep a close eye on him!” Rodric growled. “Don’t worry about that upstart hedge knight!”

“Don’t insult h- his father,” I said mildly. Rodric grunted and looked away with a scowl. “S- Sir Duncan was a good man.”

A loud knocking at the door interrupted Rodric’s grudging agreement. Robert opened it to reveal a young thistleman, the same one who had fetched me earlier this afternoon. “Castellan, on the road!”

Robert did not hesitate, but shoved past the boy and disappeared, with the Captains on his heels. I glanced at Rodric, who waved me to go. I turned back to the young thistleman. “What about the r- road?” I demanded.

“A horse and rider, milady,” he answered. “We can’t quite make out who it is.”

I murmured something to Rodric and ran out after the others. The boy fell in beside me. “Wh- what is your name?” I realized that my stuttering had grown worse as the day wore on, and silently cursed my affliction.

“Calum, milady,” he panted as we crossed the great hall.

“Thank you, C- Calum!” I responded when he darted ahead of me to open the door. I ran through in time to see the bailey gates swing wide, and a horse, her white hide splashed dark, gallop through. A limp form depended from her right side, foot caught in the stirrup. As men ran to catch the panicked mount, I recognized Edine’s palfrey. The mare tossed her head and whirled, avoiding the grasping hands and trampling on the unhorsed rider. She whinnied and spun for the gate, but the thistlemen there were already closing it. Eyes wide with fear and pain, she bolted around the courtyard.

Is that man even still alive? My heart in my mouth, I ran down to the courtyard as the horse veered toward me. I whistled softly, catching her attention. When her ears tipped toward me, I began humming tunelessly, walking slowly into her path. She skidded to a stop and dropped her head against my chest. I stroked her neck, whispering soothing words to her. The pain and fear that surged into me at my touch nearly staggered me, but I kept still. When I was certain the mare was no longer panicked, I took her rein and rubbed her long nose.

Calum appeared at my side, his eyes wide in wonder. I handed him the reins and moved to the mare’s right side. The man-at-arms lay sprawled on the ground, his leather surcoat torn to rags, his mail battered into shreds. The unnatural angle of his lower leg told me his leg had broken, likely when he fell from the horse. I knelt beside him as thistlemen brought torches near.

“Someone c- cut his leg free and get the mare into a s- stall,” I ordered, my eyes on the man’s bare head. “And fetch Siné!” Blood obscured his expression, making it difficult to tell if he still lived. When I reached down to gently ease his head into a more comfortable position, I felt a soft spot above his right ear. He stirred at my touch, and his eyes cracked open through the scarlet covering his face. When his gaze met mine, he struggled to speak.

“Be quiet,” I said.”We’re getting th- the healer for you.” I undid the clasp at my throat and flung my cloak over him.

“Milady - “ his voice rasped with the agony of his extensive injuries. “Sir Laird - dead - his lady - taken -“

My jaw clenched at the news. “We s- saw,” I answered. “But be quiet. Don’t t- try to talk any more.”

“He- “ the soldier gasped, his eyes turning upwards until only the whites showed. “- help -“ His breath escaped in a guttering vapor trail. Snow flakes dropped onto his unblinking eyes as I felt his heart stop beneath my hands.

“Milady,” Robert reached down to me and plucked me up by my shoulders. “Let us take care of him.”

“H- he was one of Laird’s men,” I resisted Robert’s grip. “H- he was asking for help. J- just because h- he followed Sir Laird doesn’t -“

Robert gave me a gentle shake. “It’s too late for him,” he said softly, bending down so that only I heard him. Finally I nodded and let him lead me away, toward the donjon. He escorted me up the stone steps to the doors, then stopped me. “Milady, it’s been a very long day.” Weariness weighed his voice down, the same weariness I felt in my own bones. “You’re exhausted. Go inside, get some sleep. We’ll keep watch all night.”

I looked up at him. “Promise me you’ll s- send for me if anything ch- changes, won’t you?”

“I promise, milady,” he answered.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c3ALI_8i45g

Jannet met me in the great hall. She pressed a steaming mug of tea into my hands and insisted that I drink it. When I had obeyed her, she led me upstairs to my sleeping quarters. Exhausted after two days and two nights without sleep, I did not protest as she took Thistlethorn from my back and laid it across the trunk at the foot of my bed, nor when she undressed me and brushed out my tangled hair. Numbly I slid beneath the sleeping pelts and curled up on my side.

Jannet fussed over me a few moments more, then blew out the candles and left me alone. As soon as the door closed after her stooped form, Cinnie leaped onto the bed and tucked herself in the curve of my belly. She kneaded the pelts slowly, rumbling softly all the while. Unlike the other night, when she had purred in contentment, tonight her presence was empathetic. I caught her up in my hands and pressed her soft body against my face. As I wept into her fur, I let her experience the entirety of the fear and worry and grief I had stifled all day.

Posted by: ghastley Sep 16 2013, 03:22 PM

A slant on it that I hadn't seen. Laird's defection could be seen not as division among the defenders (now resolved), but as suggesting that their position was weak. Cora needs to show that the castle is ready for a siege, so that Talos doesn't have to find that out the slow way.

The besieging troops can do economic damage to the surrounding lands, but what can the garrison inflict on them? Usually they don't have to do anything, as the problems of supplying an expeditionary force for a siege mean time is on the side of the defenders, but in this case Cora and Talos would both benefit from a swift end, and they both know that they both know it.

Posted by: Acadian Sep 16 2013, 06:46 PM

So Laird didn’t make it – no surprise there. Cora is right though in that Talos could certainly take it as a sign that she has made her choice by sallying knights against the Legion. Not good if that is the impression held by the General. We can almost hope here that his ‘inside information’ on the state of Cardonaccum allows him to accurately divine the truth.

I see Cora’s pretty good with critters!

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 16 2013, 08:34 PM

From the commotion the woods, I am guessing that Sir Lard met up with General Talos.

I suspect that GT will take Sir Lard's force as just what Lady Cora ventured, a rat fleeing from a sinking ship, rather than as a sally. The presence of Onchu will probably clinch it, as the local bishop is not likely to be making attacks with troops (though Duke William's half-brother Odo stood and delivered at Hastings). Besides, he seems to know that Laird is not exactly willing to take orders from Cora anyway.

I noticed that the war council seemed a lot more productive without Sirs Laird and Broc present... Cora herself, while admitting her own lack of experience, shows her worth here. Not only with the observation that Laird was probably the attacker on the road, but also in that she broached the idea of surrender if it would preserve Cardonaccum. The latter is refreshing to see in fantasy fiction. Usually it is always a doomed struggle against impossible odds where there is no thought of surrender (granted, usually because it is orcs or such attacking).

While she might have shoes on, Cora shows her horse-whispering Witchiness with the horse in the bailey.

I was half-expecting Storms to be http://youtu.be/SiyiexKOaHk

Posted by: Grits Sep 16 2013, 11:40 PM

I would tend to think that Sir Laird’s lady and children wouldn’t have joined him in a raid, but perhaps the survivors won’t make it to the general. Cora feared for their safety, so we can’t assume anything about the treatment of captive non-combatants by the Legion. I’m interested to see what the night brings.

Added: (Sorry, got interrupted mid-post) I liked the darkened armor very much. The details make this story a rich and interesting read.

Posted by: McBadgere Sep 17 2013, 04:35 AM

Ooooh...Proper brilliant...

D'you know...I'd forgotten all about the darkening of the armour/weapons so as not to throw the reflected light... ...Thanks for reminding me about it...*Applauds...Stops and makes note...After slapping the back of his own head...*...Brilliant idea though...

The conference was brilliant...Top Knights abound!!...Fantastic characters all...

Hopefully they'll find Sir Broc soon...I dread to think what he could do about the place on his own once he realises they're all after him... ...

And such a lovely end to the episode, the comforts of the chamber a complete contrast to the martial feel of the rest of it...*Winks and does finger guns*...

Fair dues, this is whole thing is as good as some of my fave novels...No, it's not a shocker, I'm just saying is all... ...

Love it!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 22 2013, 07:19 PM

@ghastley: As usual, you have presented a good summation of the quandary faced by both Talos and Lady Cora in this segment. Her solution? Wait and see!

@Acadian: Yes, I would hope that Talos's inside information is good enough that he would see Laird as acting as his own agent. I'm sure, though, that is exactly how Talos sees the idiot. After all, he chose to deal with Cora, not with Wallace's surviving knights. And yes, a touch of empathy with the critters is one of Lady Cora's meager talents.

@SubRosa: I agree with you that GT would not take Laird's actions as indicative of Lady Cora's response to his offer. Rather, I would expect, as I said earlier, that his inside information would be good enough that he knows the nature of Sir Laird does not allow for a female ruler.

@Grits: I'm glad you liked that little detail of the darkened armor! I got to thinking about night operations by the Marines and the Army light infantry and thought why not Legion armor too? I think the trickiest part of night operations for armored fighters is maintaining silence!

@McB: Stop slapping the back of your head! You'll have a bruise bigger than your brains! Sir Broc wasn't invited to this one as Lady Cora did not want to waste time with his insinuations. But yes, a conference of Top Knights, indeed! I suspect Sir Broc would rather wait for a more auspicious time as he doesn't see Lady Cora in quite the same way that Sir Laird did. Thanks for the compliment!

The story so far: Sir Laird has taken his retinue out of Cardonaccum and has encountered Legion forces on the road below the castle. His death was reported by a dying man-at-arms who returned to Cardonaccum. After a hectic day, Lady Cora finally finds time to give in to her own grief.

***********************
Chapter Thirteen

Blue-green light gleamed at intervals along the shadowed corridor. Corbeled vaulting soared above me, and the cracked, crumbling floor, coated with a slick greenish material, twisted my ankles as I tried to hurry. Why was I hurrying? I couldn’t remember. I never did, not at this stage. All I knew was that something pursued me, and there was no way out of this maze. The stone of this mystery structure felt unnatural to my bare feet, as if something inimical to life coiled within its crystalline mass. None of the familiar energy of Nirn could be detected through this hostile surface. That little voice I always listened to was mute. I was hopelessly lost in this strange place.

Booted footfalls sounded behind me. I glanced back, reeling against one wall as a uneven aspect of the floor tripped me. Far off down the passageway, a hooded, cloaked figure strode through one of the isolated pools of light cast by those hateful crystals. His face did not show beneath the shadow of the hood, but the steel hilt of his sword depending from his side glittered in the harsh light. If I was afraid before, I was terrified now. How did I know he meant harm? I had no way of knowing, no way of being certain. Yet I was convinced that if he caught me, my life would be forfeit.

Ahead the corridor twisted to the right, then led down a narrow, winding staircase. I half-ran, half-fell down the ragged steps, my hands bracing me between the curved walls of the stairwell. It gave onto a high, narrow hallway with vertical slots in the walls. As I approached them, a grinding noise sounded from my left side. I barely ducked back in time to avoid being sliced by the razored edge of the bronze pendulum. Two more traversed the pathway beyond. A trap! Panic rose in my throat when I heard my pursuer’s boots on the stairs behind me. I hesitated as the pendulum disappeared within the opposite wall, then darted forward to pause between the first pair. They passed by me so closely that my skirts and my hair drifted in the breeze of their passing. Somehow I managed to skitter into the space between the middle and last blades. As they crossed the hallway, I glanced back in time to see a shadow fall across the floor at the base of the stairway. Then I was on the far side and ran into the darkness.

Several strides later, short of breath, I looked back again. This time I saw the stranger reach the blade trap. Without hesitation he strode unhurriedly through the speeding blades, untouched by them as if they weren’t there. His hood fluttered back from his face, and I had my first glimpse of the man who struck so much fear into my heart. Close-cropped dark hair, a short neatly trimmed beard outlining the squareness of his jaw, and wide cheekbones. Though I had never recognized him before, I did so now.

General Talos.

I half-whimpered, half-sobbed in panic and fled deeper into the maze.

I startled awake when Cinnie’s weight left the bed in a disgusted leap. She moved to the hearth and began grooming herself as I sat up, gasping for breath. I wiped at the tears the nightmare invariably brought. My right hand crept over the mattress to the opposite side of the bed, where Wallace always slept. A sob escaped me when I recalled his funeral pyre. With a shiver, though the room was warm thanks to the banked fire, I slipped from beneath the sleeping pelts and made my way to the tall, narrow windows that looked north across the moor. I pulled the heavy drapes back, essential at this time of the year, and gazed out into the night.

Across the field of the narrow embrasure, a scattering of stars lay across the black land, glittering with a softer, redder glow than the stars in the firmament above. I studied the bits of the constellations visible through rents in the overcast. There’s the Mage. It’s late. Or rather early. Dawn is just a couple of hours away. I could barely make out the heavy frost that lay on the manicured grass between the bailey walls and the moat, now full and reflecting black. Feels like snow. As I watched, the open spaces among the clouds disappeared.

Drawing the drapes closed, I returned to the bed and sat on its edge. We can hold out through the winter. But can we survive an attack? If Talos digs in for the winter, he’ll be exposed to the weather. He’ll lose more men to frostbite and cold-wrought disease than he would assaulting our walls. There is also the problem of securing supplies for his army, so far from the Colovian Estates. The lands won’t support an army of his size for long. The seas will soon be too stormy for shipping. Time is on our side. But he knows this, and he won’t likely sit this one out. He intends to take us by force. Then why did he come to me with the offer of truce? Why bother when he can just overwhelm the castle and occupy it with his own forces?

Cinnie leaped back onto the bed and rubbed her body against my side before padding into my lap. As I absent-mindedly stroked her fur, she arched her back beneath my chin, then turned around and repeated the same procedure from the other side. She continued purring as my thoughts returned to the problem of the siege.

Do I dare hold out? Without Laird’s men, my forces are badly depleted. I can’t count on Broc to keep his men on alert, though I did see a few of them on the walls today. On the plus side, the stores we have laid by will last longer. If we can just hold Talos’s men off, we can make it through the winter. But when spring comes, then what? If Talos digs in for the long haul, he can keep us from replenishing our stocks. And if our crofters can’t get to their fields, what will they do? They may start drifting away from Cardonaccum. And I can’t keep so many people confined within the bailey for so long - we’ll suffer cold-wrought disease too, and those diseases common where people are forced to live on top of each other.

Suddenly I couldn’t sit still any longer. I caught Cinnie in the act of settling herself into my lap and scooped her into my arms. I hugged her soft body before setting her down on the bed. Disgusted, she watched as I changed my clothes, pulling out my winter kirtle. The thick creamy linen fell around my slender body and covered my feet. Unlike the shorter skirts of the other women at Cardonaccum, which stopped at the ankles to both keep the hems from dragging in the dust and mud and to show off fancy shoes, mine trailed a little on the ground, keeping my feet warm.

When I had first come to Cardonaccum, a scandalized Jannet tried to get me to wear shoes. As I had been barefoot as long as I could remember, I had been resistant at first. Finally I had given in when I became tired of the constant stares from the crofters and other folk who sought audience with Wallace. But wearing shoes severed my connection with Nirn in ways that stone and timber floors did not. My normally healthy appetite disappeared. I began experiencing my nightmares almost nightly, instead of once a sevenday or two. A chill settled into my lungs, and I began coughing blood. Then my menses stopped, and everyone thought I had become pregnant. Everyone except me. I knew something was wrong with me. I lost weight and became too weak to tend to my new duties as Lady of Cardonaccum.

It was Wallace who saved my life. Wallace who plucked me from my sickbed and carried me out into the moat, dry at the time. Wallace who forbade me to ever wear shoes again, and helped me stand on my bare feet in the reeds and mud at the bottom of the moat. It was Wallace who taught me not to hide from myself, but to accept me for who I am - a magicka-less Witch with a deep connection to the bones and blood of Nirn. Ever since then, I had worn the long skirts so strangers wouldn’t stare so much at my feet, their soles callused and hard from a lifetime of contact with ground, stones and timber.

If I had ever doubted that Wallace loved me, those doubts disappeared that chilly spring day in the moat beneath the drawbridge. And I had loved him with my whole heart ever since. And tonight - tonight my heart felt empty, bloodless, a hollow husk of its former self.

Enough of this self-pity. What would Wallace want you to do for Cardonaccum? I fished out the dark brown woolen cotehardie and slipped it on over the kirtle. As I laced up the front, my fingers hesitated. What would Wallace do for this place? Why was this so important to him? I caught up the black winter cloak and Thistlethorn. With Cirsium gone, I’d best keep Thistlethorn with me at all times.

The donjon was quiet as I slipped out into the bailey. I could see movement on the walls caused by the watch pacing their rounds. Stamping sounds reached me while I crossed the courtyard. Instead of entering the gate towers, I used the exterior stair to gain the parapets atop the walls.

The thistlemen greeted me with some surprise as I passed them, one after the other. The watch lieutenant, a burly-chested Breton, met me as I stepped into the southeastern corner tower. “Milady?”

“I just c- came to see how everything was atop the walls,” I answered his unspoken question. “It’s a miserable t- time of the night, and miserable weather.”

“Aye, that it is,” he agreed, nodding his shaggy head. “Do you need to speak to Robert?”

Suddenly I knew what I needed to do. “Yes, please. Please ask him t- to meet me over the postern gate.”

“Very well, milady,” he bowed, then opened the door to let me onto the eastern wall of the bailey.

Robert met me on the north wall, his cloak snapping in the breeze that had built up as the sky crept toward dawn. As I looked up at him, snowflakes hit my cheeks. Robert glanced at the dark overcast. “Bad weather on the way. It might work in our favor.” He lowered his eyes to me. “What is on your mind, milady?”

“Where would General T- Talos pitch his tent?” I got right to the point. It was too cold to take longer.

Robert’s brows rose in startled bemusement. He lifted his eyes to the scattered campfires spread across the moor. “He’d want to be on high ground, where he can see as much of the area as he can,” he said finally, turning to point eastward. I gazed at the foothills that sprawled along the base of the snow-capped Wrothgarians. Already I could see snow dusting the higher peaks of the hills. Robert regarded me silently for a few moments. “You can’t be thinking what I’m thinking you’re thinking,” he muttered.

I met his gaze. “And what is that?”

“You’re going to accept his proposal,” Robert stepped past me to lean his roughened hands on the stone parapet. He gazed out over the moor.

“Do you see any other way to keep Cardonaccum alive?” I asked. “You and I both know that General T- Talos can’t stay here much longer. It’s because time is so limited for him, that it’s limited for us.” I moved to stand beside Robert, gazing out at the constellations of campfires a few miles away. “We can resist him, withstand anything except dragons -“

“And there are no dragons left,” Robert added. “But I hear he has a very powerful battlemage allied with him.”

“Yes, and that’s why we can’t be too c- complacent about waiting him out.” I drew my cloak closer around me against the wind. “The General can’t stay here and starve us out - his supply lines are too vulnerable. And he can’t turn back south and leave a hostile holding in his rear.”

“But can you trust him to keep his word on the truce, any truce you may strike with him?” Robert asked. “After all, he slaughtered your kinsmen after they surrendered to him.”

I closed my eyes at the reminder. “Don’t forget, we don’t have the entire story,” I responded. “For all we know, th- they were plotting to stab him in the back, and he was just taking care of a threat in the most effective way possible.”

“How can you say that about your own father and brother?” Robert exclaimed softly, turning his head in my direction.

I kept my eyes on the distant encampment. “I know th- them too well,” I could hear the coldness in my voice, the coldness I felt every time I thought of them. “My father turned on my mother when she trusted him. H- he betrayed me, too, though it’s nothing compared to the other.” I shook my head. “It wouldn’t surprise me that they were going to t- turn on the General once they had what they wanted.”

“So slaughtering twenty-three countrymen in cold blood can be forgiven?”

I sighed. “I don’t know what to th- think,” I said finally. “But after having met the General, I’m not so certain he’s so cold-blooded as the stories say.” Or as he appears in my nightmares.

Robert paced away from me, then spun slowly on his heel and returned, his expression inscrutable in the torchlight. Finally he lifted his gaze to me. “How do you propose to do this?”

“I must go to him,” I answered slowly, hoping my stutter wouldn’t worsen. “And I must do it now. Neither of us has time. If he hasn’t attacked us yet, h- he’ll do it tonight for certain.” I inhaled slowly, drawing on the strength I could feel in the stones beneath my feet. “But I can’t leave Cardonaccum without a leader. I’ll go alone, and you must lead h- here until I return.” I faced him fully. “It would be best if folk didn’t know of my absence as long as possible.”

“You should have someone accompany you, one of the thistlemen -“ Robert began, but I shook my head.

“There is a reason I go barefoot even in the coldest depths of winter,” I said softly. “I go alone, and I will be fine.”

Posted by: jack cloudy Sep 22 2013, 07:55 PM

Well, I figured that Laird wanting to return later was a given. But it doesn't matter anymore. He threw the dice and lost. Now the biggest remaining (internal) threat is mister adonis.


Moving on, nightmares are never pleasant. Sure, I suppose mine aren't quite as bad, but after more than ten years of having the same drat subject repeat over and over I'm more tired than terrified of it. And I picked up an odd habit of going lucid which results in said nightmares being punched in the face. That helps.


Anyhow, I thought the flashback was interesting. Not just as a reaffirmation of Cora's trust in the late Wallace, but also as quite clearly showing that the barefootedness is more than a cultural quirk.


One other thing that I realized which works against the thistlemen in a siege. Talos pretty much owns Cardonaccum's lands. That means that he can ruin the fields. So even if he does retreat, the holding's ability to regrow food during spring and summer will be seriously impaired with all the problems that means.


As a result, Cora seeking another meeting with the general comes as no surprise. That she wants to do it all alone is though.


One question remains now for me. Does she leave the sword with Robert or take it with her? On the one hand Robert could be opposed by Broc if he doesn't have the symbol of rulership and the thistlemen could see her taking the sword away from the castle as a betrayal. On the other, Robert having Thistlethorn could be seen as a sign that Cora is gone or that Robert betrayed her. (hey, even if that is patently false and all, Broc can always claim it as leverage against Robert.)

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 22 2013, 08:10 PM

Now that was some nightmare! Poor Cora. Somehow I think these nightmares are not mere coincidence.

Cora weighs her options very well. Unfortunately, none of them look good. They all seem to come down to the question of why did Talos come to her and put himself in danger to make his proposal, if he does indeed mean to storm the castle? Methinks that his army outside the gates is a show, meant to prod Cora into making an alliance.

I loved the story/explanation about Cora barefootness, and how it connects her to the forces of nature.

Interesting story about the aftermath of the Battle of Sancre Tor and the slaughter of the Breton and Nord prisoners. Cora's father sounds like he was one piece of work! It reminds me of Richard Lionheart's massacre of the muslim prisoners at Ayyadieh. He tried to ransom them to Saladin, but Saladin deliberately stalled in order to buy time. In the end it was plain that there was never going to be a ransom or prisoner exchange, and Richard could not keep the muslims prisoner indefinitely. So he had little choice other than to kill them all.

Posted by: Captain Hammer Sep 23 2013, 04:28 AM

And so I am caught up again. Huzzah for a weekend in bed (or chairs) with a miserable cold. Go me.

I was trying to picture where that nightmare was supposed to be occurring and what it meant before the good ol' triple-blade trap made its appearance. That was a nice touch, and Cora's discomfort only made it better.

So, if Cora is wearing shoes, she starts to experience the effects Supes gets when exposed to background Kryptonite poisoning? I'll keep that in mind whenever I have to invade parts of High Rock after I take care of a few things. Though I have to ask you to stop showing Wallace to be all the types of awesomeness he appears to have been. I'm starting to develop a massive man-crush on him. Not the same type of fanboyism I have for a certain other person, but still one I'm going to have keep in check.

*Cappy suddenly crouches down and begins looking around.* Really? And here I thought Dhertee Innu Endo was about to sneak attack me. Huh. Weird.


Ha! Good one. Robert doesn't know that his statement requires a 'For now' to be appended to it for accuracy.

One nit:

I don't believe swords are used to fight incontinence (though they seem to cause it in others...). And unless the masked man is holding his sword straight up at his side, the hilt is unlikely to be descending from such a position, either. Perhaps 'protruding' or 'extending' would be appropriate here.

I love this little exchange:


Ah, the joys of family. I am not surprised. The general was confidant during his meeting with Lady Cora that his words would be heard and his blood stored safely in his veins. Methinks the obligations of family doth protest too much the more important obligations of not being a total guar-posterior.

So, Lady Cora is going to ride out, alone, to accept the offer of alliance, from the masked man of nightmares-turned-Dragonborn general of the empire. I wonder how things will fare this time when Lady Cora is the guest and the host is GENERAL TALOS STORMCROWN, DRAGON OF THE NORTH!!!!

D@mnit. Almost an entire post and I still couldn't help myself.

Posted by: Acadian Sep 23 2013, 11:28 AM

Loved your use of the same type of blade trap that we all have had to navigate in various dungeons in Cyrodiil. It was neat to actually experience one of Cora’s dreams about Talos that she had previously only mentioned. Then, I couldn’t suppress a chuckle over how much comfort the unconcerned dear little cat provided when Cora awoke.

Extra long skirts are just the thing to keep a barefooted witch’s feet warm! What an endearing story of how Wallace supported Cora in that regard. We have always held Wallace in great respect for his leadership and judgment, but this brief memory really let us 'see' how much he loved Cora. What a precious memory!

‘...his cloak snapping in the breeze...’ - - Beautiful imagery here.

“There is a reason I go barefoot even in the coldest depths of winter,” I said softly. “I go alone, and I will be fine.” - - I may be mistaken here, but I think I detect a hint (or perhaps a foreshadow?) that the barefoot witch is not as defenseless as she appears. Not with all the magic of Mother Nirn at her feet.

Posted by: ghastley Sep 23 2013, 03:27 PM

Since Talos has played the card of putting himself in her camp to indicate that he was in a position of strength that allowed him to do so, it's fitting that Cora repays in kind. Acadian has already pointed out that "the barefoot witch is not as defenseless as she appears" and she'd probably like Talos to understand that, too.

Nice cameo from the cat. We need more Cinnie!

Posted by: Grits Sep 25 2013, 03:13 AM

This time I saw the stranger reach the blade trap. Without hesitation he strode unhurriedly through the speeding blades, untouched by them as if they weren’t there.

What a fabulous dream sequence! I remember the tease when Cora first saw Talos, and now we get to see an actual dream. That was excellent. How wonderful to learn of Cora’s connection with Nirn through that vivid memory. I am SO going to read this again when I can go through multiple sections in a sitting!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 29 2013, 06:34 PM

@jackcloudy: You're right, the besieged won't have access to their resources outside the castle. That is part of the reason Lady Cora decided to go see General Talos. She is concerned about having enough supplies to get through the upcoming winter, let alone a siege on top of it. She can't be certain that General Talos has not solved his logistics problem.

@Sage Rose: I rather suspected that you would enjoy the little story behind Lady Cora's barefootedness. It is something unique to this protagonist, and something that I feel rather balances the fact that she is a Breton, which tend to be rather overpowered magically in the game (as I'm discovering with my latest PC).

@BamBam: Thanks for the nit - I went back and fixed it. Of course, I have to make Wallace pretty darn cool in his own right, otherwise Lady Cora would be too easily overwhelmed by the awesomeness that is THE ONE AND ONLY DRAGONBORN OF THE NORTH!!!

@Acadian: I figured it was time we saw the sort of dreams General Talos keeps appearing in. Of course, I kept thinking of Emperor Uriel's line 450 years later . . . "You, I've seen you in my dreams . . ."! Cats are fun to write as they are independent creatures and do as they please. Most of the time they please to behave as the Cheshire Cat and disappear/reappear at their own whim. Yes, big comfort indeed!

ghastley: You make a good point about Lady Cora wanting to show that she is undaunted by General Talos. I rather suspect her choice to go alone to Talos's camp is a mild affliction of one-upmanship - she has more guts to show up by herself, without even the skeleton escort Talos took with him to Cardonaccum. Yes, we need more Cinnie!

@Grits: One of the most frustrating things about posting things on this forum is that it forces you to present the story in bite-sized pieces, rather than as a full seven-course meal. (Can you tell I'm trying to figure out what to make for dinner tonight??).

The story so far: Sir Laird and his retinue has fled Cardonaccum, with the shield Cirsium and the Pillsbury Priest in tow. Unfortunately, we know of his death at the hands of the Legion troops in the dean below the castle. What we do not yet know is the fate of Lady Edine, her sons, or Onchu. Lady Cora has made her decision regarding General Talos's proposal and has set off before dawn to seek him out.

***************************
Chapter Fourteen

My feet followed an unseen path through the brambles that cloaked the foothills. The sky beyond the Wrothgarians began to lighten when I heard a rustling off to one side. I stopped and froze in place, turning my head left then right to locate the sounds. Almost immediately the noise stopped. Too big to be a deer. Can’t be bear, they’ve already gone to ground for the winter. Could I have already reached Talos’s outposts?

When the silence persisted, I continued forward, holding my cloak closely around me to avoid entanglement in the thickets. A few strides later the rustling sounded again, this time in front of me. Once more I stopped and peered ahead through the gnarled branches. A dark form appeared before me, broad-shouldered and bulky. With a soft susurrus of mail, the stranger pushed the brambles aside. I held my ground and waited.

He looked down at me silently, then his hands shifted. A greenish glow followed a snapping sound, and a globe of light took shape in his cupped palm. He held it up so its light fell on me. “Let me see your face.”

My hands shook with more than the cold as I obeyed his command. His eyes widened as he took in my appearance. I knew he had seen the green mote in my left eye. I had inherited the dark brown eyes with ice-green flecks from my father, even though I had not inherited his magical ability. While both of his eyes had several such marks, I only possess the one in my left eye. But it was my trait, the one feature people recognized me by.

“What brings you here, Lady Cora of Cardonaccum?” the soldier asked.

I swallowed some moisture back into my mouth. “I seek General Talos,” I answered. For once my stutter remained mute in spite of my anxiety and fear.

He considered me a moment more, then dispelled the light with a toss of his hand. More magicka sparkled from his hand, winding in thin trails through the branches to either side of us. Then he stepped back and motioned for me to follow him.

He’s a ranger, I realized suddenly. Talos must have forest rangers as outposts here. Makes sense - they can communicate without sounds. That white magicka - that was his way of signaling the other sentries. Wonder what his orders were? Hold the line? I shook myself and concentrated on keeping up with his longer strides over the rough ground.

Before long we reached a small stream, flat stones protruding above the chuckling water. Beyond, the brambles had been cleared away, and neat groups of tents clustered together around campfires.

The ranger stepped onto the stones, then paused in the center of the watercourse and extended his hand back to me. Silently I declined his offer of help and made my way easily across the stones, ice already forming on some of them.

The camp was mostly quiet, with very few men patrolling between the tents. Those that saw us eyed me speculatively, but did not detain or question my escort. Finally we reached a cluster of four larger tents, each with a brace of guards before its entrance. A burly man, a sergeant by the white scarf around his right arm, rose from his seat beside the fire, setting aside his whittling stick and sheathing his dagger. “Hullo, Lucius. Who’s that?”

“Lady Cardonaccum,” the ranger answered. “She is looking for the General.”

“Is she alone?” The sergeant did not spare me a glance. I stepped forward.

“Yes, I am.” This time the sergeant did look at me. His gaze traveled over me from head to hem and back again, lingering on the hilt of Thistlethorn visible above my left shoulder.

“You’ll have to give me that weapon,” he held his hand out decisively.

“No, I will not,” I answered. Somehow I managed not to quail at the look in his face. This is a man who seldom hears ‘no.’ “I will not go before General Talos unarmed.”

His eyes narrowed, and the sergeant took a step toward me. Lucius stopped him with an arm across his chest. “Look at her, man,” he said softly. “That claymore’s as big as she is. Do you honestly think she can do harm with it?”

“She’s a Witch,” the sergeant growled. “And Witches can do things mere mortals can’t!”

“I wish that were true,” I drew his attention back to me. “But I h- have no magic.” I waved my hands around the tents. “And I’m outnumbered. There’s no harm I c- can do to General Talos or any of you.”

“I don’t believe that!” the sergeant growled, but he fell back to the fire.

“Where is the General?” Lucius asked.

“Asleep,” the sergeant responded, jerking his thumb at the smallest tent. “He was up late, and I ain’t waking him for this Witch!”

Lucius shot him a glare, then turned and walked to the indicated shelter. The sergeant did not take his eyes off of me, and his hand dropped to the hilt of his sword. I remained where Lucius had left me and folded my hands in front of me, my eyes downcast.

“General?” Lucius’s voice reached me. “Lady Cardonaccum’s here.”

I could hear the startled response from within, but I couldn’t make out the muttering that followed. Lucius responded with a “Yes, sir,” and turned back to me. “The General will be out shortly.”

“Thank you, sir,” I murmured, not moving otherwise.

The tent flap snapped back, and General Talos stepped out. Even in a dark doublet and leather greaves, he still conveyed an imposing presence. He moved to stand beside the sergeant, a few paces away. “Lady Cardonaccum,” he said. “I rather like the sound of that.”

I lifted my head and met his gaze. “It is what your man Lucius has chosen to c- call me, General.”

“And you came seeking me?” Talos continued. His gaze moved around the tents. “I’m sorry that I can’t offer you hospitality to match yours.”

“I do not r- require hospitality, General,” I answered.

Talos’s brows rose. “Then what do you require, Lady Cora?”

Slowly I let my breath out, then inhaled the cold air deeply. “Respect.”

His head reared back slightly. “Of course, Lady,” he answered coolly. “Let’s get out of this infernal wind. I don’t know how you can stand out here in bare feet.” He returned to his tent and lifted the flap for me.

Slowly, giving the baleful sergeant a wide berth, I walked to the tent and peered inside. Small. A table, a chair, and a cot. And a groundsheet. I met Talos’s gaze. “Since you know s- so much about me, General, you will understand if I r- refuse to step inside your tent.”

His mouth twitched, and he glanced within his shelter. His gaze moved from the thick woolen floor to the trailing hem of my skirts. “Of course.” He lowered the flap and pointed out the larger tent to the left. “Then let’s use that one. It’s where I meet with my staff.” He turned to Lucius. “Thank you for escorting the Lady. You may return to your post.”

“Yes, General,” Lucius saluted him with a fist slammed on his mailed chest. He faded back into the night as I followed Talos to the staff tent. Inside, braziers lit a long table surrounded by chairs. Rushes covered the dirt that floored the shelter. Neatly rolled scrolls in a stack rested in a tray at one end of the table.

“Do you approve, Lady Cora?” Talos asked. I nodded and stepped inside. He dropped the flap and secured it against the wind, then gestured me toward a nearby chair near one of the braziers. I seated myself, silently grateful for the warmth emanating from the shallow bowl. Talos moved to a sideboard, where a samovar crouched among small pewter cups. He filled two of them and returned. I looked up as he set one on the table before me. Talos took the chair next to mine and turned it to face me, then sipped at his cup as he sat down.

I regarded the cup he had given me. The steaming fluid was dark colored and aromatic.

“Do you think I would be foolish enough to poison you, Lady Cora?” Talos asked when I glanced at him. “I’m certain you left orders with your man Robert at Cardonaccum. Orders that would be costly for me or my men.”

Cautiously I picked up the mug and swirled the fluid within. The aroma was new - warm, rich and - slightly burnt? Its heat warmed my cold fingers.

“Have you ever had klah?” Talos’s gaze was steady when I looked back at him. I shook my head. “It’s like a Stamina potion - it wakes you up and gives you energy. Some people are addicted to the taste, others detest it. I’m curious to see which camp you fall into, Lady Cora.”

I cupped both hands around the klah and sipped warily at it. At first I could only taste hot, but as I held it in my mouth, additional depth of flavor developed. Dark, almost burnt. A little acidic. Bitter, like strong tea, but not as astringent. And the aftertaste is interesting. I looked up to see Talos watching me intently. Carefully I set the cup back on the table. “It’s intriguing,” I said finally. “And something I could become accustomed to.”

His mouth twitched in that curious manner, but Talos hid his expression behind his mug as he drank the klah a little more heartily. “It’s from Valenwood,” he said. “They’ve begun exporting it to the Colovian Estates.”

I found myself taking another sip of the klah. This time, I kept it cradled in my hands, welcoming its warmth.

“Well, Lady Cora,” Talos set his cup on the table with a decisive click. “What did you come here for?”

“What happened to the knight’s party your men s- stopped on the road yesterday afternoon?”

His brows lifted. “Sir Laird? He’s dead,” he rose and moved to the stack of scrolls. He selected one and unrolled it partway. “Yes, along with about half of his men. One got away, on the wife’s palfrey. The horse was injured, and last seen running back to Cardonaccum.” He looked at me with a question in his eyes.

“The horse is fine,” I answered. “The rider died shortly after he arrived.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Talos shook his head. “If only Sir Laird had surrendered when my sentries stopped him.”

“You said h- half of his men were killed?” I asked. “But only one made it back to us. Where are the rest?”

Talos returned to his chair and sat down. “I thought Sir Laird betrayed you?”

I looked down at the klah. “Where are the other men? And his wife? His sons?”

Talos leaned back and rested his right elbow on the table. He rubbed at his beard, his eyes on me thoughtful. “Why does it matter to you?” His fingers waved briefly before returning to his jawline. “Oh, that’s right, that was half your fighting force Sir Laird took out of Cardonaccum. Do you want them back?”

“They’re alive?” I held his gaze and waited.

“For the most part,” he answered, taking another draught of the klah. “The oldest son died with his father, the other two and his wife are prisoners, along with the surviving men-at-arms.” He leaned forward, his right hand dangling off the edge of the table. “Do you want them back?”

Do I? They betrayed me. What if Edine and her sons feel the same way about me as Sir Laird did? Would I want a nest of vipers back in my donjon? “I’d like to speak to Edine first,” I said finally. “And see the men. Though their knight betrayed me, I’m still responsible for them.”

“If I give them back to you, what shall you give me in return?” Talos asked.

I regarded the klah, then took another sip while considering my words. He waited patiently as I took my time. “Do you remember what you said to me yesterday?” I said finally.

“Very well,” he answered. “What about it?”

“I’ve given your words a great deal of th- thought, and -“ I paused. Once I say it, there’s no going back. I won’t be able to avoid the man of my nightmares anymore. But even if it kills me, so long as it keeps the folk of Cardonaccum safe, I have to do it. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your ally, so long as you support me as Lord of C- Cardonaccum.”

“Then let’s do it,” Talos rose and gathered parchment together. “Let’s draw up this damned truce.” He stopped and looked at me. “Are you certain you want Laird’s people back?”

“Not if they’re of the same mind as he was,” I answered. “In that case, I’m content to let you deal with them as you see fit. I have enough to worry about with Sir Broc.”

Talos’s response was noncommittal. He pulled the chair up to the table and began writing. “Here’s the outline of what I was thinking,” he said as he scribbled swiftly. I envied him his ease with the quill. “I declare you the rightful Lord of Cardonaccum. So far as local issues go, you have the sole authority. Neither I nor my representative will tell you how to run your holding. If anyone challenges your right to hold the seat of Cardonaccum, my men will augment yours and defend your position. Lieutenant Titus Alorius will report directly to you, and only to you. I will be the only one to hold the authority to supersede your orders to the good Lieutenant. In return, you will place outposts at the western end of An Sloc to monitor movements of Bretons and Orcs in the Wrothgarians. Any untoward activity will be immediately reported to me. You will also provide complete logistical support to my men at the same caliber and quality as received by your own men.” The quill paused as he glanced at me. “All right so far?”

Momentarily stunned by the swiftness of Talos’s actions, I nodded silently.

“Now the contingencies. If Lieutenant Alorius should disagree with your decisions, he is to advise you accordingly and -“ he caught my gaze again, “- with full respect. Both of you will be expected to resolve any such situations in a manner equally satisfactory to both of you. If such a compromise is not possible, then Lieutenant Alorius must report to me, and likewise you must send me a written report stating your side of the issue.” The quill continued scribbling as he fell silent. After a few moments, he continued, “If he should die while in your service, you are to immediately notify me and request a replacement liaison if you wish to keep the legionaries. This truce is terminated if you decide not to keep the legionaries, if you die without a successor nominated by yourself, or if I die.” He met my gaze. “It is considered null and void if I should fail to support you in your right to rule Cardonaccum, also if you fail to uphold your vigilance of An Sloc. It can also be terminated by mutual agreement between you and I. Fair enough?”

I held out my hand for the parchments. “May I, General?”

He set the quill down and handed me the contract. While I read it carefully, he returned to the samovar with his cup and refilled it. He was back in his chair waiting patiently when I finally looked up from the truce.

“One thing,” I began. “How do I know that you aren’t posting Lieutenant Alorius at C- Cardonaccum with the implicit purpose of gathering intelligence?”

“That would be his primary duty, of course,” Talos’s gaze on me was unflinching. “I require intelligence of movements in An Sloc, in the holdings surrounding you, and of any news from the Western Reaches.”

“And C- Cardonaccum,” I added.

“Of course,” he agreed. “It’s natural for me to be concerned how my newest ally is doing.”

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 30 2013, 01:43 AM

As expected Lady Cora has encountered Talos' sentries. But this is no ordinary sentinel. His light spell is the first sign, and then his magical signalling. It also seems that he has been told to expect her visit. I wonder if he had been one of the men who had been with the General at Cardonaccum? Or he had just been given a description of her?

It was also nice to have this new insight about Cora's appearance. Her green flecks are clearly one more little sign of her being a Witchwoman of the Western Reach, along with her barefoot connection to Nirn.

“No, I will not,”
This made me want to cheer!

“I’m sorry that I can’t offer you hospitality to match yours.”
I guess he does not have a salt room!

I see Sir Laird got what was coming to him. I expect that Lady Cora will try to get his wife released at least. Though I think a lot depends on how disagreeable she is. If she supports Cora, that can only help her cause, and she can come back home with the surviving soldiers and claim a sort of victory. Somewhat like the way Nikita Kruschev was able to declare the Cuban Missile Crisis a victory because he could tout how he saved Cuba from being attacked by America.

Well she made her alliance with Talos official. I was expecting that. What other choice does she really have? I am not surprised at how quickly Talos laid out his demands. I am sure he has been thinking of it for a long time.

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Sep 30 2013, 12:28 PM

I thought that this would be happening sooner or later. It was the sensible decision, really, and I don't blame Cora a bit for taking it; if I were in her (purely metaphorical) shoes it would be the call I'd make.

Even though his appearance was pretty brief, I found myself developing a bit of a soft spot for Lucius. I think it was his inception of the rather snappy title of 'Lady Cardonaccum' that did it for me, but I think the sort of professional courteousness of his manner was a nice touch.

In a similar vein, I found the use of the treaty being held under the title of 'Lord Cardonaccum' a nice detail, and it was a good way to show the patriarchal nature of Tamrielic/Cyrodiilic society(ies), how it has to be under a man's title in order to be official.

Looking forward to the next part, and I'll be intrigued to see how the rest of Cardonaccum reacts to this news.

Posted by: ghastley Sep 30 2013, 03:05 PM

Not that we needed any more evidence that she's the right one for the job.

I was expecting her to get a bit closer to Talos before she was detected, but you added magic-using rangers and changed the balance somewhat.

She's got the same terms she would have had before Laird left, and Talos has dealt with that problem for her, so preventing a damaging siege is worth it at this stage. If Titus Alorius is the antidote to Broc, she's done well.

Posted by: Acadian Sep 30 2013, 07:51 PM

And the deal is done. Cora acquitted herself well. If Talos is true to his word (and my gut tells me he is), ‘tis not a bad deal.

Much will depend on this Lieutenant Alorius. If he is cut from quality cloth, things may work out.

Hopefully, the stature Cora has earned within her own realm will secure the support of her own subordinate leaders and advisors.

I’m looking forward to hearing from Lady Edine. It will curious to see where her loyalties lie.

Posted by: McBadgere Oct 6 2013, 06:24 AM

Proper loved the meeting between Lady Cora and t'General...And that bit before with the nightmare was pretty epically unnerving...

Oooh, that Ranger was impressive...Did like him, minor appearance it may have been, still fantastic stuff!!...

Loving all the characters in this story...Much talent you possess there...*Applauds*...

An amazing story, that is an absolute joy to read...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Posted by: haute ecole rider Oct 6 2013, 10:11 PM

@SageRose: I'm one of those writers who like to reveal a little bit of my character's physical appearance little by little. In a culture where people are judged on their appearances, and being no supermodel myself, I want my readers to get to know my characters as people, not as cardboard appearances. That said, I'm glad you liked that little detail. And yes, maybe Lucius and Company would have had those cards with the images of Lady Cora and her retinue, much as American GIs had of Saddam Hussein and Co. in Iraq! We will see the sort of character Lady Edine is soon (just not in today's update). I rather suspect that having lived a traditional life, she, like Lady Cora, will soon figure out just the stuff she is made of and come into her own now that her husband's shadow is removed.

@Officer MyFavoriteCondiment: I rather liked Lucius, too. I really wanted to develop him more, but sadly enough, we won't be seeing more of him. I rather see him as being like Faramir in LOTR.

@ghastley: Yes, General Talos has thought long and hard about what he wants to do in High Rock. As I see it, he developed this plan around Wallace, but thought Lady Cora would be an acceptable alternative when things didn't work out the way General Talos wanted with Wallace.

@Acadian: You and I have the benefit of hindsight and the Lore, so we know that General Talos is going to be true to his word on this treaty. But Lady Cora doesn't know that yet. As for Lieutenant Alorius, I think you will like him very much. I certainly do! I doubt Lady Edine will disappoint you!

@McB: I try to treat my minor characters with as much care as my major ones - after all, they are living breathing beings with their own lives, emotions, and stories! More than once I've found myself going back and giving a minor character in one story their own . . .

The story so far: With Laird's precipitous departure and resulting death in a Legion ambush, Lady Cora has made the decision to go to General Talos and treat with him. The terms he has offered are reasonable and tolerable, though she still hates the idea of being submissive to a foreigner (ironic, as she is foreign to these parts herself - goes to show how much she loves Cardonaccum).

******************************
Chapter Fifteen

It took us another hour to hammer out the details of the truce. As we worked, I could hear the murmurs of men gathering outside the tent. Talos ignored them, intently focused on the contract. Finally he set the quill down and handed me the parchment. I found it difficult to concentrate on the writing as the voices outside gradually crescendoed.

Talos inhaled sharply as if becoming aware of the men outside. “Excuse me a moment,” he said. I looked up briefly as he rose and moved to the tent flap. Grey light poured in as he flung it back. “Keep it down, gentlemen.” Silence followed his quiet command. “It will be just a few moments longer.” He returned to the table as I finished my review.

“That looks fine to me,” I said finally. “What now?”

“We get the scribe in here to make a copy of it.” Talos returned to the tent flap. “Lysander!”

“Sir!” A thin man, grey with cold, entered the tent. His gaze flickered at me, then he glanced back at Talos, startled.

“Lord Cardonaccum and I have written a truce,” Talos said. “I need you to make a neat copy of it.”

The scribe moved to the table and picked it up. His lips moved silently as he read it. With a nod of approval he seated himself in the chair Talos had used. “How many copies, sir?”

“Three,” Talos answered. The scribe set to work immediately, preparing a fresh quill and new parchment.

“It will take but a few minutes, sir.” He bent to the clean sheet and began writing. His own hand was much neater and crisper than Talos’s. The general observed me watching the scribe, and motioned me to join him near the samovar.

“That’s why I have a scribe,” he commented, refreshing my now-empty cup. “I’m surprised you could read my handwriting.”

“Yours is far better than mine, General,” I responded before taking a sip of the fresh klah. Yes, I could grow to like this. But the strong tea’s still better.

Talos clicked his cup softly against mine. “Here’s to a profitable alliance.” He regarded the dark liquid in his mug before swallowing it all down. “Too bad the wine is cold this time of day.”

“That would be more appropriate for a t- treaty signing,” I agreed. “But this is fine given the c- circumstances,” I waved the cup around the tent. “This setting’s not so ideal, either.”

Talos regarded me thoughtfully. “I knew I would like dealing with you, Lady Cora. You don’t put much stock in the trappings of politics and diplomacy. You’re about getting the job done.”

I met his gaze. “I don’t have t- time, and neither do you.”

Again I endured his penetrating scrutiny. “I shall have to be careful not to underestimate you, Lady Cora. Ever.” He glanced over at the scribe, then set his cup down beside the samovar and bowed to me. “Excuse me.” With long strides he crossed the tent to the entrance and flung the flap back. “Gentlemen, you may enter.”

Six officers, resplendent in polished Legion armor, entered the shelter. The cloaked figure that brought up the rear seemed incongruous next to these soldiers, yet I could not take my eyes off of him. I could sense the power that emanated from his hidden form. His hood shifted in my direction, and I turned my gaze away hastily. I sensed his consideration of my presence, then he bowed to me before moving to the shadows still filling the corners of the tent.

Lysander laid his quill down and rose to his feet. “It is done, sir,” he said to Talos.

The general moved to stand beside the older man and regarded the parchment. “Very good. Go ahead.”

Lysander shuffled two more sheets of clean parchment beneath the neat copy. Under his fingers the material glowed a soft green. As I watched, fascinated by a use of magicka I had never seen before, the inked letters glowed as if burning through the layers into the table. Yet the parchments remained intact. As the spell faded away, Lysander picked up the pieces and examined each of them. Satisfied, he handed them to Talos.

The General performed a similar scrutiny, then waved to me to join him. Difficult as it was to ignore the stares from the officers now ranged around the table, I moved to Talos’s other side. He handed me the parchments. “Are these acceptable, Lord Cardonaccum?” Murmurs drifted around the table at the mention of my title, but rapidly died down at a quelling look from Talos.

Talos was right, the scribe’s writing was much neater than his. I examined them carefully, and found them identical to Talos’s draft. I looked up and met his gaze. “More than acceptable, General.”

“Very well,” Talos picked up the quill the scribe had used. He held it out to me. “Now we sign it. After you, Lady.”

I hesitated a moment. Am I signing everything I promised Wallace away with this? But I can’t think of any way to make this more fair to Cardonaccum. As for dealing with the daedra, if that’s what it takes, I’m willing to give up my life for Wallace’s holding. My gaze moved from the quill to Talos’s face. Shadows hid his hazel eyes, but I could read no duplicity in his expression. And my little voice was silent.

My hands shook as I laid the parchment on the table. Talos seemed mildly surprised when I plucked the quill left-handed from his fingers. I took a deep breath to steady my hand, then signed my name times three: Cora Ruthven. Silently I handed the quill back to him.

The quill faltered over the parchments when he read my signature. “Ruthven? Not ap Askey?”

“That was my father’s clan name,” I replied. “Ruthven is my mother’s.”

Talos considered me a moment, then bent back to the sheets. “Makes sense,” he said as he signed with flourishes. He straightened up and sent another glance around the tent as Lysander gathered the sheets together and handed them to him. “Gentlemen,” he said to the gathered officers. “This is Lady Cora, Lord of Cardonaccum. She will stand as my ally here on the northern frontiers, and watch An Sloc. Any objections?”

Negative murmurs greeted his question. He nodded in satisfaction and turned back to me. “Here is your copy,” he handed me the first sheet. “And this is mine,” he laid the second on the table in front of him. “And Drusus, please take this for the officers.” He handed the third to the eldest soldier present. The older man, about the same age as Laird, took the parchment with a salute. “Make certain all the officers understand its terms. And send out the order to begin pulling the men back to Thistle Downs.”

Drusus saluted Talos again and left the tent. The General eyed the remaining officers. “Roos, Forsus, have the Rangers scout the road to Bluestone Tower and clear the way. Skvar, set the rearguard up here. And Odwalt, you have the prisoners, correct?”

“Yes sir.” The younger of the two Nord officers nodded. “Two of the men died of their wounds during the night,” he added. “Do you want me to get them ready for transport?”

“Not yet,” Talos turned back to me. “ Do you still wish to see Laird’s people?”

“Yes, please,” I answered.

“Very well,” Talos turned back to Odwalt. “Please take the Lady to see your prisoners. I shall join you at your camp in about an hour or so.”

“Yes sir,” Odwalt nodded, then turned his blue gaze on me. Unlike Robert’s shaggy mane, his flaxen hair formed a close-cropped cap on his head, and his beard was trimmed short, like Talos’s. I realized that these Legion men favored the shorter styles as it made wearing the closed helms more comfortable. Odwalt’s only concession to his Nord heritage was the long mustache that drooped down either side of his mouth past his chin.

Odwalt moved to the tent flap and held it open for me. “After you, Lady.”

I stepped out into a much different scene than the one just a couple of hours ago. No longer quiet, the camp now bustled with men in various kinds of armor, all moving purposefully from one place to another. Horses whinnied and stamped, and squires darted past carrying pieces of plate and miscellaneous weapons. Somewhere beyond the tents, I could hear the clear calls of drill sergeants and the unified footfalls of men moving in formation.

The big Nord led me through the maze of tents and soldiery in a southerly direction. “My camp is set up in the valley before Cardonaccum - you call it a dean, I believe?” he remarked over his shoulder.

“Yes, any steep-sided valley is a dean in th- these parts,” I answered. Odwalt grunted noncommittally. He paused near a picket line where horses waited and considered me thoughtfully.

“I’ll walk,” I said firmly. A dubious expression passed over his features.

“’Tis a long way,” he began.

“I know these parts well,” I answered. “And I can walk quite fast. You can ride, if you’d like.”

His blue eyes flashed briefly as he turned away from me and continued past the mounts - on foot. As we worked our way through the hills to the moor, I began to regret not accepting the unspoken offer of a horse. Each of Odwalt’s long strides ate up thrice as much ground as mine. But I kept up with him, gripping the baldric over my left shoulder to ease the weight of Thistlethorn.

The sun had risen higher when we passed Cardonaccum and reached the eastern edge of the dean. Odwalt found the goat’s trail, its brush cleared back to allow passage of horses and armed men single file, and started the descent. Tumbled boulders blocked the rough path for anything less nimble than the little creatures that thrived within the valley. Quite often Odwalt paused to assist me over obstructions.

“I did not know they taught chivalry in Skyrim,” I commented as his hand lifted me over yet another rock.

Odwalt glanced sidelong at me. “T’ain’t chivalry, Lady,” he said as I returned to the dirt of the track beside him. “’Tis self-preservation. The General would flay the blue off my skin if I let any harm come t’ ye.” He indicated the whorled tattoos that covered the backs of his hands and extended beneath the long sleeves of his leather jerkin.

“Were you the one who took Laird’s men prisoner?” I asked as we progressed further down the trail. Odwalt considered my question for several silent steps.

“Aye, my men did,” he said finally. “Laird spotted my outposts and attacked them.” He shook his head in disapproval. “Fool, that one.” His tone held a scathing censure. “Thought that was all there was to us. Apparently when the rest of my men came up the road, he was off guard.” Again he met my gaze briefly. “I’m sorry, Lady. T’ain’t no offense to the dead meant.”

“You just summed up Sir Laird’s nature quite accurately,” I answered. “He was always impetuous. Wallace always had to hold him back, make him wait while milord assessed the situation.”

“Too bad Lord Wallace is dead,” Odwalt said bluntly. “If General Talos had had the chance to speak with him like he wanted, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

I stopped in the center of the path. “And whose fault is th- that?”

Odwalt stopped a few strides away and turned back to me. “No one,” he answered as bluntly as before. “Lord Wallace did what he had t’do, and so did General Talos.” I stared at him, until he shifted his gaze away from me. “Forgive my rough speech, Lady. I know no courtly talk.”

I stepped toward him. “I’d prefer the rough speech, sir,” I said. “It’s honest.”

“’Tis truth,” Odwalt resumed his walk.

“It’s just that t- truth is often painful.” I added, eliciting a noncommittal response from the big Nord.

A/N: http://i862.photobucket.com/albums/ab186/hauteecole/Cardonaccum/OdwaltPortraitSketch_zps7776db29.jpg?t=1381092994 is one of those characters who jumped fully formed into my mind as I was developing this scene. As much as I liked Lucius, for me Odwalt is much like General Camillus in another story. In any case, he has inspired me to pick up a pen/stylus and start sketching again.

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 7 2013, 12:59 AM

I kept looking for a sweetroll during the negotiations. But I suppose coffee will do.

As always, I loved the real world application of xerox magic in the hands of the scribe. I was hoping for something like that.

I wonder what the commotion is outside the general's tent? hmm, from that sense of power in the cloaked figure, I am going to take a stab and say that is Zurin Arctus.

I appreciated that Lady Cora signed her name using her mother's last name, not her father's. Especially given the betrayal hinted at by her father.

Odwalt is an interesting, plain-spoken Nord soldier. I wonder if we will be seeing more of him?

Posted by: ghastley Oct 7 2013, 02:59 PM

Was the "xerox magic", as SubRosa has called it, green because it's illusion, or because that's how real xeroxes work? I think it's a mix of illusion and alteration, so pale green seems appropriate.

I liked the little aside about Cora feeling the weight of Thistlethorn. A nice metaphor.

And I'm just as curious about the unnamed "person of power", and why he's there.

Posted by: Acadian Oct 7 2013, 03:28 PM

SubRosa nailed the highlights here – I fondly remember Destri’s little negotiating sweet roll as well! Document duplicating magic, the mysterious cloaked figure, all very neat!

Good on Cora for using her mother’s clan name. I’m surprised, given that TES women completely control racial DNA, that the whole world there is not more matriarchal. I guess the BethSoft devs got a little too much Roman Empire earthiness on them during game design.

Seems like Cora really wants to keep those bare feet in firm contact with Mother Nirn – no horses for her. Of course. . . perhaps with the right horse, she could develop a bond to Nirn flowing up to her from trusted hooves? Oops, sorry – thinking like a horse-crazy elf again.

Odwalt is a refreshingly different fellow, and I agree with Cora in liking his simple and direct manner.

Posted by: Grits Oct 12 2013, 05:49 PM

“I’m sorry that I can’t offer you hospitality to match yours.”

No salt room for Cora, then.

I love the mention of Odwalt’s blue tattoos. I wonder if they are connected to the game notion of magically protective Nordic Woad. That’s how I always think of it when I see blue face paint or tattoos in the games.

Posted by: Captain Hammer Oct 13 2013, 04:46 PM

There's a reason the saying goes "The Truth hurts."

Count me as another of those that likes Odwalt, but there's somebody else that interests me. A cloaked man of strange and significant power that seemed to study Cora before retreating into the shadows.

I smell some Heresy.

So, the terms are set, the treaty is signed, the officers have been told by their general that they'll be working with the new Lord of Cardonaccum, and it's now time to meet the prisoners.

Odwalt's keen-minded sense of self-preservation showing itself got a bit of a chuckle from me as I read this. A shame that he had to bring up Wallace's death as they're going to meet what's left of Laird's men.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Oct 13 2013, 06:06 PM

@SubRosa: Thanks for the nod to Destri's negotiations! I toyed with the idea of having a sweet roll there, but decided that this meeting was not as portentous as the Sweetroll Negotiations were! Yes, the coffee had to fill that role (pun very much intended!). GIven that there is little love lost between Lady Cora and her father, yes, it makes sense that she would use her mother's clan name. I'm glad you liked the Xerox magic here! Maybe that makes up for the absence of the Sweet Roll?

@ghastley: Yes, Thistlethorn is an excellent reminder of the weight of the responsibility on Lady Cora's shoulders. I'm glad you picked up on that little line.

@Acadian: It's not really illogical that some of Nirn's energy comes up to Lady Cora through the body of a horse. After all, animals are born of Nirn (the land ones, anyway). However, in mythology, horses are creatures of the ocean in many cultures, so it would make sense that Lady Cora would avoid riding a horse in order to keep as much of Nirn's strength as she can for what she still has to face.

@Grits: I'm not sure if Odwalt's blue tattoos are connected to the Nordic Woad power. It would make sense, though, that they are related! In that case, Odwalt would not want to lose those tats!

@BamBam: I enjoyed writing Odwalt, too. We won't see much more of him, as he is one of General Talos's senior commanders and therefore goes where the Dragonborn goes.

@All: That unnamed, mysterious, cloaked figure is a direct tribute to Destri's Interregnum. Those of you who are familiar with this unfinished epic (Destri, are you reading this? *nudge*) will recall who the cloaked, mysterious figure that always remains in the shadows is.

The story so far: Lady Cora and General Talos have signed their treaty. Lady Cora met some of Talos's commanders. One of them, Odwalt, is assigned to escort Lady Cora to the remnants of Sir Laird's retinue and his surviving family.

**************************
Chapter Sixteen

“The family is in here,” Odwalt stepped between the two guards and pulled back the flap of the tent. The same size as the others, it was set next to a crude stockade.

I paused in the entrance to scan the interior. No groundcloth. I entered and found myself confronted by a young boy, his fists pummeling my body. I managed to catch his wrists and push him back from me slightly. “Easy, Konrad,” I said. “I came to see if you and your mother are all right.”

“No!” Laird’s youngest son twisted in my grip. The middle son, Tevan, grabbed the eight-year-old and yanked him backwards. He squared his shoulders and faced me, his chin lifted in defiance. At thirteen he already stood just a few hairs taller than me.

“What do you care, Witch?” he demanded. I heard Laird’s imperiousness in his tone. “After you kicked us out into the cold?”

“Tevan,” a quiet voice reached us from the rear of the tent. I looked back to see Konrad holding his mother back. “Mind your manners. She is still the Lady of Cardonaccum.”

Reluctantly Tevan stood aside as Edine moved forward. The light from the brazier in the center of the tent highlighted her gaunt visage as she lifted her hands over the glowing coals. “I’m sorry we have to meet like this, milady.”

“I’m sorry, too,” I answered. “Lord Wallace t- trusted Sir Laird deeply. I r- regret that your husband would not let me do so as well.”

We regarded each other for several long breaths. The boys’ anger and resentment was palpable within the confines of the tent. Finally I took a deep breath. “I have been worried about you and the boys ever s- since I found out Sir Laird had departed with you. H- have any of you been hurt in the fighting?”

“Only minor scrapes and bruises,” Edine answered slowly, her voice breaking. “I was unseated when my horse bolted, and the boys put up quite the fight.”

“I don’t doubt for a moment th- that they did,” I said softly. “I would expect no less of the s- sons of the fine warrior Sir Laird was.” Edine closed her eyes and swayed slightly. Tevan reached for her elbow, but she gently shook him off. “I came to speak to you, Edine.” I continued after a moment. “I don’t want you to think I’ve been ungrateful for your c- company these past years, nor for your advice and friendship. It is because of that friendship I am here.”

“Are we still friends?” Edine’s voice was softer. “My husband aspired for Lord Wallace’s seat against his wishes. He may not have betrayed you, but he certainly betrayed his lord. How can you forgive him that?”

“What Laird did has no reflection on you, or your sons,” I answered. “He made his own decisions, chose h- his own path. No one told him to pursue the course he did.” I sighed. “What I’m really here for - “ my voice trailed off as I ran out of the words I needed to express my own thoughts.

“You want Cirsium back?” Tevan snapped from beyond his mother’s shoulder. “You’ll have to fight the entire Legion for it. Why don’t you just go to that General Talos and spread your legs for him? Maybe he’ll -”

The slap cracked through the tent. Edine glared at her son, spots of color stark on her pale cheeks, her lips compressed into a tight line. “How dare you speak to Lady Cora like this!” Some of her old spirit returned as she matched stares with him. “I should turn you over to her for execution in your father’s stead!”

“She threw Father out like a used up whore!” Tevan shouted back, his left cheek showing the print of her hand.

“She did no such thing!” Edine shot back. “It was your father’s choice to leave! As Arkay is my witness, it is my husband who was in the wrong -“ Her voice caught and she covered her face with her hands, turning away from Tevan.

“Mother,” he pleaded, touching her shoulders. “Please don’t cry.”

“Edine,” I said softly, taking a step closer to her. Part of me ached to take her in my arms and share her grief at the loss of her husband. For all his flaws, I knew Edine had loved Sir Laird deeply. “Edine,” I tried again. “I know what you’re experiencing -“

“No, you don’t!” Edine spat at me. “Your husband was honorable and fair, everything mine was not! The man you loved didn’t betray his liege lord!” She dissolved into sobbing.

I closed my eyes and turned my face away. “But I know what it is like t- to lose the man you’ve loved for so many years,” I said quietly. Unable to bear the sight of her standing there so forlornly, I rounded the brazier and enfolded her in my arms. Tevan glared at me but did not interfere when Edine grasped desperately at me.

After several long moments, her arms fell away, and Edine stepped away from me. She wiped at her face. “Forgive me, milady” she sniffled. “I’m not as strong as you.” She caught the startled look in my face. “You were so brave when they brought Lord Wallace back. You didn’t fall all to pieces like Larena did. You confronted General Talos in the courtyard and stood up to him. You weren’t afraid of him -“

“But I was,” I shook my head. “Still am. What he’s capable of, it frightens the daylights out of me.” I took a deep breath. “It is for th- that reason I’m here.” I looked from her to her sons. “Now that Sir Laird is dead, you are without protection.” I looked down and took her hands. “With half your h- husband’s men gone, your life and that of your sons are in danger. But it doesn’t h- have to be that way.”

“What do you mean?” Edine stared at me.

“I made truce with General Talos,” I said simply. “It was his c- condition for letting me speak to you and to your husband’s surviving men. Just because you are Sir Laird’s wife does not mean you are of the same mind as he was c- concerning my taking Lord Wallace’s seat.”

Edine backed away from me and moved to sit on the cot beside Konrad, who watched me with wide eyes. Tevan held his ground and faced me squarely. He drew breath, apparently for another tirade. But Edine stopped him with a simple “Tevan.”

“General Talos is making preparations for withdrawal,” I continued. “He will not s- stay here any longer than he must. That means Sir Laird’s manor will be accessible once again. Would you c- consider returning there and running it on behalf of Cardonaccum, as Sir Laird did for so many years?”

Tevan’s eyes widened as he glanced from me to his mother. Her face was as incredulous as his. “And my sons?” It was just a whisper from her lips.

“If they will swear fealty to me as th- the rightful Lord of Cardonaccum,” I said, “they can take their place in the vanguard when they are old enough. Furthermore, if Tevan should prove himself r- reliable, he can stand to inherit Little Oak when he comes of age.” I shook my head. “No sense punishing children for the s- sins of their fathers.”

Edine regarded me for several long breaths. Then she looked down at Konrad next to her. I took a step back. “I’ll need to speak to Sir Laird’s s- surviving men,” I said. “I’ll give you a little time to discuss it between yourselves.” This time I met Tevan’s gaze. “Like Lord Wallace, I don’t forgive betrayal, so once you make your decision, there’s no going back on it without c- consequence.” Without waiting for an acknowledgement, I spun on my heel and left the tent.

Odwalt turned from the nearby forge when I stepped out into the weak sunlight. He set the whetstone down and sheathed his sword with a question in his eyes. I met his gaze. “I’d like to speak to Laird’s men, please.”

“This way, Lady,” the tall Nord gestured for me to follow him. We wove our way through the tents toward the stockade gate. Four legionaries waited outside it, along with their watch commander. The younger man turned as Odwalt approached. “The men have been briefed, sir. They’re ready.”

I frowned at his words. Ready for what? Apparently Odwalt anticipated my suspicion for he turned to me.

“Sir Laird’s men may not react very well to the news of the truce,” he said. “I have your safety to think of in there.”

“I don’t need an escort -“ I protested, but Odwalt shook his head curtly.

“It’s a precaution, that’s all. If the men behave themselves, nothing will go wrong.”

“Those are famous last words, sir,” I warned him. He bowed, then nodded to the commander.

The gates swung open, and the four legionaries ran into the stockade. They made no sound other than the clattering of their plate armor, but still the prisoners within scrambled to get out of their way. I followed Odwalt and his commander into the muddy enclosure and moved past them to stand in the center of the rough prison. Two walls supported lean-to roofs, with rushes piled upon the mud. Several of the men lay beneath the shelters, bandages and blood stains and bent limbs indicating injuries. Another ten stood between the legionaries and their wounded comrades, watching them warily. One of them stepped forward and faced me. I recognized him as Cedric, one of Laird’s most trusted lieutenants.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “Come to gloat over Sir Laird’s failure?”

“Gloating over death of good men is th- the last thing I want to do,” I answered. “I know you followed Sir Laird out of Cardonaccum, after I warned him of the consequences of such an action. Unless you chose to follow the s- same path he did, I fail to see why you should pay for his choices as well. Do you believe he did the right thing?”

Cedric, his face worn and haggard from a night in the cold, regarded me defiantly. Muttering passed between the men behind him. “He followed no Witch, and neither will we!”

A few of the others cheered his words, though their voices lacked heart. The rest merely muttered some more. I met Cedric’s gaze again. “Do you speak for everyone here? Or only for yourself?”

He drew himself up and opened his mouth to speak, but shouting and grumblings from several of the prisoners stopped his retort. Instead, he clenched his jaw and stared at me with hatred in his eyes. I stepped away from him and cast my gaze around the enclosure again, looking each man in the eye. Most of them looked away from me, but a few more gave me the same defiant glare as Cedric. “You,” I pointed at the nearest of them. “Do you feel the same way as Cedric?”

“”Blivion yes!” the man snarled. “No Witch should rule Cardonaccum!”

“Then go make your stand with Cedric,” I said quietly. “Any one else care to join th- them?”

Three others slogged through the thick mud to join Cedric and his supporter. I turned to glance back at Odwalt. He gave me the most imperceptible nod. Good. He’s taken note of these five. I turned back to the remaining men. “Any more?”

“We have no leader, milady,” a pained voice reached me from the far side of the stockade. “Why does it matter what we think?”

I gathered my skirts and made my way through the cold muck toward the voice. Beneath the lean-to at the opposite wall, a man fought off the restraining hands of two of his comrades as he tried to sit up. Dark stains bloomed across the bandage covering his abdomen. Fresh blood gleamed against the dried marks. I knelt down beside him and laid my hand on the edge of the dressing. I met his gaze. “May I?”

“You’ve no magicka, what can you do milady?” he grumbled, but nodded his permission. I lifted the edge of the bandage carefully and studied the deep gash beneath. Through the muscle. He should stay prone. Else it will fester.

“What is your name, soldier?” I laid the bandage carefully back into place and looked into his face. Like Cedric, he was worn and haggard, and very pale. I touched his skin. Cold and clammy.

“Tomsen, milady,” he answered. “I served Sir Laird for more’n twenty years.”

“Tomsen, would you serve me?” I asked him. “Would you come and s- support me as Lord of Cardonaccum? Or do you share Cedric’s opinions about me?”

“How can I serve anyone?” Tomsen answered bitterly. “I’m no good anymore, milady.”

“Once you’ve healed,” I replied, “even if you can’t fight anymore, you c- can still train the young ones. And if Edine accepts my offer, she’ll h- have need of good men to protect Little Oak.”

“You’ll accept me, even though I followed Sir Laird?” Disbelief warred with hope in Tomsen’s face.

“Did you follow him because you chose the s- same path he did?” I countered. “Or did you follow him because you were sworn to his s- service? There’s a difference there, as far as I’m concerned.” I pointed at the five sullen men standing in the center of the compound. “They chose Sir Laird’s path. There’s consequences for that. Likewise, those of you,” I looked around at the gathered men, “who followed Sir Laird yesterday because of your oaths, you have a choice today. Choose to join Cedric and his friends th- there because you won’t swear fealty to a Witch, or choose to follow me and come back home.”

“D’ye mean it, milady?” one of the other wounded men laying three bedrolls away leaned onto his elbow to see me better. I looked up to meet his gaze.

“Even if Edine declines, I s- still have need of men who know Little Oak and who can hold it for me.” I looked back at Tomsen. “As I see it, better you than s- some legionaries I don’t know or trust.”

“What?” Tomsen exclaimed. “Legionaries in Little Oak?”

“I made truce with General T- Talos.” I said. “It was the only way I could get to see you. Part of that truce is that a c- century of his Legion stay here and augment my fighting force. And the only way that works is if all of C- Cardonaccum supports the truce.” I sighed. “If you don’t come back with me, I will have no choice but to t- turn Little Oak over to them.”

“And if we come back with you, and swear fealty to you, what of them?”

I shrugged. “Then they’ll have to quarter at th- the donjon with Robert’s men.” I smiled ironically. “To be honest, I’d rather have th- them where Robert and I can keep an eye on them.”

“If Sir Laird’s wife comes back, shall we serve her?”

“You’d be responsible for her safety and welfare, as well as t- training her sons to take their place in the vanguard when they’re old enough.”

Tomsen laid his head back on the bedroll, his eyes on the rough rafters above us. The other man a few beds away looked down at the rushes. The other men murmured among themselves. Tomsen’s sigh drew my gaze back to him. “I’ll not speak for the others, but I’ll come with you, milady. I’ll follow you to the ends of Nirn and carry out your orders without question. So help me Arkay.”

Several of the wounded echoed his oath, as did the remaining whole men standing by us. I reached down to Tomsen’s right hand and gripped it firmly. “As Lord of Cardonaccum, I will stand behind you and s- see to it you have what you need. So help me Arkay.” I looked around at the gathered men. “Are you with Tomsen?”

“Aye!” they chorused. They slammed their fists to their chests and bowed their heads to me. “Lady Cora!”

“Then remain here. I need to go make th- the necessary arrangements.” I moved to rise, and one of Tomsen’s comrades reached a callused hand down to me. I accepted his offer and gained my feet with his assistance. “Have patience. I will get you out of th- this miserable place as quickly as I can.”

“Yes, milady,” several of the men bowed to me as I made my way back to the stockade gate. My stride faltered when I looked up to see Talos standing beside Odwalt.

Posted by: Acadian Oct 14 2013, 01:12 PM

Lady Cora acquitted herself wonderfully during both of these tricky encounters.

Segment one (womenz and childrenz tent). I was relieved to see Edine’s mindset. If Edine returns to Little Oak, Cora will need to keep a close eye on those two boys to see whether their father’s bitterness festers or dissipates with time and guidance from their mother. Although Edine sounds up to the task of schooling her boys, the real influence will need to be provided by the example of better men and knights than Sir Laird. And Cora has some in her service. Hopefully she can recruit a few more from Laird’s imprisoned warriors during her next stop.

*pauses for a cup of coffee with spiced pumpkin pie flavored cream *

Segment two (makeshift prison compound). The fact that Cora was able to find the right words to coax many of Laird’s men to her flag was real testimony to how much there is to her, and how well she has grown into her role. So, Talos was watching. . . . I expect he cannot help but be impressed by the gentle and wise leadership displayed by Lady Cora during this exchange with Laird’s men.

Posted by: ghastley Oct 14 2013, 06:19 PM

I must confess to a bit of confusion, based on the way you describe the boys. You state that Tevan is "The middle son" but later you're suggesting he might inherit Little Oak. I don't recall if the elder lad fell with his father or not, but if he had, would Cora still regard Tevan as the "middle" one?

It would appear that Laird had been poisoning the relationship between his people and Wallace's for some time. I'm curious to find out what happens to those Cora doesn't take back with her.

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 14 2013, 07:20 PM

I expected about his much from the two sons. Looks like both are cut from the same cloth as the father. Edine however seems hopeful. She at least understands that is was her husband who precipitated matters, not Cora. There is a funny symmetry here. Just as Lady Cora has been forced to make an alliance with her former husband's enemy, so too is Edine. I am sure she will take Cora's offer. What other choice does she really have? In the long run however, it looks like the two boys will be a problem.

Cedric is it? I wonder if he is an entertainer? Looks like not!

Tomsen sounds familiar. One of the characters in Das Boot was Captain Thomsen, and his name was pronounced with the 'h' silent. He looks like a good prospect, if he lives.

Lady Cora handled Sir Laird's men well. I especially liked how she used the legionaries quartering at Little Oak as a point to help persuade them to come over to her side. Being defeated is bad enough, but knowing that the enemy who beat you will be living in your old house is just rubbing salt in the wound. Unless of course they are going somewhere else...




nits:
“What I’m really here for - “
Looks like your closing quotation mark is an innie rather than an outie. That is why I use straight quotes all the time. They are the same coming or going.

Posted by: Grits Oct 18 2013, 01:23 PM

“Did you follow him because you chose the s- same path he did?” I countered. “Or did you follow him because you were sworn to his s- service? There’s a difference there, as far as I’m concerned.”

I liked this distinction very much. Allies who keep their word above their judgment might be more reliable than ones whose opinions might change.

And Talos is watching. Good, I hope he is impressed.

Posted by: Captain Hammer Oct 20 2013, 05:44 PM

So, Edine knows the type of man that she married and widowed her. That shows promise and hope for her surviving boys.

I find myself sympathizing with Tevan, but that's mostly on account of recent experience, and yet I still found his words insufferable. Much as I don't think physical discipline is a useful tool, the lad needed that smack upside the head, and probably another.

The divisions of Laird's men-at-arms was a nice touch, and Cora's question about whether they followed out of duty or out of agreement struck me as typical of her: find the truth of the matter and the solution presents itself. It looks as though she'll have the majority of the men she needs.

Glad to know I was right about Mr. Shadowy.

And, oh, great, he's here. (See, see, I made it an entire post without saying it.)

Posted by: haute ecole rider Oct 20 2013, 06:48 PM

@Acadian: One of the things I wanted to do with Laird's family was show them as individuals with their own personalities, their own prejudices, their own priorities. I kept seeing Edine as this strong woman who has long served in a submissive role as wife to a domineering Lord. Now that she is a widow, this is her chance to show the stuff she is really made of. On the one hand Laird was a good leader and a good fighter, on the other his notions and ideas of the roles of women and children (and Witches) are reflective of the culture he grew up in, a culture that is undergoing tremendous changes at this point in time. Compared to the other races, I think Bretons would have the richest, most complex culture and traditions due to the mixture of Aldmeri, Nord and even Dwemer customs with a little bit of Yokuda thrown in to leaven the combination. As the Aldmeri Dominion fades into history and the Bretons hold back Hammerfell and Skyrim from their borders, I see them drawing upon the best of all of these races and weaving them into a tapestry that is an amazing construction of their own.

@ghastley: If you go back to Chapter 14, you'll see that General Talos informed Lady Cora of the eldest son's death at his father's side. As I saw that family, it was the most logical outcome - the eldest son would not let his father bear the brunt of the attack by himself, especially as said son is old enough to fight (and probably eager to do so - I think I had him as fourteen in my cast of characters). As the eldest surviving son, Tevan now stands to inherit Little Oak when he comes of age. I hope that clears things up for you?

@SubRosa: Tevan may have to unlearn some things, but I think Edine is just the perfect person to accomplish that task. As she loved her husband, she was fully aware of his faults and will be extra motivated to ensure Tevan doesn't meet the same fate. Eventually the Little Oak men who choose to return with Lady Cora will return to Little Oak with Edine. At the moment, however, they will return to Cardonaccum to heal first.

@Grits: You are right about Lady Cora's logic behind her question to the men - she realizes that loyalty to an ideal may be stronger than loyalty to a mere mortal. Keeping one's word, no matter how unfortunate it may be, makes such a person more trustworthy as you know what to expect from that person. Yes, General Talos is watching, indeed!

@BamBam: Wow, two posts without the rabid fanboyism that usually accompanies General Talos? That's impressive self-control! Yes, I was sympathizing with Tevan too, but agree that Edine is the perfect person to give him that http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=boY7i11aYRA

The story so far: Lady Cora spoke to Edine and provided her with options she did not know she had. Then Lady Cora met with Laird's surviving men and given them an ultimatum of sorts. She has one more task to perform before returning to Cardonaccum. We get to see a little bit more of Odwalt in this chapter . . .

******************************
Chapter Seventeen

To avoid the General’s gaze, I paused and inspected the enclosure one last time. I’m missing someone. Onchu. Where is he?

Odwalt stepped forward, his boots squelching in the mud. “Is there a problem, Lady?”

“I haven’t s- seen Onchu,” I studied the men again.

“The priest?” Talos apparently knew the name. He turned to look at the big Nord.

“There was no priest among the prisoners,” Odwalt shook his head. “At least, no priestly robes anyway.”

“He’s not here,” I turned back to Odwalt. “What happened to the men th- that died yesterday in the fighting?”

“They’re in the rear,” Odwalt answered. “We found a small farm and used its courtyard for them.”

I hid my grimace. “Please take me there. I need t- to find Onchu.”

“It’s no place for a -“ Odwalt began, but Talos shifted restlessly.

“Take her there. Let her see the bodies.” He turned and stalked out of the stockade.

“Yes, sir,” Odwalt spoke to his departing back. He turned back to me. “Have you eaten yet?”

“I’m not hungry,” I answered automatically, then stopped myself. Of course. This is best done on an empty stomach. “I’ll be fine,” I assured him.

A short time later I doubted my own assurance. In spite of the cold weather, the stench that hung heavy over the small steading caused my stomach to heave. I lifted my cloak over my nose and fought to keep the bile down. Odwalt waited until I recovered to some degree, then nodded to the burial detail.

“We’ve only begun separating our dead from those belonging to Laird,” he turned to me. “I suppose you’ll want to recover the knight’s body?”

“If only for h- his family’s sake. His oldest s- son, too.” I managed to speak without gagging.

He led me to a corner of the courtyard, where a few bodies lay stretched out. “These were the most finely dressed,” he said.

I dug my toes into the mud of the farm’s courtyard and made myself look closely at their faces. The tallest one was so badly battered I could only recognize him by the flaxen mane he boasted. “Yes, this one is Sir Laird,” I said. “He was carrying a shield with a red th- thistle on it -?” My gaze moved back to Odwalt.

He nodded toward the main house. “We put their arms in there,” he said. “I recognized that one as the one Lord Wallace carried into battle.” His eyes moved back to me. “We just identified it last night. I haven’t had the chance to ask the General about it.”

I turned back to the bodies. Next to Laird lay a younger form with the same flaxen hair, this one braided in the Nord style. “And this one is C- Connor, his son.”

“Very well, Lady,” Odwalt waved one of the burial detail over. The man had the air of some authority, and I surmised that he must be in command of this grisly task. “Brynhyfr, see to it that these two are set apart from the others,” Odwalt ordered, indicating Laird and Connor. “We may need to return them to Cardonaccum.”

“Yes, sir,” Brynhyfr nodded with the briefest of glances at me. As he set men to the task, I studied the remaining two bodies. They were of Laird’s senior command, one the captain of his manor thistlemen and the other the commander of his fighting force. Still no Onchu. I moved to the other bodies.

“It’s still messy, Lady,” Brynhyfr stepped after me. I turned back to look at him over my shoulder.

“I need to see all th- the bodies,” I answered. “Laird’s and Legion both.”

Odwalt moved to Brynhyfr’s side. “Are you looking for anyone in particular?”

“Onchu, th- the priest of Arkay who rode out with Sir Laird,” I answered. Odwalt glanced at Brynhyfr.

“There’s no one in priestly robes here,” Brynhyfr’s blue eyes on me were wary.

I turned to face the men. “And you’ve never heard of a quarry escaping detection by t- taking on the accoutrements of the enemy?”

“Sir,” this came from one of the detail carrying Connor’s body. He had paused at my words. “We did find priestly robes on the field, but no priest. And the knight’s baggage was broken into. We have no idea what may be missing.”

“Good man, Jony,” Brynhyfr nodded at the man. “Carry on, then.” The gaze he turned back to me held new respect. “Very well, Lady, we’ll check them all.” He gestured to the far side of the courtyard, where neat rows of bodies lay. “Let’s begin there and get out of the way of these men.”

“Thank you, sir,” I gathered my skirts and squelched through the mud after him.

Bracketed by the two big Nords, I worked through the bodies, examining each face and form. Few had the priest’s pudgy body, and none had his face. After a final look around, I shook my head, bemused. Where is that damned priest? Did he run off during the heat of the battle? If he did, it wouldn’t surprise me. He never had the courage to face up to any one he considered stronger or superior to himself.

I looked up at Odwalt, who watched me patiently. I shook my head. He turned to Brynhyfr. “Let’s go through the remaining bodies,” he said. “I’m sorry to get in the way of your men, but obviously it’s important to the Lady to locate this priest.”

“I don’t want to s- slow your detail down,” I turned to Brynhyfr. “The man I am looking for, if he dropped about t- two stone in the heat of battle, would pass for a soldier. Otherwise, there are not many bodies like h- his here.”

Brynhyfr’s brows rose. “Likes the good life, eh?” He turned back to the burial detail still working on the stacked bodies and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Men!” His breath drifted in the late autumn chill as his charges paused in their work and looked in his direction. “If you find any fat pigs in there, bring them to the Lady!” A wave of chuckles drifted across the courtyard as the men nodded their acknowledgements and returned to work. Brynhyfr turned back to me. “Sorry for speaking of your dead friend like that, Lady.”

“He’s not my friend,” I answered. “And I’m beginning to doubt h- he’s dead. I think he just didn’t s- stay around long enough to impale himself on a Legion blade.”

“Well, now that you’ve narrowed the search down for us,” Brynhyfr glanced at Odwalt, “why don’t you wait outside? There’s a grain shed where you can be out of the wind. We’ll bring any fat ones we find to you.”

“How much longer, do you think?” Odwalt asked his subordinate.

Brynhyfr shrugged. “About another hour or so, the way these men are working.”

Odwalt squinted at the sun, then turned and spoke to one of his aides. The man acknowledged his command and left the courtyard. Odwalt turned to meet my gaze. “Shall we take Brynhyfr’s advice, Lady?”

It had been a long morning. I sighed and nodded. Odwalt led me out of the farmstead. As Brynhyfr had said, there was a small three-sided shed set off to one side of the nearby grain field, its cribs full of grain from the recent harvest. Within its shelter, Odwalt brushed the chaff from the upper surface of a roughly-sawn stump used for chopping wood. He motioned for me to use it as a stool.

To my surprise, Odwalt did not waste time seeking a seat for himself, but crouched down among the scattered stalks that covered the ground within the shed. He didn’t speak, and I had too much to think about, so silence joined our small company.

Before long, his aide returned bearing a laden basket. He set it down between Odwalt and me and murmured something to the commander. Odwalt nodded and reached for the container. Beneath its rough-spun flax cover, he retrieved a wheel of flatbread and handed it to me. “Eat something,” he said. “I doubt you had anything since you left Cardonaccum, Lady. Besides, I’m hungry.”

My stomach confirmed his guess, and I accepted the flatbread with some hesitation. Odwalt reached back into the basket and pulled out a wedge of white cheese. After wiping his dagger on the napkin, he cut off a piece of it and passed it to me. I watched as he assembled a sandwich of sorts by rolling his own flatbread around another slice of the cheese. As he bit into his meal, I looked down at the ingredients in my hands. After a moment, I mimicked his technique and began eating.

Odwalt finished his sandwich first and licked his fingers. While I brushed the crumbs from my lap, he fished out an apple and held it to me. I regarded the red and green globe, then accepted it. He bit into his with gusto, and silence fled the crunching of the apples as I joined him in the enjoyment of the fall harvest.

“T’was a barefoot Witch in the village where I grew up,” Odwalt regarded the thin core in his hand. I looked up from my apple, only half-eaten so far. Avoiding my gaze, he tossed his core out the shed. “Never could understand how she could bear the snow and cold without something on her feet.”

I hid my smile at his comment, obviously aimed at me. Don’t tell him why. “Never reveal your vulnerabilities to the enemy.” Wallace’s words echoed in my mind. But if Odwalt is familiar with barefoot Witches, he must know why. “Did you ever ask her why s- she went barefoot even in the winter?”

Odwalt didn’t meet my gaze. Instead, he found a pitcher inside the basket and busied himself with filling the two cups with it. Milk, I noted as he handed one to me. He drank his down in a single draught and turned his face back outside. “Nope. Too scared of her.”

“Why?”

“Huh,” Odwalt shrugged. “She’d look at you funny, and next thing you know, you’re pissing blood and broken glass, or crapping rocks the size of these apples.” He shot me a glance as I spluttered into my milk.

“And you’re not afraid I’d do the s- same to you?”

Odwalt drew out another apple and bit into it. “I was a tyke then,” he answered. “I left home when I was twelve, never saw her again.” He turned back to the view beyond the shed. “‘Sides, you don’t seem as mean-spirited as she was, Lady.”

I finished my apple thoughtfully. Because of my stammer? Or because I’m easily the smallest person in this entire camp except for Konrad? But he hasn’t exactly been disrespectful of me, just cool. Or is it because of General Talos’s orders?

“Sir?” Brynhyfr’s voice stopped my thoughts. He stepped within the shade of the shed. “We only found two bodies that could be considered fat,” he said, saluting Odwalt. “I’ve placed them near the entrance so the Lady doesn’t have to go back inside.”

I leaned down and set my empty cup back inside the basket. “Thank you for your kindness, s- sir,” I stood and shook out my skirts. Odwalt rose to his feet smoothly despite his large-boned build and met my gaze. “I’ll go take a look at them now. I s- still need to return to Edine for her decision.”

Brynhyfr was as good as his word. I did not have to enter that foul courtyard to examine the two corpses. “No, neither of them is Onchu,” I sighed. So he is on the loose somewhere. Will he survive? Or will he be killed by something due to his lack of wilderness experience? If he survives, will he come back to cause me more grief?

“Very well,” Odwalt nodded at Brynhyfr. “You may finish up here.” He peered through the open gate. “Good work, men!”

“Sir!” They answered with a clatter of salutes and barely a hitch in their activity.

Posted by: jack cloudy Oct 20 2013, 07:26 PM

What's there to say that hasn't already been said? I'll just raise a few thoughts that occurred to me while reading.


Talos' men don't want her within striking distance of their leader while carrying a big sword. I like bits of common sense like that. Too often have I read stories where the swords and spiky armours and belts of human skulls (all covered in blood) are apparently invisible to everyone until its fight-time. Of course they let her keep hers in the end but the distrust is still there.


Talos and Cora dispense with most of the political nonsense during negotiations. None of that 'I know that he knows that I know, but let's pretend I don't' stuff. Of course, it helps that the framework of the truce had already been established in their previous meetings.


Laird's sons follow their late father in opinions. That makes sense to me. Laird has had a literal lifetime to spoonfeef them his version of events on everything and he seems like the man who would punish any (even verbal) disagreement from his wife. Combine that with them being sons of Cardonaccum's elite, and I doubt there would have been many who daredsay to their face that valorous Sir Laird might be wrong about something. And those that did, well obviously they are simple-minded fools under the barefoot witch's spell so ignore them.


Cora says that the sins of the father should not reflect on his children. Given her backstory, it is something she said as much for herself as for Laird's offspring.


She basically repeats this argument to his troops later on, but with more appropiate words for that target group.



Ironically, the guy i'd pegged as the least threat once he got out of the castle is still at large while the greater threat and his heir are dead.

Posted by: Acadian Oct 21 2013, 02:15 PM

A gruesome task indeed. I almost smiled at the potential image of pudgy and bloody Pillsbury dead inside a Legion uniform. . . but alas, the wormy doughboy has escaped it seems. His robes on the field of battle provided the perfect blend of both clarity and mystery surrounding his disappearance.

And it seems we've located the stolen shield of Cardonaccum as well!

‘I hid my smile at his comment, obviously aimed at me. Don’t tell him why. “Never reveal your vulnerabilities to the enemy.” Wallace’s words echoed in my mind. But if Odwalt is familiar with barefoot Witches, he must know why. “Did you ever ask her why s- she went barefoot even in the winter?” - - What a wonderful touch of ‘Wallace’ here, as well as a sharp reminder of how Cora has grown into her role – which now includes requisite precautions for self-preservation and constant care in choosing her words.


Nits? Both of these are dialogue, so if they are written as you intended the characters to speak, please ignore my comments -

“There were no priest among the prisoners,” - - Odwald oddly chose to mix plural and singular (‘were no priest’), but since most of his dialogue is grammatically okay, I wonder if you meant for him instead say ‘was no priest’ or perhaps ‘were no priests’.

“We’ve only begun separating our dead from those of the knight’s,” he turned to me. “I suppose you’ll want to recover the knight’s body?” - - Since ‘those of the knight’s’ applies possession twice, would not ‘knight’ or ‘Sir Laird’ be correct? The advantage here might go to ‘Sir Laird’ to add both clarity and avoid using ‘knight’ twice in close proximity.

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 21 2013, 08:51 PM

We did find priestly robes on the field, but no priest.
Uh oh, looks like Onchu slipped away like an eel. I expect we will see him return to cause trouble, once Talos and the Legion are gone.

“If you find any fat pigs in there, bring them to the Lady!”
This had me laughing! http://www.aetv.com/american-hoggers/

“Never reveal your vulnerabilities to the enemy.”
Good advice. This way she retains an air of mystery.

Well that was a fun tromp through the corpses with Odwalt and Brynhyfr. It was a disgusting task, but at least the company was good. General Talos' army seems distinctly Nordic now what the Battle of Sancre Tor is over. Dragon of the North and all that. Which leads me to believe that the guy in the cloak was actually Ysmir, not Zurin.

Posted by: Captain Hammer Oct 22 2013, 09:41 PM

So the sack of suede slipped out and saved his skin, eh? We knew there had to be something going wrong with this trip.

The details about uneasy stomachs and dealing with the dead was a nice touch. Never pleasant, that, unless you've got enough torches burning about to deal with the worst of it.

As for the control of my rabid-fanboyism, I should point out that all you've really done is inoculate me from being consumed by wild fantasies of what we'll get to see from Talos in this story. Mr. Shadow's appearance and your confirmation of his identity means that the Talos you're righting is a political, military, and societal genius. An awesome guy, to be sure, but not one that will be shown shouting down the gates or clearing stormy skies on his own, and most definitively not 'Fus Ro Dah'-ing some hapless assassin off a cliff as a practical demonstration of his more powerful, inner self.

Talos Stormcrown is a man.

Ysmir Strundu'ul, Dovahsebrom is something else entirely.

Posted by: Grits Oct 23 2013, 02:57 PM

“Sir,” this came from one of the detail carrying Connor’s body. He had paused at my words. “We did find priestly robes on the field, but no priest. And the knight’s baggage was broken into. We have no idea what may be missing.”

So Onchu slipped away. Neat that Cora had already anticipated he might be disguised in Legion gear.

The meal and conversation shared with Odwalt was my favorite part. I like the way he didn’t ask what he was asking.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Oct 27 2013, 05:51 PM

@Cloudy: Glad to see that you are still reading. It's good to hear your input on things. Not to give too much away, but of the three baddies (Laird, Broc and Onchu), Laird is the least of them.

@Acadian: Thank you very much for the nits - they have been corrected according to your sure guidance. I really loved the interaction between Cora and Odwalt here - he is wary of her and of the "hold" she seems to have over Talos, especially given her reputation as a Witch, yet he is somewhat familiar with Witches and she doesn't quite fit the mold. I would say he doesn't yet know what to make of her, and is correspondingly careful in his interactions with her.

@SubRosa: I've always been somewhat confused by what is Nord and what is Colovian - Cuhlecain is described as a Colovian king, but Falkreath, his small kingdom, is described as a city in southwestern Cyrodiil. I've come to the conclusion that the difference between Colovians and Nords are a matter of degree, and that the borders of Skyrim fluctuated greatly over the eons. You may be right about the cloaked figure from earlier!

@BamBam: I wouldn't be so quick to write off General Talos as a man - after all, he has the Dragonblood in him!

@Grits: Yes, I loved writing that scene between Lady Cora and Odwalt - I can almost see the struggle between the courteous gentleman and the rough Northern warrior here. Who wins? Ultimately I have to hand it to him to find the delicate balance between the two sides of his nature. I've always pictured him as being raised in the true Nord ways, and taught by a very tough mother to respect women, not treat them as chattel. Perhaps his father died when he was young and left his mother alone to deal with a large passel of kids?

The story so far: Lady Cora has spoken with both Edine, Sir Laird's wife, and his men. Her search for Onchu has proven fruitless. Now she must head to Cardonaccum and announce the treaty to the folk awaiting her return.

************************
Chapter Eighteen

Edine insisted on riding in the first cart with some of the wounded men, including Tomsen. “They are my responsibility as much as they are yours, milady,” she said to me as she clambered stiffly into the wagon. Konrad paused a moment, then climbed in after her, scrunching down in one corner.

Tevan moved to take the ox’s lead from the battered soldier. He glanced at me, then looked away, rubbing the animal’s neck.

The wounded had been placed in two ox carts, the bullocks found at a nearby farm whose family had fled the oncoming Legion. I made a note to keep these animals safe until the owners returned. They were strong, solid beasts, valuable to the farmers in this rocky country. Around them, the soldiers who had sworn fealty to me waited, their hands empty.

General Talos had refused to return their arms to these men just yet, instead putting the weapons into the charge of Lieutenant Alorius’s men. “Once we have vacated the area,” he had advised me, “Alorius will return the blades to your men. I trust you will emphasize that there will be no attacks on my men by yours.”

“Then give me time to s- speak to my folk,” I had said. General Talos had agreed, and now Lieutenant Alorius’s century waited just out of sight around a bend in the road, about five miles away.

Titus brought a chestnut mare up. The horse flicked her ears at me, then tossed her head. “You may ride this horse, Lady,” he offered the reins to me. “She is my distance mount - she is calm and has a comfortable pace.”

I rubbed my right hand down the mare’s long nose, neatly bisected by a long, narrow stripe from a oval star between her wide-set eyes. “I truly appreciate the k- kindness, sir,” I replied. “But I’d prefer to walk.”

“That shield is heavy to carry for long, Lady,” Titus indicated Cirsium, now leaning against my left hip. “And you’d be walking uphill.” He showed me the hook on the saddle cantle that accepted the handstrap of a shield. “She can carry it for you.”

“Not only that,” General Talos appeared at my side, “If your men see you riding a Legion horse, they’ll be less likely to shoot at my Lieutenant. I like him very much and would like him back in one piece, eventually.” He picked Cirsium up and attached it to the saddle.

I had to admit Talos was right. Still I eyed the mare, reluctant to sit her. Talos regarded me for a moment more, then leaned down to me. “Are you afraid of horses, Lady?”

“No,” I shook my head. How to explain?

“I’m certain you’ll be fine for the short time you’ll be sitting on her back, Lady,” he whispered. “She’ll carry you safely back to your donjon before you have a chance to fall ill.” He stepped back and met my gaze neutrally.

He knows entirely too much about me. Again I stroked the mare’s nose. “What is her name?” I asked Titus.

“Rosehill,” he answered. “Born and bred in the Colovian highlands, so she’s sure-footed on this rocky terrain.”

Talos knew I would accept the offer of the mare before I even drew breath to answer. He picked me up by my waist and swung me lightly onto Rosehill’s back. I bit back a yelp as his strong hands helped me find my balance in the saddle. Rosehill lowered her head at a touch from Titus, allowing Talos to guide my right leg over the pommel to the opposite side. He reached for the near stirrup, but I pressed my heel against Rosehill’s round side. Obediently the mare stepped sideways from Talos, pivoting around Titus.

“No stirrups, please, General,” I said, reaching down until my left hand found the stirrup leather. I jerked it up and draped it across Rosehill’s neck in front of the saddle. Talos and Titus watched in some amazement as I did the same with the other side. “I’m much more c- comfortable without them,” I added, shifting my seat and adjusting my skirts around my knees. “I usually just ride bareback.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so!” Talos half-exclaimed with a smile. His face transformed and became much less forbidding than his usual neutral expression. “Alorius would have left the saddle in the baggage train!”

“Then how could I carry the shield, General?” I countered. “It would just pull me r- right off the horse!”

Talos chuckled suddenly. “Point taken, Lady.” As suddenly as the sun disappearing behind a passing cloud, his face grew stern again. “Take this,” he handed me a rolled cloth. I looked at it. Red and black. Legion colors? His hazel eyes met mine when I looked up. “It’s one of our small standards. When things concerning the truce are settled with your folk, have this flown from your eastern gate tower. This will be the signal for Alorius’s men to approach Cardonaccum peacefully. We will also start our withdrawal at the same time.” His face grew dark. “But if you run into trouble, fly it from the western tower, and we’ll come armed.”

“It will be flown from the eastern tower,” I promised. “Th- thank you, General.”

He adjusted Thistlethorn at my back so it didn’t pull so much on my left shoulder. Then he gripped my knee. “Do you remember what you said to me this morning when Lucius brought you to my compound?” After a moment’s thought, I nodded. “You’ve always had my respect, Lord Cardonaccum.” He stepped back. “Travel safely.”

Titus flipped the reins over Rosehill’s head and handed them to me. He gave the mare a final pat and moved aside. “I will wait for your signal, Lady,” he said. Rosehill swung her head and nudged my right knee with her delicate muzzle.

“I will see you later, sir,” I gathered up Rosehill’s reins and twisted around in the saddle to look back at my pitiful train. Edine met my gaze and nodded. Ready. “Let’s go, Rosehill,” I whispered to the mare. At the slightest squeeze from my heels she started off at a sedate pace. I heard Tevan girrup the ox. Almost immediately the creaking of the oxcarts followed.

After a couple of strides, I decided to trust Rosehill and released the reins, letting them rest on her neck so that they swung loosely from her mouth. She did not hesitate but continued with her long, slow stride. Titus is right, she has an easy pace. I ran my hand down her crest, and she flicked one ear back at me but did not falter. Her sturdy body swung easily from side to side beneath me, and she followed the road unerringly.

Somehow Rosehill understood that the oxen would not travel very fast, and she matched her pace to theirs. I made certain to sit quietly on her back, and she made certain to move quietly under me. Her ears flicked busily back and forth and to the sides of the trail, but she showed no unease of her surroundings at all.

The sun was already gone from the western slope of the dean when we reached the last climb to the gates of Cardonaccum. After I checked on the train to ensure there were no stragglers, I looked ahead at the towers. Dark figures with steel glinting golden orange in the late afternoon sun lined the parapets above the gates. I thought I recognized Robert’s golden mane in the center and waved. He waved back, then turned aside. Faint shouts preceded the creaking of the drawbridge over the moat. It drowned out the sound of the falling water from the overflow gap beside the road.

Rosehill lifted her head and stopped as the drawbridge dropped into position. Four of the thistlemen ran out, their weapons drawn.

“Put your weapons up,” I said quietly. “Help get these people inside.” I kneed Rosehill to one side to make way for the carts. Robert strode out to meet me.

“I see you have Cirsium back,” he spoke quietly when he reached Rosehill’s shoulder. “And on a Legion horse, no less. I take it your mission was successful?”

“Yes,” I said as the first wagon rattled by. “Some of Laird’s men are wounded and need immediate c- care. Please have Siné tend to Tomsen r- right away.”

“How bad are the casualties?” Like the good soldier he was, Robert was already counting the walking and the wounded as the men moved past. “Half of Laird’s force?”

“Half of them died in the battle,” I answered. “Five of the s- survivors refused to follow me, so they’re still with Talos. Edine and her two youngest sons will r- return to Little Oak when the men have fully recovered.”

“Talos and the Legion?” Robert rose his brows at me.

I handed him the rolled standard. “Safeguard this, Robert,” I said. “I will explain once everyone’s inside.”

He tucked the cloth beneath his cloak without comment and turned back to the castle, calling orders to the thistlemen still within. After the last of the former prisoners passed me, I nudged Rosehill forward. She fell in behind the others and walked across the drawbridge without hesitation.

She’s used to the noise of bridges, I thought to myself with a smile. No wonder Titus likes riding her on the long marches. Soon we were within the bailey, and the drawbridge was being drawn up behind us. One of the younger thistlemen - Calum - took Rosehill’s reins. I looked aside to see Enrick waiting to assist me down. Throwing my left leg over the high pommel of the saddle was a little difficult, but the captain steadied me with a hand on my hip until I was ready to dismount. Unlike Wallace’s restless Nightshade, Rosehill stood quietly as I placed my hands on Enrick’s wide shoulders and slid off the saddle.

Once my bare feet were on firm ground, Enrick took his hands away from my waist and stepped back. “We’re glad to see you back safe, milady,” his dark expression belied his neutral tone.

“I’m glad t- to be back,” I laid a hand on Rosehill’s rump and walked around behind her. Enrick followed me and removed Cirsium from the saddle. I smiled at Calum. “Her name is Rosehill, and s- she’s on loan. Please make certain she is well c- cared for. I don’t want her owner to have any c- complaints when I give her back.”

“Yes, milady,” Calum responded. “I’ll make certain of it meself!” He smooched at the mare, and she followed him calmly toward the stables.

Enrick regarded the activity in the courtyard. “I take it these men are what’s left of Laird’s contingent?”

“Most of them,” I answered. “Five of them r- refused to swear fealty to me, so I left them in General T- Talos’s care.”

He snorted. “I’m certain we all know what kind of care they’ll get.” He looked back at me. “What will happen now?”

“I need to speak with Sir Rodric, Sir Broc, R- Robert, Captain Padriac and you,” I answered. “Then I will need to address the folk of C- Cardonaccum.”

“Where do you want us to meet you?” Enrick asked.

“Is Sir Rodric walking yet?” I asked.

“With a crutch, yes,” he answered. “No stairs yet, though.”

“Let’s meet in Lord Wallace’s study, then,” I decided. “Give me about half an hour or s- so.”

“Very well, milady,” Enrick saluted me. “I will notify Robert and Captain Padriac. Robert can speak with the knights.” He turned and walked away.

I moved to where Tevan and Konrad assisted Edine from the cart. Tomsen and the others had already been removed and carried to the hospital set up in the barracks. I spotted Siné already on her way there. Thank Arkay for Robert.

Larena ran down the wide steps from the donjon. “Edine!” she called. “Milady! You’re safe!” She bobbed to me before throwing her arms around Edine. “Oh, I feared so much for you when I found out Sir Laird had taken you out of here!” Edine hugged her back for a moment, tears springing in her eyes again.

“Larena,” I said quietly. “Could you please take Edine and the boys back to the r- rooms they had before? Make certain they have something h- hot to eat and drink. And get them out of th- those dirty clothes. Have Jannet arrange baths for them.”

“Yes, milady,” Larena took Edine’s arm through hers and began to lead her away. Edine hesitated and glanced at me.

“Go on,” I said. “You’ve had a difficult t- time. Now let Larena spoil you. Tomorrow’s soon enough to worry about Little Oak.”

Her arm still linked through Larena’s, Edine managed a half-curtsy to me. Konrad fell in behind her, his feet dragging in exhaustion. Tevan watched them go, then turned to me.

“Milady,” he looked down at his feet, “I - I apologize for the mean things I said to you before.”

“It’s natural to think one’s father is always right,” I said sadly. “Believe me when I tell you I know full well what it’s like t- to learn your father is made from clay, after all.”

Tevan bowed. “I’ll never repay the harm my father has done to you.”

“You are not allowed to r- repent for your father’s actions,” I hardened my voice. “He is the only one who can, and he’s dead. Water over the edge,” I pointed in the direction of the moat where the shimmering fluid fell away into the dean below. “You and I, we have t- tomorrow and the future to focus on. If you can give me what your father gave Lord Wallace so many years, I’m c- content with that.”

“Just tell me when to start!” Tevan straightened up his shoulders.

“You’ve had a hard day yesterday, and an even harder night,” I answered. “For now, go with your mother and rest. I’ll speak to you again t- tomorrow.”

[i]A/N: thought you might like a couple more images to enjoy. Rosehill in this story is a real horse - my first horse, http://i862.photobucket.com/albums/ab186/hauteecole/Avatar%20Photos/RoseBeingRose.jpg She was a Morgan who came to me at the age of 13. I was owned by her for the next eighteen years, and learned so much from her. Everything about Alorius's Rosehill is directly from mine. Rose passed away in 2009 and I still miss her, especially with this gorgeous fall weather.

And here is my sketch of http://i862.photobucket.com/albums/ab186/hauteecole/Cardonaccum/9d2b255f-4b66-4d87-abfd-443196966feb_zpsfb710178.jpg

Posted by: Acadian Oct 29 2013, 03:34 PM

“Not only that,” General Talos appeared at my side, “If your men see you riding a Legion horse, they’ll be less likely to shoot at my Lieutenant. I like him very much and would like him back in one piece, eventually.” He picked Cirsium up and attached it to the saddle.’ - - I’m liking Talos more with every appearance he makes.

“It will be flown from the eastern tower,” I promised. “Th- thank you, General.” - - Oooh, I like everything that went into this whole little bit about flying the Legion standard.

I’m so glad Lady Cora consented to ride Rosehill. Between the Legion mare and shield/sword of Cardonaccum, she and her train of riding wounded made for a powerful picture as they returned home to their castle. To me, it all enforced how much she really is Lord Cardonaccum – returning from her first ‘campaign’.

What a nicely done (and comforting exchange) between Cora and Tevan. Welcome news indeed!

Loved the wonderful picture of the real Rosehill! Having known the real Superian, I can identify with how comforting it is that when you put her in print it, in a way, immortalizes her. Thanks for sharing.

Nit: “Tomorrow’s soon enough to worry about Little Oaks.” - - Since you have consistently referred to Edine’s home as Little Oak in this episode and previously, I suspect the ‘s’ is an oversight?

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 30 2013, 12:01 AM

"I made a note to keep these animals safe until the owners returned. They were strong, solid beasts, valuable to the farmers in this rocky country."
This little, throwaway observation was a nice subtle piece of character building in Cora. On one hand it speaks to the simple harsh reality of life in Highlands of Scotland High Rock, and on the other it shows Cora living up to her responsibilities of not only leading her hold, but doing so fairly. Many leaders would have simply taken the bullocks as their own with no thought of their owners.

“If your men see you riding a Legion horse, they’ll be less likely to shoot at my Lieutenant. I like him very much and would like him back in one piece, eventually.”
And this says much the same about General Talos.

“I usually just ride bareback.”
Now it is my turn to not mention any dirty innuendos. Nope, not a one.

Very clever plan to use the legion banners. Once more we see Talos thinking ahead.

And so nice to meet the Real Rosehill. Not to mention the slightly real Talos.

Posted by: Grits Nov 2 2013, 02:23 AM

I was happy to see Edine stepping up to responsibility right away. Cora is a great role model.

The exchange between Talos and Cora about riding was subtle and delightful. And she usually rides bareback?

Her arm still linked through Larena’s, Edine managed a half-curtsy to me. Konrad fell in behind her, his feet dragging in exhaustion. Tevan watched them go, then turned to me.

What a relief for the family to be back in the fold. Tevan’s words bode well for his future.

How fun to meet the real Rosehill, and I loved your sketch of General Talos! He reminds me of Karl Urban. It’s great to imagine him now in the story the way you see him.

Posted by: Captain Hammer Nov 3 2013, 06:36 AM

So Talos loans Lady Cora a horse, a standard, and a duress signal.

Smart.

I'm interested to see how the rest of Cardonaccum will take the news that they are now the allies of the Legions. It looks as though Cora's doing everything to prepare for this, including having Cirsium back. Good to have a horse for carrying such a thing.

I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Which I suppose is either me trying to meta-read this story, or just the simple fact that your pacing is thoroughly measured and executed and only leaves me wanting more. Either way, I'm sitting eager for the next installment.

It's a nice touch to include the photo of your old horse, and your sketches of Talos and Odwalt were a welcome sight.

And for the record, I'm not writing off a man. I'm actually doing quite the opposite, writing off the legend and myth and leaving the man. I guess that's writing off the Deity-Walking-Nirn status as well, but hey, toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.

Posted by: jack cloudy Nov 3 2013, 05:53 PM

Unlike everyone else, it took me a while to get what Talos' remark regarding the horse meant. Then I realized that if the legion man was riding and Cora was walking, she could be seen as a hostage. With all the arrowy results.


I gave the situation with Onchu some more thought and have come to the conclusion that his threat is more a matter of timing than scale. Yes, mister 'I'm so virile' and Laird could claim Cardonaccum right there and then. The priest however, once he gets to a nice big city, can drum up a crusade.


I also see that Talos even after victory isn't going to just assume things will work out. The contingency with the flag says alot about him and frankly, I can't disagree with his caution. Until Cora is the official lord of Cardonaccum both outside and inside, then he can rest easily. Till then, he keeps his swords sharp and his bows strung.

Speaking of Talos, he looks different than I imagined. Still an awesome sketch though. Is that a scar on the righside of his mouth, or just shading?

Posted by: haute ecole rider Nov 3 2013, 08:23 PM

@Acadian: I knew you would enjoy the picture of Rosehill. I have more of her, but as they're all film pics, not digital, I would have to go digging through my collection to find them. I had been waiting for the perfect story to put Rosehill, and she said this was it! I hope to show more of her personality in upcoming segments throughout the story.

@SubRosa: Cora is one of those folks who understand the relationship between happy employees and a healthy profit. Investing in her people, i.e. returning the oxen to the crofters, will only benefit Cardonaccum in the long run. Nice job filling in for Dee Foxy!

@Grits: Perhaps it is Edine (the older of the two) who is being the role model for Lady Cora? Either way, I was as relieved by her answer to Lady Cora's question as Cora herself! As for the sketch, Karl Urban in that movie reminds me of General Talos! Talk about perfect casting!

@BamBam: I understood what you meant about the myth and the legend. I'm just saying not to write off the myth or the legend just yet. After all, such stories have a grain of truth in them. Centaurs are just the way the first equestrians appeared to those who had never seen men ride horses (or women, for that matter). Fire-breathing dragons and giants probably were inspired by the discovery of dinosaur fossils which has been ongoing throughout human history. And I could go on, but I have a Nanowrimo write in to head off to this afternoon . . . Glad you enjoyed the pic and the sketches.

@jackcloudy: I think you hit the nail on the head regarding Onchu. Maybe not about the crusade, but definitely about the trouble he could stir up once he reaches Wayrest or Sentinel or one of the other cities around Iliac Bay. I think we all carry our own image of Talos (or Alorius, or one of the other legendary figures in TES history) in our heads. As for the scar, if you want it there, then that's what it is. I haven't pictured him with any facial scars, but that could change!

The story so far: Lady Cora has returned to Cardonaccum with several survivors from Laird's escape, including the widow Edine and the two younger sons Tevan and Konrad. Now she must tell the others of her treaty with General Talos.

****************************
Chapter Nineteen

Jannet exclaimed as I entered the great hall. “What did you do, milady? Traipse through the barnyard after the oxen?”

“You h- have no idea,” I started for the stairs leading up to the second floor.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Jannet moved remarkably fast for such an old woman, standing in front of me with her arms akimbo. “I’ll not have ye tracking that filth through my donjon!” She took me by the arm and led me to a nearby bench. “Just wait right here and I’ll bring you some hot water and towels, milady.”

I slumped back against the wall with a weary sigh. It was now late afternoon, and my early rising began to tell. After a few moments, one of the castle women brought me a mug of hot strong tea. I hunched over it, letting it warm my hands and belly. After a moment, Jannet returned, wide wooden tub on her hip and towels draped over her arm.

I managed to pull my skirts halfway to my knees as she set the tub before me. She ignored me when I tried to stop her from kneeling on the floor. I barely kept the tea from spilling as she brusquely picked up my mud-encased right foot and set it into the hot water. I put my left foot in before she could reach for it, earning a fierce glare from the old woman.

I set the mug on the bench beside me and leaned down to wipe the mud from my feet, but Jannet slapped my hand. "Never mind, milady!" Her tone brooked no argument. "I'll make certain your feet get cleaned right proper! I should have never let you go so long without a decent lady's maid!"

I submitted to her ministrations. "But I've always taken c- care of myself, Jannet," I answered with little conviction. "You know that I've refused time and time again." It was an old argument, one that Jannet often brought up when she didn't approve of my behavior as a Lady of Cardonaccum.

"Hush," she snapped quietly. "You may be a barefoot Witch, and a widow, but you are now first and foremost the Lord of Cardonaccum!" She took one of my feet out and wiped it dry. I leaned back against the stone wall and sipped at my tea, too tired to argue.

She's right, I mused to myself. I am first and foremost Lord of Cardonaccum. But I see it differently than she does. While she sees the role as being one of proper decorum and manner, I see it more as one of leadership. Without Wallace, it is now up to me to see his people - no, my people, safe through this winter. And the next. And so on, as long as I may live.

But Wallace left me barren. I had to face the truth that I had ignored since his passing. And with no heir, who will carry on after me? Who stands to inherit? Do I marry again? Who? It has to be someone that the people will accept.

Dion of Lysium? Cornel of Farrun? My mind ran through the local nobles who held steadings near Cardonaccum. Wallace insulted most of them when he refused to take a second wife from among their families. Instead he hopscotched over the Wrothgarians and chose me. Why?

“There,” Jannet looked up from her brisk toweling. “All finished.” She set my left foot on the floor and leaned back, her gnarled hands in her lap. “Shall I order dinner for milady?”

“Find Niall and Siné,” I rose to my feet, “and meet me in the study in half an hour. And please have someone from the kitchen bring me some stew and bread.”

“Yes, milady,” Jannet refused my offer of assistance and rose to her feet, tub at her waist once more. She turned and walked away, her aged body bent by the weight of the tub. I watched her go. She came with Lady Elspeth, but stayed after she died. Why did she? Jannet could have gone back to Lysium and continued serving in Dion’s family. But no, she remained here and became Wallace’s housekeeper.

Wearily I made my own way to the stairs and entered the study. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow on the panes. It’s getting late. I have to send the signal to Lieutenant Alorius soon. Else they’ll attack Cardonaccum.

Robert knocked at the open door of the study when I sopped the last of the stew with the final bite of bread. Beyond him, I could see the forms of the two captains. “Come in,” I waved them to enter. “Where are Sir Rodric and Sir Broc?”

“Sir Rodric sends word that he is on his way, milady,” Captain Padriac spoke with a slight bow. “He is not yet able to move fast, so he may be the last to arrive.”

“Very well,” I pushed the dinner tray away and sipped at my tea, now cooling. “I will wait for Sir R- Rodric. I have also requested Niall, Jannet and Siné’s attendance, as what I have to s- say affects all of us.”

Robert regarded me silently, his eyes somber. The two captains exchanged glances, but said nothing. Footsteps warned us of the approach of another person. Sir Broc entered the study, brushed past the soldiers without acknowledging their presence, and bowed flamboyantly to me. “Milady, I am here,” he proclaimed. “What do you wish of me?”

“Step over there,” I pointed at the windows. “There are still a few more people yet t- to arrive.” Just then, Niall and Jannet moved into the room, nodding respectfully at Robert and the captains as they passed the men.

“We are here, milady,” Niall bowed deeply with none of the flourish of Broc. “Siné is escorting Sir Rodric, they will be here shortly.”

“What is this meeting about?” Sir Broc demanded, turning his back to the late afternoon light. “The defense of Cardonaccum? Or how you managed to recover Sir Laird’s family?” His eyes narrowed at me. “What exactly did you do?”

“Milady will tell us in her own time!” Robert growled at the young knight. I could see the irritated flush on the big man’s cheeks.

“Of course, milady will tell us when she will,” Broc replied smoothly, not sparing a glance at the big man. “I just hope it will be soon.”

“Would now be soon enough, milady?” Sir Rodric spoke from the doorway, where he leaned on Siné’s strong shoulder. At my gesture, she led him to the chair in the center of the room and eased him into it.

I smiled fondly at the older knight. “You were right, Sir Rodric,” I answered. “You are the last to arrive.” I cast my glance around the room and rose to my feet. “Thank you all for coming. I h- have vital news for you. But first,” I turned my glance to Siné, standing behind Sir Rodric’s seat. “How is Tomsen and the rest of the wounded?”

“Tomsen will live,” Siné answered in her soft voice. “But he won’t fight again. Those wounds are too severe and disabling.” She straightened her shoulders. “As for the rest, some are in dire shape, and the others will return to fighting condition in time. I will know more after I’ve had a chance for a more thorough examination.”

“And you will have that chance, Siné,” I said. “The reason I called you here, and the rest of you,” now I glanced at each man and woman in turn, “is to tell you the t- terms of the truce I’ve established with General Talos.”

“Truce!” Broc exclaimed, stepping forward from the window. “You made a truce with that Colovian fetcher? By yourself?”

“Why not?” Rodric overrode the younger knight’s indignation. “She is the Lord, after all. And she did ask for our opinions, as any good Lord should.” His gaze turned back to me. “What are the terms of the truce?”

“As you have seen, he has returned Sir Laird’s family and most of the s- surviving men to my care,” I said, pouring myself a fresh cup of tea. “And he has agreed to immediately withdraw his t- troops southward.”

“And in return he gets - what?” Rodric’s eyes were steady on mine.

“Cardonaccum becomes an ally of his, and s- stands watch on An Sloc,” I replied. Rodric nodded to himself, approval in the lines of his mouth. “Also, a century of the Legion remains here to r- reinforce the soldiers.” He blinked.

“What?” Sir Broc’s reaction was violently explosive as he stepped toward me. Robert and Enrick leaped forward to block his advance. “We have to host a century of our enemy?”

I met Broc’s gaze. “Not we,” I kept my voice quiet. “Only the L- Lord of Cardonaccum.”

His eyes flashed. “The Lord of Cardonaccum?” he repeated. “And who may that be, milady?”

Robert glanced at me as he strong-armed Broc backwards. “Will they be stationed within the castle?” he asked.

Relieved not to have to face down Broc just yet, I nodded. “At least for the t- time being. Lieutenant Alorius may have different ideas, but for now we can put th- them up in our barracks.”

“Alongside our men?” Enrick moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Robert, effectively blocking Broc from shoving his way forward again. “The space’s a little tight as it is.”

“We’ll have to manage for a day or two,” I replied. “Some of our men will h- have to go with Dame Edine to provide support until her own men are well again,” I nodded at Siné. “That should resolve the s- space problem for now, at least.” I turned my gaze to Robert. “We’ll have to c- continue the castle on siege footing through the winter.”

“That means hot-bunking,” Robert nodded with a growl. “It’ll be a challenge.”

“We’ll figure something out, R- Robert,” I agreed. Now I turned to Siné. “How soon will Sir R- Rodric be well enough to return to his own manor?”

“As long as he travels by oxcart,” Siné responded, “he can leave on the morrow.”

“What!” Rodric exploded in mock outrage. “Ride in an oxcart! I’d rather kiss the backend of my war charger!” He turned his blue gaze on me. “Are you that anxious to get rid of me, milady?”

I’m anxious to get rid of Broc, I thought silently at him. “Not really, Sir Rodric,” I kept my voice steady. “But I think you and your wife would rather s- spend the winter months within the c- comfort of your manor. And snow is coming - the roads will be closed soon.”

Finally Broc managed to step past Robert and Enrick. “And I, milady?” The anger in his eyes belied his conciliatory tone. “Certainly you are not sending me away when you need a man at your side!”

“Sir Broc,” I stifled my sigh at his transparent ambition. “I do not need you or any other man at my side to c- carry out my duties for me. Robert Whitearm and Captain Enrick Dougal shall c- command the fighting men on my behalf, and I have Niall,” I nodded at the cadaverous man, who bowed solemnly in response, “to assist me with the castle folk. You,” I turned back to the younger knight, “really should r- return to your manor and settle in for the winter.”

Broc regarded me blackly, but remained silent. Abruptly he bowed to me, but his flourish held barely suppressed rage. He turned and stalked out of the study without another word.

Enrick and Padriac exchanged glances, then looked to Robert. He in turn, regarded Sir Rodric thoughtfully. Niall’s face remained expressionless, as always. Siné returned my gaze neutrally, but I could see indignation in Jannet’s visage.

“Well,” Sir Rodric puffed through his mustache, “there’s that.” He turned to me. “Of course we shall return to our manors, once General Talos has withdrawn fully. How soon do you expect that to happen?”

“I expect t- tomorrow,” I turned to my castellan. “Robert, please take that cloth I gave you and fly it from the eastern gate tower. Make certain it’s the eastern one, not the western. That’s the s- signal for Lieutenant Alorius to bring his century up. They’re about five miles away, so it’ll take them some time to c- come up to the gates.”

“Very well, milady,” Robert overcame his flash of surprise and bowed to me. “If you will excuse me -“

“Just one moment more, Robert,” I held up a hand, then met Captain Enrick’s gaze. “I need to know that I have your s- support in this. The men are not going to be willing to s- share their quarters with the enemy.”

“Don’t worry about it, milady,” Enrick nodded courteously to me. “Robert and I will see to it ourselves.”

Captain Padriac turned to Sir Rodric. “And I support my lord as always,” he said. “So if he agrees with milady -?”

“Of course!” Rodric rumbled. “Milady is the one who went into that lion’s den and purchased our safety and freedom. The price for it is relatively mild.” He winked at me. “Though I would prefer to stay and lend milady my support, I can do so as well from our manor. And you already have capable folk here,” his waving hand indicated the others remaining in the room. “I would be just deadweight eating you out of house and donjon!”

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 4 2013, 12:32 AM

no, my people, safe through this winter
There was a lovely self-admission of Cora's place in Cardonaccum. No longer is she an outsider who married in.

“Step over there,” I pointed at the windows.
Where it will all the easier to push him out...

I see Sir Broc continues to be a problem. He seems to be stepping up from simply being a lecher who wants to marry into power, to filling in the absence left by Sir Laird of questioning Cora's right to rule. At least she got rid of him for the winter. But I am afraid that banishing him to his manor is only going to give him time to stew, and plot, against her. Perhaps with the help of Onchu?

Perhaps they can put up Talos' men in the Salt Room? I wonder if in 400 years there will be a plaque on the wall that reads: "Tiber Septim slept here."

All in all that went pretty well. The people we expected to support Lady Cora did, and the one we know is trouble simply showed his colors once more. I am looking forward to seeing how Alorius seasons this pot you are brewing, and his century.

nits:
[i]I’m anxious to get rid of Broc I thought silently at him. “Not really, Sir Rodric,” I kept my voice steady. “But I think you and your wife would rather s- spend the winter months within the c- comfort of your manor. And snow is coming - the roads will be closed soon.”
Looks like an errant italics mark got left at the beginning of your sentence.

Posted by: Acadian Nov 4 2013, 03:12 PM

The foot-washing scene said much about both women – all of it good.

‘Dion of Lysium? Cornel of Farrun? My mind ran through the local nobles who held steadings near Cardonaccum. Wallace insulted most of them when he refused to take a second wife from among their families. Instead he hopscotched over the Wrothgarians and chose me. Why?’
- - As Cora ponders the possibilities for remarriage, I believe she answered her own question. If the time comes, I expect her choice will be, like Wallace’s, an outsider.

‘Sir Broc entered the study, brushed past the soldiers without acknowledging their presence, and bowed flamboyantly to me. “Milady, I am here,” he proclaimed. “What do you wish of me?”
- - What a completely characteristic and smarmily Brocish entrance! I see Milady has the wits and tact to not exactly answer his question honestly.

“Of course!” Rodric rumbled. “Milady is the one who went into that lion’s den and purchased our safety and freedom. The price for it is relatively mild.” He winked at me. “Though I would prefer to stay and lend milady my support, I can do so as well from our manor. And you already have capable folk here,” his waving hand indicated the others remaining in the room. “I would be just deadweight eating you out of house and donjon!”
- - Another stand up and cheer moment! LadyLord Cora has done it! Honestly, ya gotta love some of these guys like Robert and Rodric. Sure, Broc and Pillsbury represent likely problems ahead, but overall, Cora is really stepping up to her role. Not too shabby for a barefoot witch.

Posted by: Grits Nov 6 2013, 08:16 PM

I enjoyed the foot washing scene with Jannet. Cora’s thoughts filled in the meaning behind Jannet’s simple words and actions.

The meeting went well, and it made me wonder how the news of the treaty will sound to the regular folks once it works its way down the ranks. The coming winter sounds like it will bring close quarters and closed roads. This segment really brought up how the season is itself a danger.

I’m already looking forward to the next part!

Posted by: ghastley Nov 6 2013, 10:46 PM

I'd have thought Jannet would be pleased to see her wearing something on her feet, even it was clay shoes!

Cora needs to let herself use the noble "we" when she's speaking as Lord of Cardonaccum. Third person would be better, except that Broc would seize on that and assume she's not referring to herself, and TES has made it a Khajiit thing.

Sending the knights to look after their own holdings for the winter should get rid of Broc for a while. And it will give Laird's lads a chance to grow a bit, if they can take on some responsibilities.

I look forward to finding out how Sir Rodric will make the journey, and if anything gets kissed.

Posted by: Captain Hammer Nov 10 2013, 08:02 AM

Man, and I would have loved to have seen Sir Broc stay at Cardonaccum, with some legionaries helping themselves to his manor on a rotational duty so that Lieutenant Alorius and his men got some space on a weekly basis.

I'm still waiting for the other shoe (or is it skirt length?) to drop, but I'm glad to see more of the members of Cardonaccum accepting the truce and their new Lord. Even if it does require the time-consuming task of washing a bare-foot witch.

And for your mention of how dinosaur skeletons influenced the myths of dragons, you get this:
http://i.imgur.com/6VNSh.png

I think the fire thing comes from being 100% certified Grade-A Awesome.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Nov 11 2013, 04:54 AM

@SubRosa: Of course banishing Broc to his manor for the winter would give him the space he needs to further his own plots! But if Lady Cora didn't banish him, we wouldn't have much of a story, would we? Actually, we see why she thinks that is the best course of action later in the story. Riiight, Cardonaccum would still be standing in 400 years to boast such a plaque in the Salt Room! Actually, they renamed it the Tiber Septim Room! Thanks for the nit!

@Acadian: As I see it, Jannet fills the void in Lady Cora's life that was left when her mother died. It just seems like the culmination of a logical evolution for Jannet - originally a nanny, then a lady's maid, now a housekeeper. A mom fills all of those roles for the family (and then some). I see Jannet as a mom frustrated by the lack of children to call her own. Thanks for your endorsement of Broc's entrance! I wanted to keep his smarminess fresh in everyone's mind! We will see just how much Lady Cora, Lord of Cardonaccum, has grown into her role at, oh, about chapter 33 or so.

@Grits: I wanted the upcoming winter to be a constant presence, because it is inexorable, unlike General Talos, Sir Broc and the Pillsbury Priest. Thanks for your endorsement of my writing decisions. I enjoyed the foot-washing scene, too. Jannet really shines here.

@ghastley: I doubt that Lady Cora would ever let herself become so presumptuous as to speak of herself in the third person. After all, she comes from very humble beginnings.

@Captain Hammer: It would be nice, wouldn't it, if the legionaries would take advantage of Broc's well-appointed manor over the winter, as you suggest. But I think Lady Cora's more afraid of having that smarmy butthole in her castle all winter than of what mischief he could cook up at his manor. I loved your linky. Is it scary that I actually understand most of that long-winded comment about which dinosaur type it could really be?

To all: Sorry for the late post. I have been so wrapped up in my Nanowrimo that I lost track of the days and forgot that today is my normal posting day for Cardonaccum. I banged out over 4700 words on this project, and that brings me to over 23,000 words total. I'm happy with the way this story is going. Don't worry, Cardonaccum has nearly forty chapters written, and I still have the best part to write! Thanks to all for reading this past Nanowrimo endeavor (the first 26 chapters were written for Nanowrimo 2011).

The story so far: Lady Cora has returned to Cardonaccum and notified her knights and captains of the treaty terms. Now she has to ready the castle for the arrival of Lieutenant Alorius and his legion.

*********************
Chapter Twenty

“Lower the bridge!” Robert’s stentorian blast echoed off the stone walls of the bailey. Torchlight flickered around the castle and creaking gears filled the dusk with their complaints. The drawbridge landed on the far bank with a dull thud as the off-duty castle thistlemen and Wallace’s fighting force, what remained of them, gathered in the courtyard.

I waited on the donjon steps as the bailey gates drew open with much cursing and wooden groaning. Behind me, several castle folk murmured among themselves, waiting for the first glimpse of the approaching Legion century. Above, the red and black standard snapped in the westerly breeze, barely visible in the fading light.

Robert approached me from the gate towers. “They are at the bottom of the cliff, milady,” he announced. His blue eyes flashed a glare at the murmuring folk behind me, quelling their excitement for a moment. I nodded and moved down the steps. “You will meet them?”

“Of course,” I answered. “It is my duty as Lord of Cardonaccum.” Briefly I considered asking him to come with me. But Wallace never requested anything of Robert, only commanded. “Come with me, Robert. I’d like C- Captain Enrick on the walls - just in case.”

“Of course!” Robert nodded curtly with a final glare at the castle folk. He fell into step beside me, shortening his long stride to match mine.

As we passed through the gates, I glanced up at him. “Please think k- kindly of the castle folk. These are unusual times for them.”

“Unusual times for us fighting men,” Robert growled. “Never has Cardonaccum surrendered to the enemy before!”

“And we haven’t surrendered this time, either,” I returned, feeling a little heat rise in my cheeks. “I merely s- sought an understanding that was beneficial to both the General and myself. He did open the door, you r- recall.”

“Aye, that I do,” Robert muttered. “But not many folks know he made the first move, you see. The men are wondering if you caved in too easily once Talos showed his strength.”

“Do you?” I challenged Robert. “If you doubt me, now’s the time to say s- so!” Aware of the men watching from the walls, I didn’t hesitate in my stride, but I could tell my tone had checked him.

To his credit Robert didn’t falter either, but kept his blue gaze ahead. “The time for doubting is past,” he said finally. “I don’t know how much courage it took for you to walk alone to General Talos’s camp and confront him by yourself. I doubt I have that much!” He took a deep breath and let it out in an audible sigh. “Lord Wallace saw something in you years ago, when he chose you for his second wife. I don’t think I’ve seen all of it yet, but what I’ve seen so far is mighty impressive for such a little woman.”

We reached the far bank of the moat in silence. I looked down the steep slope and spotted the marching pennants of the Legion century winding their way up the road toward the gates. Their pace was slow, accompanied by the slow skirling of pipes.

“I wonder why they use pipes instead of drums for the march?” I wondered aloud.

Robert shrugged. “Who knows?” He considered their approach for a few minutes. “That lieutenant of Talos’s is quite the horseman.”

I followed his gaze and spotted the lead rider, seated on a chestnut stallion almost as feisty as Nightshade. The horse jibbed at the bit, swinging his hindquarters from side to side, impatient with the slow pace of the marching troops. Yet Titus sat the horse easily, as if his body melded with the stallion’s much like a centaur. I couldn’t see how he maintained control over his energetic mount, for his hands and legs remained still and motionless.

“Looks like his parade or war mount,” I remarked softly. “He loaned me his marching h- horse.”

“That little mare?” Robert exclaimed. “That was a true lady’s horse!”

“He likes Rosehill for long distances since she has a nice gait,” I replied. “After riding h- her, I can appreciate his meaning.” I nodded toward the chestnut stallion as he danced toward the precipice yet again. “Better than c- constantly fighting that much wild energy.”

“Aye, and both horse and rider would be fresh by the time they arrived to the field of battle,” Robert agreed. He turned and glanced back at the gates. “Enrick is on station, milady,” he added. “We’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”

“I expect there will be problems between the men,” I kept my voice quiet to avoid carrying to Titus, now nearing earshot. “I am counting on you and Enrick to keep our men in line.”

“And theirs?” Robert’s brow arched in the gathering dusk.

“We’ll have to depend on Lieutenant Alorius’s good sense,” I answered. “To be honest, I rather liked him.” He’s not as cold or inscrutable as Talos. And he did show me kindness in lending me his mare.

“Then we’ll have to petition Arkay that the Legion commander has the sense we are hoping he has!” Robert muttered as the red stallion snorted and blew his way to a head-tossing halt before us. His short mane fluttered along his arched neck as he eyed us with white-rimmed dark eyes. I noticed that he had the same chiseled head as Rosehill, the same red color as she. He possessed only a single white star which gleamed softly through the dark leather bridle he wore.

“Greetings, Lady Cora,” Titus managed to bow while keeping his mount restrained. The horse pawed fiercely at the cobblestones as the legionaries clattered to a halt behind him. “Shush, Inferno.” The stallion jibbed so violently his brasses clattered and foam flew from his lips. I reached out and laid my hand on his nose, as I had done for Nightshade so long ago, yet not so long ago. “Lady -“ Titus caught his breath as Inferno snorted, then subsided beneath my palm as I blew into his nostrils. The commander’s gaze beneath his helm was wide with wonder as Inferno stood still, no longer tense or thrumming with frustrated energy.

“I see why you like to ride Rosehill on the long marches,” I murmured to Titus. “This one is quite full of h- himself.” I drew myself straighter as one of the legionaries stepped forward to take Inferno’s rein. The horse only flicked an ear at him, his attention riveted on me. “Welcome to Cardonaccum, Lieutenant Alorius. You’ve met my c- castellan, Robert Whitearm.”

“Yes, I have,” Titus dismounted with ease, running a gauntleted hand along Inferno’s neck, sleek with lather. He nodded at the legionary and reclaimed the reins. “Sir.” He gave Robert a courteous nod.

“Lieutenant,” Robert returned. He stepped aside as I turned back for the gates. Titus fell in on my right side, leading Inferno opposite.

The four of us - Robert, myself, Titus and Inferno, walked across the broad drawbridge. Behind, I could hear the troops following at a crisp march.

“We will have to picket some of your h- horses,” I said to Titus. “I hope there are not too many stallions among your Legion. Nightshade is not fond of c- competition, and it seems to me Inferno is of the s- same mind!”

“Put him next to Rosehill,” Titus responded. “She’ll put him in his place right quick. After all, she’s his mother!”

“Really?” I glanced past him at Inferno’s profile. “I thought he r- resembled her somewhat.”

“As for the Legion horses, the rest of them are mares and geldings,” Titus continued matter-of-factly. “They’ll be fine if you picket them outside your stables. Honestly, my men can camp in an out of the way corner of your bailey.”

“Nonsense!” Robert growled. “We’ve room in the barracks, as long as we hot-bunk. If your men are up to it, they can share the watch with ours.”

“Fair enough,” Titus answered. “Though I wouldn’t want to cause resentment among your men.”

“We’ve been on combat footing for the past s- sevenday, Lieutenant,” I broke in. “They were hot-bunking before Lord Wallace left to meet General T- Talos on the field.” And lost half of our fighting force there. Titus sent me a sidelong glance, but didn’t speak. He knows what we are thinking. By Arkay, he’d be thinking the same too, were he in our place! “In any c- case, our knights will be leaving soon, and taking their men with them. That should give everyone s- some breathing room.”

“Good, I’ll be certain to let my centurions know,” Titus remarked as we passed beneath the archway of the gates. “My men have been warned to be on their best behavior.”

“As have mine,” I stopped to let the stable grooms approach Inferno. “But I still expect some friction between them - after all, I’m c- certain your men are as proud as mine!” I faced Titus as he surrendered Inferno to one of the boys. When he met my gaze, I took a deep breath. “We shall h- have to be prepared for it.”

“Of course, Lady,” Titus nodded respectfully. “I expect given time things will settle down.” He jerked his head at the approaching men. “They know to keep a sharp eye out for trouble.”

I glanced up at the sky. “It’s getting late, and nearly t- time for dinner. I would like you and your s- sergeants to join me, Castellan Robert and Captain Enrick at dinner in the hall this evening.” The sergeants, weathered veterans all, shifted uneasily. “It would be best if we all got t- to know each other by face and name.”

Titus regarded me for several long breaths. “We accept your gracious invitation, Lady,” he said finally. “But give us time to get our men and animals squared away.”

“Would two hours be enough t- time?” I asked. “Your men can be fed at the s- same time as ours, as well.”

“Two hours will be adequate,” Titus nodded.

I stepped back. “Then I shall hand you over to R- Robert’s hospitality. I’m certain you will find it better than last time!”

Titus smiled. “I certainly hope so!”

I watched as the legionaries followed Robert to the barracks wing. Their horses were led away to the stables, where the grooms had set up picket lines for them. The horse-master, a bow-legged man with grizzled hair, caught my gaze and darted to stand before me. “Milady? Yon stallion can’t be put on the picket, can he?”

“Inferno?” I gazed toward the stables, where Inferno tossed his head and nearly lifted his boy off the ground. “Lieutenant Alorius said to put him next to R- Rosehill. She’s his dam, Cadric, she’ll s- settle him down.”

“Aye, milady!” Cadric knuckled his forehead and darted off. I turned and mounted the steps toward the front door of the donjon.

Within, I found pandemonium as children fought to peer through the narrow slits at the legionaries passing through the bailey. Behind them, a few of the unmarried castle women craned their necks and stood on tiptoe. I shook my head to myself. I wonder how many of these girls will be suckling babes this time next year. That’s another source of potential trouble. Best speak to Jannet about this.

I found Machara berating another hapless kitchen boy, this time for letting his knives go dull. I waited until her tirade was finished and caught her attention before she could find another victim. “I need your help t- tonight, Machara,” I said. “I’ve invited the Legion commander and his sergeants to dinner with me, Robert and Enrick. We’ll be dining in the great hall, of c- course.”

The big cook’s eyes widened. “What on Nirn shall I feed those Colovian heathens!”

“They worship the Eight, just as we do,” I admonished her firmly. She blinked, then lowered her gaze contritely. “I think r- roast beef and roasted r- root vegetables will be most welcome on this cold night,” I continued. “Along with fresh baked bread and butter, of c- course.”

“And wine, milady?” Machara’s eyes were distant, and I knew she was already planning the logistics of dinner.

“I will have Niall bring up some of the red from five years ago, as well as this h- harvest’s beer.” I drew her attention back to me with a hand on her wrist. “Do Lord Wallace proud with th- this meal, please.”

“Of course!”

Posted by: Acadian Nov 11 2013, 08:53 PM

“I don’t think I’ve seen all of it yet, but what I’ve seen so far is mighty impressive for such a little woman.” - - Aww, you gotta love Robert here.

A grand arrival by the Legion that, overall, is going well so far. How neat and appropriate that Rosehill is Inferno’s mom!

I find myself wanting to think good things about Lieutenant Alorius and, so far, I’m cautiously encouraged.


Nit? “I merely s- Sought an understanding that was beneficial to both the General and myself. He did open the door, you r- recall.” - - I suspect that ‘Sought’ is capitalized here due to oversight?

Posted by: ghastley Nov 11 2013, 10:56 PM

You already tried Haggis and failed. If they could survive that (and without any whiskey!) then it no longer matters what you try.



So they'll move along briskly and get it over as soon as possible.

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 12 2013, 10:58 PM

creaking gears filled the dusk with their complaints.
This was a wonderful turn of phrase.

“I wonder why they use pipes instead of drums for the march?” I wondered aloud.
Maybe the dreadful racket is supposed to make their enemies quit the field without even fighting?

I enjoyed the extra detail you gave to Inferno, and both the comparison to Rosehill, and the revelation that she is his mother.

A very clever idea of Lady Cora to invite not only Lt. Alorius to dinner, but also his ncos, and her own two main soldiers. As she said, it is a good way to get everyone on the same page.

Ahh, and nothing like some good English beef and potatoes!

Posted by: Grits Nov 13 2013, 06:51 PM

“I wonder why they use pipes instead of drums for the march?” I wondered aloud.

Robert shrugged. “Who knows?”

I love how Cora voiced her curiosity but Robert wasn’t distracted into a discussion about it. And of course the possible answers make the reader smile.

The arrival of the Legion was a delight. I felt as if I was watching more than reading it. The rush of activity inside as the kids and unattached women took a peek at the newcomers was an especially vivid touch.

Mmm, roast beef for dinner. I’m looking forward to it already.

Posted by: Captain Hammer Nov 17 2013, 06:37 PM

So Lieutenant Alorius prefers to stick with the same bloodline of horseflesh. Nice touch, that, making Inferno the colt of Rosehill. It seems that he will continue to surprise me. I like him.

I can just imagine seeing that face. It's the same one my mother used to get when she was absentmindedly asking me what I wanted for dinner on my last night home between college semesters.

And now I'm hungry too. Thanks for that, Rider. I'm going to go rustle up some grub.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Nov 17 2013, 10:56 PM

@Acadian: Yes, Inferno as Rosehill's son is logical, considering that I also owned the real Rosehill's son (one of three she had for me) and based Inferno on Nat. Unfortunately all of my best pictures of him are on film, not yet converted to digital. An oversight I intend to fix. After Nanowrimo. I think you will end up liking Lieutenant Alorius.

@ghastley: Oh, that's ghastly, ghastley! I laughed myself silly at your comments, especially about the pipes vs. drums. Never thought of it that way, but it makes sublime sense.

@SubRosa: Of course, I had to have Machara feed Acadian! Food does not get the emphasis here that it did in OHDH, but we try to make up for it in its sumptuousness. Lady Cora is not the soldier Julian was, so I doubt that she is as preoccupied with food as our hardworking pilus. And yes, that idea of Lady Cora to get everyone together over a meal is a stroke of genius.

@Grits: I took time to think of how Lady Cora would see the arrival of a whole bunch of unfamiliar men in varying degrees of hairiness would impact the castle folk. She understands all too well the appeal of men with mysterious origins.

@BamBam: I'm glad you like Lieutenant Alorius (or was it Inferno you were referring to?) And yes, my mother gets that same look too whenever I asked if a friend could stay for dinner. I hope this upcoming episode fills up your (virtual) stomach!

The story so far: The legion has arrived, and now Lady Cora is hosting the officers with her own company. We will see how they get along.

********************
Chapter Twenty-one

A sudden hush fell over the bustling hall and drew my attention from the ale flagons in Niall’s hands. At the far end, before the doors now being closed, five men in glittering mail stood close together, helms tucked neatly into the crooks of their elbows. Scarlet cloaks swirled from shoulders made wide by steel pauldrons. The hilts of arming swords rested at their right hips. Three of the men wore white armbands, while a fourth wore red on his right arm. I recognized the fifth as Lieutenant Alorius.

“This is fine, Niall,” I said to the steward, and turned from him to walk to the center of the hall. Titus spotted me and said something to his men. The five of them made their way to meet me on the clean rushes, the castle folk falling back with craning necks. “Welcome to Wallace’s hall,” I looked from legionary to legionary. Each man met my gaze squarely. The one with the red scarf nodded respectfully at me, but the others only stood stiffly. They’re uneasy. This could cause trouble. I wondered at the best way to put a soldier at ease.

“Thank you for inviting us, Lady,” Titus drew my attention back to him. He turned to the eldest of the four sergeants, the one with the red scarf. “This is Quintius Fannius, my pilus hastatus.”

Fannius bowed slightly, just enough to convey respect of my station, but not so much as to be obsequious. “Lady,” was all he said.

Titus waved toward the remaining three. “Fannius’s optio, Manius Laelius, the signifier, Aulus Numicus, and the cornicen, Vibius Memmius.”

I made certain to repeat each man’s name correctly, pronouncing each syllable slowly to prevent my stutter from surfacing. “Forgive me, I thought all of you were sergeants?”

Vibius glanced at Fannius, who gave the slightest nod. “Pardon me, Lady,” the younger man spoke softly. “We do not have sergeants in the Legion as you do among your fighting forces. But you could say our duties are similar to those of your sergeants.”

“Memmius’s grandfather was Breton, much like you,” Titus addressed the surprise I knew showed on my face. “He once served in Lainlyn as one of the fighting men of that barony.”

“Then you are familiar with Breton customs, sir?” I asked Vibius.

He shuffled his feet like a shy teenaged boy and shrugged. “Somewhat, Lady,” he said finally.

A change in the hushed murmuring of the hall alerted me to Sir Rodric’s approach. This time, Captain Padriac supported him.

“Sir Rodric, I’m glad you could join us,” I said when he stopped beside me. Quickly I performed the introductions, the Colovians first, then the knight and his captain to the others. Robert and Captain Enrick joined us before I finished, and were included in the formalities. I glanced around again, this time in vain.

“Whom are you looking for, milady?” Robert had caught my glance.

“I had requested Sir Broc to join us,” I caught his glower. “I thought it best if these Legion men knew us by s- sight and name.” I turned back to Titus. “It is my hope that by meeting like this, and getting to know each other, we may get along better in the future.”

“Well, last I saw of Sir Broc,” Rodric remarked, taking some of his own weight from Padriac’s shoulder, “he was in a very foul mood.” He met Titus’s gaze. “He’s young still, and rather impetuous. Not that it excuses any bad behavior on his part -“

“Understood,” Titus answered with a nod. “It’s a rare young man who knows how to comport himself when the battle has gone against him.”

I was not alone in considering Titus’s words. General Talos would be that rare young man? He seems much older beyond his years. And has the battle ever gone against that one? “Well, I see Niall’s giving me the s- signal,” I said finally. It was true, he had been standing in the archway leading to the dining room beyond the great hall. In his understated way he had been silently telling me that the table was now ready. “Our cook is quite fine in her skills, but t- temperamental if kept waiting. I’d suggest we go in to dinner now. Sir Broc can join us when he can.”

“Excellent idea!” Rodric exclaimed, as Padriac resumed his role as pack mule to the older knight’s bulk. “After you, milady!”

“Lieutenant,” I waved Titus to my left side, “and Castellan,” Robert to my right. “Shall we go in together?”

For the briefest of moments the two men hesitated, and I could sense their bemusement. Shall they offer me their arms? But that implies that I am subordinate to either of them. I resolved their dilemma by gathering my skirts in both hands and setting off, my head high. I may not be as beautiful or elegant as Lady Elspeth, but I won’t shame Wallace’s memory as his widow.

They fell into step beside me, and we made our way across the hall toward the dining room. About half the size of the great hall, it still was impressive in its proportions, with its corbeled ceiling and tall windows, now dark with the night outside. Chandeliers hung suspended over the long table, casting enough light for twenty guests. At each place pages stood behind the heavy chairs, ready to assist their guests. Each chair had a high back, with even taller posts jutting ceilingward, providing convenient protrusions for helms and baldrics. At the head of the table, Thistlethorn hung from the back of the lord’s chair.

Niall and his chief assistant, Gavin, drew the chair back as I approached it. I paused before taking my place before it. “Lieutenant, please sit on my left,” I gestured him toward the appropriate chair. “And Robert, on my right.” As they moved to take their seats, I directed Quintius to sit beside Robert, Enrick next to Titus. Manius sat at Enrick’s left, while Sir Rodric took his place across from the optio. Padriac and Vibius finished the left side of the table, while Aulus took the last seat on the right side, with the final chair empty, awaiting Sir Broc. Niall made a quiet suggestion to Titus, who placed his helm on the left post of his chair and hung his short blade from the right.

The legionaries followed Titus’s example. My own folk had already disposed of their weapons, long blades all of them. We stood at the table as Siné entered from a side door. She moved to the foot of the long board and folded her hands.

“I do not know your customs, Lieutenant, legionaries,” I said quietly. “But here at Cardonaccum, we s- say grace before every meal. Normally I would have the priest accompany us, but as he has left the field of c- combat, we shall have to make do with our healer. Siné, would you please speak to Arkay on our behalf?”

“Yes, milady,” Siné’s melodious voice drifted down the table. “For food where many walk Nirn in hunger, for faith where many walk Nirn in fear, for friends where many walk Nirn alone, we give you thanks, Arkay. Amen.” As we echoed her, I looked up to see Vibius glancing sidelong at the slim healer. He averted his eyes hastily when she raised her gaze to meet mine. “Enjoy your dinner, milady, gentlemen.” As she turned and left the table, I hid my smile at the young man’s discomfiture. Of course he would notice her. Siné is as beautiful as she is compassionate. But she is devoted to her calling. None of the men here at Cardonaccum have succeeded in getting her to look at them as other than patients.

“That was most appropriate,” Titus addressed me. “I do hope that we will become friends in time,” his gaze moved around the table at the others. “If it suits you, we would like to offer our own.”

“Of course, Lieutenant,” I answered. “Go ahead.”

Titus met Quintius’s gaze across the table and nodded. The pilus turned his gaze downward. “Akatosh, bless us sinners as we eat our dinners. Amen.” This time I heard stifled chuckles from Enrick and Padriac as they repeated the close.

“That was very short and - ah -“ Sir Rodric tipped his head back, his eyes twinkling, “succinct.”

“Yes, quite,” I nodded to Niall and gathered my skirts as he and Gavin pulled the chair under my descending rump. On both sides of the table the pages, two to a chair, did the same for the guests. Once we were settled, Niall returned to my place with a flagon of wine and filled my goblet. Gavin accompanied him with a large flask of ale as they went around the table, offering the men a choice of either. Titus, Robert and Sir Rodric chose the wine, a dry red, while the legionaries, Enrick and Padriac selected the ale.

“To our truce,” I held up the pewter goblet once everyone was served. The others echoed my toast before sampling their drinks.

Then Titus rose his own goblet. “May truce grow into friendship.”

“Hear! Hear!” Sir Rodric was most enthusiastic. I regarded him closely, but he seemed quite sober. He met my gaze with a wink, then turned to Aulus, seated at his right, to ask him a question.

A creamy chicken and wild rice soup was served first. As I expected, it was almost hearty enough to be a stew. I watched as the Colovians savored their first taste of Machara’s divine cooking. The surprised looks on their faces told me they had not expected much of our cuisine. I shall have to be certain to tell Machara good work on this dinner. She has made a proper impression on these men.

I didn’t eat much of the main course, already full from the soup. The roast beef with root vegetables marinated in au jus was direct from the gods, perfectly seasoned with rosemary and sage. I contented myself with watching the Colovian soldiers devour every last crumb on their plates.

“Hmm, that was quite delicious,” Titus murmured as the pages cleared away the dinnerware. His gaze followed my own plate as it headed for the kitchen. “But aren’t you hungry, Lady?”

“I am not a big, fighting s- soldier like you and your men,” I answered to Robert’s sudden coughing. “I don’t need as much nourishment to sustain myself.” I sipped at the wine. “But I am glad to see all of you enjoy Machara’s c- cooking.” The red fluid swirled in the bowl of my goblet as I leaned back in the chair. “It is my hope that by having us all sit t- together, we would get to know each other. I can imagine that your men aren’t too happy at being left behind to baby-sit a minor h- holding at the back end of the north wind.” I tipped the goblet at Titus’s startled glance. “With winter coming on, no less.”

He tossed back the dregs of his wine in an attempt to recover his balance. “I’m certain that yours aren’t happy at sharing their barracks with us,” he met my gaze levelly. I regarded him thoughtfully. Out of Talos’s shadow, he is turning out to be quite the accomplished officer himself. No longer does he seem so boyish. “I appreciate your thoughts behind this dinner, Lady,” Titus continued. “But nothing you can do will force our men to respect each other, let alone get along. They will have to figure things out for themselves.”

“Of course,” I nodded my agreement. “I do not expect the men to c- claim blood brotherhood by the morn. I think it is more realistic for those of us at this table to establish a working r- relationship among ourselves. After all, it is up to the leaders to set the example for the men to follow. If they see you,” I gestured with my hand at Titus, then Robert, then each of the remaining guests at the table, “t- treating each other with decent civility, it would be more difficult for them to harbor hate and resentment for former enemies.”

Quintius cleared his throat and set his goblet down on the board. Titus nodded for him to speak. “With all due respect, Lady,” the pilus turned his dark gaze to me, “it will not be easy.”

“So noted, sir,” I replied as Niall refilled my wine. “I can not expect to fully appreciate the magnitude of the t- task before us. But if we,” again I made a circling motion to include all the guests at the table, “do not work together with respect and c- consideration for each other, it will become not difficult, but impossible, for the legionaries and the thistlemen to work together.”

The pilus nodded thoughtfully. “I see you are not flighty, Lady.” Robert shifted suddenly beside him, but I quelled him with a glance.

“I am a child of Nirn,” I said quietly. “My strength comes from the ground. Flightiness is the last word one can use to describe me.” After a sip of my wine, I set the goblet on the board. “Dessert will be a short while coming. Please, ask each other questions. Speak freely, and do not worry about offending a high-born lady, for that is not what I am.”

The men regarded each other warily for several breaths. Finally I sighed. “Let me ask a question, then.” I turned to Quintius. “I understand that as pilus, you are one of the senior leaders under Lieutenant Alorius, c- correct?”

“Yes, Lady.” Unease flickered through Quintius’s eyes.

“Then please satisfy my curiosity. Why such short swords?” I gestured toward the blade resting against the back of his chair. “Our men use longer swords, and Thistlethorn is easily twice as long as your blade. Yet people speak of the Legion with fear and r- respect.”

“Milady has never seen combat with the Legion,” Robert added. “Enrick and Padriac can enlighten her as to how effective the Legion’s use of the short sword is, but they can not explain the why.” I smiled at the sly glance he sent me. “And knowing milady as I do, the why is the answer she seeks.”

“This,” Quintius reached over his shoulder and drew the short sword from its scabbard. Ignoring the sudden tension around the table, he took it by the leaf-shaped blade and extended the leather-wrapped hilt to me, “is the gladius.”

I hesitated, but with his unspoken encouragement I took the hilt in my right hand. Unlike Thistlethorn, it was surprisingly light. Its double-edged blade gleamed in the light from the chandeliers as I examined it closely. “Gladius?” I repeated.

“The legionaries are trained for close-quarter combat,” Quintius explained. Silently I returned the blade to him. He sheathed the gladius before continuing with a lecture of close quarter combat techniques. Enrick and Padriac volunteered their own experiences on the receiving end of Legion tactics. Listening to their discussion, I realized why Wallace had lost to them, my husband who had successfully held off raiders and neighboring nobles seeking to annex Cardonaccum to their lands. I managed to submerge my grief with my fascination for their military talk.

All too soon, pages brought in the dessert - candied apples and wine-poached pears. Each small plate also held a slice of gingerbread. Cups of strong tea were set at each place. The legionaries regarded the fruit with suspicion, but when Titus took the first bite and rolled his eyes in appreciation, they began sampling their servings.

“Lady, we’ve never had anything so fine,” Titus remarked after a sip of the strong tea.

“When Machara has more notice,” I answered, cutting a piece of pear and wiping up some of the poaching juice with it, “she outdoes h- herself with pastries. Perhaps another time she’ll give you the chance to s- sample her best work.”

“Too many sweets spoil fighting men,” Rodric shook his finger at me.

I leaned my chin on my hand. “But the mule works more happily for the c- carrot than he does for the stick.” Coughing around the table caused Rodric to grin widely at me.

“Too many carrots will make the mule fat,” Quintius mock-growled around a mouthful of apple. Rodric clapped his shoulder heartily.

“Then the mule will just have to work harder,” Enrick countered, catching the last crumb of gingerbread. This time chuckles replaced the coughing. Robert caught my gaze and gave me a slow nod. Whatever you’re trying to do, it seems to be working, he appeared to say.

“Lady,” Titus raised his tea cup to me, “it seems to me that we are not so resentful of being separated from the Legion after all!”

A loud bang stopped my response. I looked down the table toward the archway leading into the hall. A form stumbled into the pool of light cast by the chandeliers, sword in hand.

“‘ello, gentsh! Milady, have ye shtarrted w’ out me?” It was a very drunken Broc.

Posted by: Acadian Nov 18 2013, 02:06 PM

A big episode and a big meal! I'm with Lady Cora - the thick chicken and rice soup (with some wine) sounded superbly filling. But she's right that those around her likely have pretty big appetites.

‘I made certain to repeat each man’s name correctly, pronouncing each syllable slowly to prevent my stutter from surfacing.' - - Very clever, for the technique will surely aid in remembering all the new names as well!

I enjoyed the reality of praising the short blade (and shield) for close-in formation combat that has helped successfully propel the Legion across so much of Tamriel.

Gee, all things considered, this went pretty smoothly. Well, uh oh. . . here comes Broc.

Posted by: ghastley Nov 18 2013, 05:18 PM

Feeding the reader is always welcome, but at this rate we'll be getting obese!

Acadian already hit the points I was going to comment on. It's interesting that you point out the short sword as a close-combat team weapon, at the same time as SunRosa's turning her villagers into the same kind of outfit. Are you two conspiring?

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 18 2013, 08:19 PM

Alorius' men have some good, solid Latin names. I see he brought all the important people, from the centurion down. I liked Cora's stumbling over their titles compared to Breton sergeants.

Vibius Memmius once serving in Lainlyn was a nice touch of weaving game lore into the story.

I also liked how Cora pondered on how Talos might take being the loser. I expect that he would not take it very well. He might not force choke people like Darth Vader, but I expect there would at least be a tantrum, and lots of broken furniture.

That was a wonderful conundrum on etiquette and position faced by Lady Cora when it came time to actually walk into the dining hall. Deftly averted by gathering up her skirts.

Likewise, very clever seating arrangements. She had mixed them all up, so that they cannot form the obvious cliques the table, and only talk to the people they already know.

It looks like the legionaries were expecting more haggis, and perhaps laverbread! What a pleasant surprise for them.

A nice nod to the capability of the short sword. RPGs so often underrate it, and just see it as something that does less damage than a longer blade. But of course the reality is quite different, especially when one is standing in a dense formation of men where it is literally impossible to swing a 3 or 4 foot blade.

All in all the dinner seemed to go pretty well. Until that cliffhanger at the end of course! Here comes trouble!

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Nov 18 2013, 09:30 PM

Dinner with guests, how wonderful.

It's nice to see how Cora handles these new guests, and how she's juggling the potential for hostilities with the need to make sure Legionaries are fully integrated. I enjoyed the dialogue at the feast, especially the bit about the gladius; severely underrated weapon, that.

All in all, I daresay that that little meal went very amicably and...wait...Broc?

Oh dear.

Posted by: Grits Nov 24 2013, 02:47 AM

Yum, cream of chicken soup with rice! That was enough of a meal for me, too. Lady Cora may not be a high-born lady, but she demonstrated her considerable skills throughout the dinner. I enjoyed her banter over the poached pears.

Listening to their discussion, I realized why Wallace had lost to them, my husband who had successfully held off raiders and neighboring nobles seeking to annex Cardonaccum to their lands. I managed to submerge my grief with my fascination for their military talk.

This was my favorite moment in the update.

Yikes, a drunken Sir Broc, sword in hand. Here’s a chance for a demonstration of respect and civility, or not!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Nov 24 2013, 07:10 PM

@Acadian: Yes, that was a big episode, wasn't it! In more ways than one, indeed. I'm glad you approved of dinner--Machara had you specifically in mind when she whipped this one together. I just had to put in that bit of Legion close-quarters tactics because this is what Lady Cora wanted to learn from Wallace's men. Now it's Alorius's men who get to teach her!

@ghastley: No, we are actually writing our stories independently of each other. The first twenty-five or so chapters of this story (of which this is Chapter 21) were written for Nanowrimo two years ago. I believe SubRosa is writing Seven in the moment, albeit with her usual care in crafting strong sentences to provide a solid foundation for a compelling story. Or you could just say that great minds think alike.

@SubRosa: As I was writing this two years ago, I was thinking to myself: Now I've gotta make sure this episode gets the SubRosa seal of approval for accuracy! I'm glad that the fact that I'm modeling the Legion after the historical Roman Legion comes so clear to a fellow student of military history.

@Colonel Mustard: Dinner with guests is always rife with potential for conflict. I guess that's why it's such a common feature in murder mysteries (and hence the popularity of such dinners featuring a mock murder). Yes, I wanted to make a clear point about the short sword that is so overlooked in games. It is a stabbing weapon, therefore ideal when you are glaring eyeball to eyeball with your foe. This is literally a blade you can bury to the hilt in someone, pull it out and keep going without having to engage in fancy footwork.

@Grits: I enjoyed the comments over the poached pears, too! It was at this point in the dinner that I could feel the tension beginning to thaw between the Legion men and the thistlemen. The little stray thought that you quoted is one of my favorite parts in the whole section.

@all: It seems that Broc made quite the entrance--everyone of you have remarked on his appearance. Of course our favorite Mr. Smarmy isn't going away meekly!

The story so far: Lady Cora has hosted a rather successful dinner with her thistlemen and Lieutenant Alorius's men. However, a very drunken Broc has shown up to throw a monkey wrench in the works. (I know, it's a modern phrase, but I challenge you to come up with a medieval or even Roman Empire version!)In any case, I find drunken dialogue very difficult to write, so if you think a drunk sounds differently, I beg you to enlighten me!

********************
Chapter Twenty-two

Robert and Enrick shot to their feet, the heavy chairs skidding back from the table. I too managed to rise, but found myself pinned between the table and the massive lord’s chair.

“You are late, S- Sir Broc,” I managed to put a heavy dose of censure into my voice. My hands gripped the edge of the board to keep me upright. “I would not keep my guests waiting for you.”

“Of coursh ye wouldn’t!” Broc’s highland accent became more pronounced beneath his slurring. “Milady dosh what milady wantsh, no?” His sword tip lowered to the floor, and he leaned heavily on it. “I shee ye makin’ nice w’ the man who killed yerr hush- husband.” He leered at Titus. I caught the clenching of the lieutenant’s fists on the table. Broc straightened up unsteadily and swung his blade to his shoulder, nearly overbalancing backwards.

Robert took a step toward Broc, but the younger knight stumbled sideways, managing to evade the big castellan’s charge. He reached Rodric’s chair and leaned on its back, his gaze still on Titus.

“Sir Broc!” Rodric roared, twisting around in his chair in a vain attempt to make eye contact with his junior colleague. “You’re sloshed past your eyeballs!”

“Am I?” Broc wiped his sweating face with his left forearm. “And ye’ve been drrinkin’ w’out me, my frriend.” He staggered to Robert’s chair and glanced at Rodric with drunken scorn. “I shee milady ish leadin’ you by the noesh.” He turned to me. “An’ now milady’s workin’ her Witch mashik on th’ Legion.” He bowed with less than his usual grace, nearly striking his forehead on the arm of the lord’s chair. That deadly blade wavered close to my own shoulder.

Titus rose to his feet, his men following suit, as Robert reached for Broc. I held my hands up to stop them in place. “Sir Broc,” I said quietly. “You are making a f- fool of yourself. Stop this n- nonsense now, and leave.”

He stepped back, that sword rising from his shoulder to reach for my face. I kept myself from flinching as its tip wavered mere inches from my nose. “Fool of meself?” he roared, his face turning dusky. “Ye, who bid me to foolishly follow ye into inshanity?” He swung his blade in Titus’s direction. “What’d she do to your Generrul?” A belch escaped his lips, and I nearly choked on the alcoholic fumes. “Shpread her legs for him? Think she’d do th’ shame fer ye?”

I felt the flush spread up from the round neckline of my kirtle at his words. “Sir Broc!” Anger caused my voice to crackle across the hall. His sword snapped toward me as he stiffened, startled. “You speak t- treason!” He stared at me. “Dare you challenge me?” I caught Robert’s scowling gaze and nodded curtly. “Perhaps you’ll think t- twice after you spend the night in the salt room and sober up!”

As Robert moved toward Broc, and Enrick rounded the far end of the table, the younger knight backed away, swinging his sword around him in unsteady defense. He feinted toward the two men, keeping them at a distance. I realized that they were unarmed.

In that same moment, Quintius leaped onto his seat and leaned his foot onto its back, causing the chair to topple backwards. He jumped clear to land behind Broc. As the drunken man tried to confront this new threat, Quintius neatly blocked his sword arm and twisted the sword out of his slack grip. He sprang backwards, the long sword pointing to the floor, as Robert and Enrick rushed the disarmed knight.

Broc shouted in rage as the two men easily overwhelmed him, pinning his arms to his sides and dragging him to the archway. Robert’s shouted orders to the castle thistlemen drowned him out. As several thistlemen appeared, Quintius moved along the board and tossed Broc’s sword in disgust onto the table before the empty seat beside Aulus. He turned toward the doorway and waited, spine straight, feet braced, hands behind his back. Robert said something to the thistlemen, who took Broc into their custody and disappeared.

Enrick stopped before Quintius. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “Normally Sir Broc’s not this troublesome.”

“I’ve seen my share of drunks,” Quintius responded with a shrug. “A little teamwork is all it takes to resolve the problem.”

Wish it were that simple. Suddenly I realized how badly I was shaking. As Robert and Quintius returned to their chairs, the castellan’s gaze on me grew concerned. “Milady?”

I managed to sit down with some modicum of grace. “I’m all r- right,” I assured Robert. Beyond him, Quintius glanced at me from replacing his seat. Instead of taking it, he bowed to me.

“Lady, it was a fine meal,” he turned to Titus. “If you’ll excuse us, sir, we’d best be getting back and making certain the men are settled for the night.”

“Very well, Fannius,” Titus resumed his seat. “Thank you, gentlemen.”

The four legionaries clapped fists to mailed chests, then collected their helms and gladii before heading out the dining room. Rodric signaled to Padriac, who moved around the table to his side.

“If you’ll excuse me, milady,” he bowed from his seated position, “I’d best get to bed. I’ll be traveling by oxcart tomorrow and I am certain it will be more exhausting than riding my charger!” He rose as Robert and Padriac pulled the heavy chair backwards. Once again leaning on his captain, Sir Rodric made his farewells before limping out of the dining room.

I fought the temptation to give in to my anger and weariness. “I am s- sorry, Lieutenant,” I murmured as Robert returned to his seat at my right. “I cannot tell you h- how embarrassed I am by Sir Broc’s behavior.”

“Drink makes men behave in unexpected ways,” Titus responded, his eyes on the strong tea still in his cup. He swirled it and took a sip before he met my gaze. “It also makes them show their true colors.”

“So it does,” I agreed. “Sir Broc was loyal to my h- husband when he was alive, but he does not hold me with the same respect.”

“Forgive me for being blunt, Lady,” Titus lowered his gaze to the board. “It appears to me that Sir Broc sees you as little more than a tramp.” He held up his hand placatingly at Robert’s growl. “I know, that was out of bounds, and I apologize.”

“It’s not the first t- time I’ve been accused of that,” I said wearily, laying my hand on Robert’s wrist. The big castellan calmed down, but continued glaring at the lean Colovian.

“This Sir Broc makes me concerned for your safety, Lady -“ Titus began. This time Robert slapped the table with his big hands, shaking me off as he shot to his feet.

“It is none of your business, Colovian!” he grated between clenched teeth. Titus remained seated, his gaze unflinching on Robert.

I leaned forward and tugged at Robert’s sleeve. “Actually, it is h- his business,” I said quietly. “One of the reasons General Talos stationed Lieutenant Alorius with me is t- to ensure I don’t lose my place as Lord of Cardonaccum. Do you r- remember?” Slowly the big man settled back down, though his scowl didn’t ease.

“Your loyalty does much to set my mind at ease, Castellan,” Titus nodded respectfully at Robert. “Do you agree that we share at least this much in common? That the Lady’s safety and her place on the seat of Cardonaccum is a priority for both of us?”

Robert cleared his throat, then finally nodded curtly. “Aye, that much is true,” he begrudged. “Though I question the motives of your General Talos.”

“That’s understandable,” Titus inclined his head again. He turned to me. “And what will you do about Sir Broc?”

“He has been told to leave t- tomorrow for his manor,” I answered. “Though as drunk as he is tonight, I wonder if he’ll be in any c- condition to head out in the morn.”

“Are you certain you want him out of your sight, Lady?” Titus asked. “After all, it is advised to keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”

“True, and ordinarily I would do th- that,” I suppressed the shudder at the thought of bearing Sir Broc’s continual insinuations through the dark days of winter. “But with your men h- housed in our barracks, I fear that his behavior and words may incite his men to stir up trouble.” I shook my head. “It would only end badly.”

Titus was silent for several moments. “But back in his manor, what’s to stop him from plotting against you?”

“Nothing, really,” I leaned back wearily in the chair and sipped the tea, now cooling. “We shall need t- to be prepared for action from that quarter.” I met Titus’s gaze. “He has a younger brother that Wallace wanted to place in ch- charge of that manor. But Tywin is too young for knighthood. He hasn’t even begun squire t- training yet.”

“What Sir Broc said to you tonight was treason,” Titus would not let it go. “That is a punishable crime, at least in the Colovian Estates.”

“As it is here,” I answered. “But he was drunk when he said those th- things. Never has he been so blatant when he was sober. I’d rather wait until he condemns himself through s- sober, overt action before I punish him.”

“And after tonight,” Robert added, “we know just how he really feels about milady sitting in milord’s seat. We’ll watch him all the closer for it.”

“Very well,” Titus drained the last of his strong tea. “Both of you know Sir Broc better than I do. All I see is a foolish young man who is desirous of your body, Lady, as well as all that comes with it.” Again Robert growled at him, again Titus waved a placating hand.

“Robert,” I admonished him gently. “You know I appreciate h- honesty above all else.” I turned back to Titus. “And I do appreciate your honesty, Lieutenant, though it may be blunt at times.”

“And I appreciate the same from you, Lady, and you, Castellan.” Titus shifted to rise, but I put my hand out to him.

“I’d like a little more of your t- time, Lieutenant, if you don’t mind.” When he sat back, I turned to Robert. “Please excuse us. The things I wish to discuss are best k- kept between the Lieutenant and myself for the moment.”

“Milady,” Robert began his protest. “You shouldn’t be alone with -“

“Did I not tell you to hold me in the same r- regard that you once held Lord Wallace?” I kept my tone soft, but he flinched at my reminder.

“Of course,” he replied. “But it’s difficult, after that so-called knight insulted you -.” His voice trailed away.

“Worry about it no more,” I assured him. “Go, please.”

I waited until Robert had left the room before turning to the shadows behind me. “Niall, Gavin?”

“Yes, milady,” Niall appeared at my side. “Do you wish to leave the table?”

“Yes, please,” I answered, irritated at my inability to depart the board without assistance. I have to replace this lord’s chair. As they drew the chair back, two other pages did the same for Titus. “Lieutenant, let’s t- take our wine and sit beside the fire,” I gestured toward the hearth behind me. “This way the folk can c- clear away the dishes and leave us in privacy.”

Niall understood the implicit command and had the pages clear away the remains of dinner very quickly. Titus and I sat in silence, facing each other across the small table beside the flickering flames. As the folk departed the room, Titus met my gaze.

“There is something I am wondering about, Lady,” he began slowly. “But it may be too personal for you to answer.”

“It won’t hurt to ask,” I answered, cradling the goblet in my palms.

“I understand that when Lady Elspeth passed away, several of the local nobles tried to interest Lord Wallace in their daughters. Instead he went across the mountains and chose you. Why?”

I avoided Titus’s gaze, swirling the wine in my goblet as I struggled to gather my whirling emotions under tighter control.

“I’m sorry, Lady,” Titus’s soft voice held contrition. “I can see that you miss your husband terribly.”

I met the lieutenant’s gaze. “It is something I’ve wondered, myself.” I said finally. “I’m not beautiful like h- his first wife. I have no magicka to c- call my own.” I caught his frown. “My strength c- comes from Nirn. I can tell you this since General T- Talos seems to know it already.” I pulled up the hem of my skirts to reveal my bare feet. “As long as my feet are in contact with Nirn, I can withstand magic directed against me, and I r- remain strong and healthy.”

“But we’re on a stone floor,” Titus’s voice held bemusement. “And the upstairs is wooden, I believe.”

“Stone and wood contain the energy of Nirn,” I answered. “They have been merely shaped by mortal hands, not altered or processed. Wool, leather, even paper all have had the power leached out of them.”

“So when you rode Rosehill -“ Titus was still struggling to understand my strength and weakness.

“The strength of Nirn is great indeed,” I said. “It is slow to wane, and slow to renew. The time I rode R- Rosehill was not long enough to make me significantly ill.”

“How many here know of this?” Titus waved his hand vaguely, indicating the donjon and the bailey beyond.

“Just about everyone,” I answered. “When I first came h- here, one of the women insisted I wear shoes. I was young, and anxious to make a good impression, so I let her have h- her way. I grew very ill over the period of a few months.” I looked down at the goblet. “It was Lord Wallace who understood the s- source of my illness, and he made me swear never to wear shoes again.”

“No wonder you loved him so,” Titus murmured. “Do you think to hide your grief? It shows in your eyes every time you speak of him. There are other times when you say nothing, but I can see it, so it must be when you think of him.” He turned his face to the fire. “I can not imagine what it is like for a woman to lose the man she loves.”

I considered him over the rim of my goblet. Is he married? Does he have a love back home, wherever home is for him? “Is there s- such a woman for you, Lieutenant?”

“My wife,” his voice was a whisper. “Two girls. I haven’t seen them for two years.”

“The life of a soldier is a h- hard one,” I matched his tone. “Who suffers more, the soldier torn away from his family, or the family left behind t- to wait and hope for his return?” He did not answer for several breaths. “My turn to ask you s- something, Lieutenant?”

He shook himself and met my gaze. “What is it you wish to know?”

“What sort of man is General Talos?” I held his eyes steadily. “Will he h- honor our truce, or have I made a deal with the daedra?”

Titus fell silent again, his eyes shadowed from the fire. “He is cunning,” he said finally. “He is ambitious, and will stop at nothing to gain that ambition.”

My heart sank. “What is his ambition?”

“To be Emperor of Tamriel.”

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Nov 24 2013, 08:56 PM

Dun dun daaaa....wait, I already knew that.

As someone who has extensive experience with drunkenness, I can assure you that Broc was convincingly pished.


Hehe, going to have to borrow that.


Interesting that Cora wasn't more severe with Broc; after all, that was treason and while looking like a soft touch has its benefits in this situation it leaves me worried that other malcontents might think that they can get away similar deeds without much in the way of repercussion. If I'd been in her shoes (or rather, lack of them) he'd be stripped of his Knighthood and out on his arse faster than you could say 'Talos can go teach his grandmother to suck eggs'.

Posted by: Acadian Nov 25 2013, 08:18 PM

I was focused on Titus’ manner, actions and reactions throughout both the Broc episode, and the fireside chat. You were right – I do like him. He has the presence and polish of an officer that includes a noble and frank level of honesty.

“What Sir Broc said to you tonight was treason,” Titus would not let it go. “That is a punishable crime, at least in the Colovian Estates.”
“As it is here,” I answered. “But he was drunk when he said those th- things. Never has he been so blatant when he was sober. I’d rather wait until he condemns himself through s- sober, overt action before I punish him.”
- - I will not second-guess milady. Her choice was difficult and, likely, contained elements of both careful calculation and an element of tolerance. Naturally, I hope Broc fetches up again while sober and gets properly skewered so he cannot cause more trouble.

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 25 2013, 09:35 PM

Just when I thought Sir Broc could not make a bigger ass of himself! At least it ended without bloodshed. For now at least. If Cora were a cold-blooded ruler, or a hot-blooded one, he'd be dead after that display. But luckily for him, I do not think she is anxious to execute people. Though I expect that by the end of this story, Sir Broc's head will be stuck upon a pike.

“I understand that when Lady Elspeth passed away, several of the local nobles tried to interest Lord Wallace in their daughters. Instead he went across the mountains and chose you. Why?”
Now that is the million drake question, is it not?

So Titus has a family. I was wondering about that myself. He is a young up and comer, if he was not married yet, I figured it could not be too long.

“He is cunning,” he said finally. “He is ambitious, and will stop at nothing to gain that ambition.”
That sounds like the Talos I expect.

Posted by: ghastley Nov 26 2013, 10:45 PM

The big question is whether Broc was sober enough that he'll remember any of this later. And will everyone else remind him, or just watch and wait? He does seem to be getting the proverbial "enough rope".

Posted by: Captain Hammer Dec 1 2013, 06:02 PM

Oh, Broc, I don't think that thine lady started without thee. It's more like you started the heavy drinking without anybody else.

It was nice to see the dinner go so well (mostly) for Cora and her guests. The alternation of seating arrangements was a nice touch and a subtle way of pushing forward with her goal of integrating the legionaries into life at Cardonaccum. The discussion of tactics and the legion's success rate was particularly good, nothing beats a dinner conversation among knights and soldiers talking tactics over the roast beef.

I'll join the others in voicing my approval of this new light that's shining on Titus. He's articulate, honest, and personable, but you also see that he's unyielding and brutally cunning.

Also, the exchange between Lady Cora and Titus after everybody else is gone. I'm hoping that she comes to a better end, but Cora reminds me of Robb Stark remarking that a vassal who drew his sword "only meant to cut my meat for me." The new Lord Cardonaccum seems equally deft at (s)wordplay.

I retract earlier statements made to the contrary. That was what I was waiting for, to see if you would be bringing GENERAL TALOS STORMCROWN, DRAGON OF THE NORTH!!!! to the story. Now, let's see if he gets angry.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Dec 1 2013, 07:12 PM

@Colonel Mustard: Don't worry, when Broc acts up again, we will see Lady Cora come down very, very hard on him. Thanks for your endorsement of my drunken dialogue, it is much appreciated!

@Acadian: Titus is a gem to write--I guess I can call this the secondary character syndrome. I love writing secondary characters, as you have seen with Jannet, Robert, Rodric, and now Titus. The problem is keeping their moments restrained so they don't take over the whole story! As for Broc, he will properly fetch himself up once more, so don't worry!

@SubRosa: Your expectations concerning Sir Broc are tempting! But events will take their due course, and you will see where Broc's head ends up.

@ghastley: Yes, that is exactly what Lady Cora is doing--giving Broc enough rope. Not only does she have to worry about the opinions of her own crofters, she also has to worry about those of the nobles surrounding Cardonaccum. Because of her position, any hint of tyranny on her part can lead to one of the other myriad minor nobles inhabiting that part of High Rock taking over her seat under the claim of "fighting tyranny." Her liaison with Talos is bad enough.

@BamBam: Titus is a really cool character in his own right. I'm glad that he has been so open about himself as far as his motivations and priorities. We will see more of these discussions between Lady Cora and Lieutenant Alorius. And yes, Talos is indeed THE DRAGONBORN OF THE NORTH!!!

The story so far: Titus's legion has come to Cardonaccum. A very drunken Broc has disgraced himself in front of Lady Cora and her guests. Now we move on through the winter into the following spring.

*******************
Chapter Twenty-three

I wiped my hands dry as I stepped out of the stables. Behind me, soft whickerings assured me that the latest foal was doing well. The mare, one of our saddle horses who had been bred to Wallace’s stallion Nightshade, had little difficulty with the delivery. She had accepted this first foal quickly, showing all the appropriate maternal behavior that I liked to see in broodmares. The foal, a sturdy little colt with spidery legs, was strong and energetic, whinnying before he was even completely discharged from his dam’s womb.

We will have to move them out to the stud farm. Nightshade, too, now that there is no one to ride him into battle anymore. I had stopped by his stall and whispered my congratulations into his ear. Standing next to him, I had noticed the fresh hoofmarks in the walls. He can’t be cooped up now that we’re moving into spring. Though the grooms exercised him daily on the long line, it was not the same thing as far as Wallace’s favorite mount was concerned.

“What did Foxglove have?” Enrick greeted me in the bailey as I made my way toward the donjon.

“A fine colt,” I answered. “Strong, healthy. Black, of course.”

“Not another Nightshade!” Enrick mock-groaned. “Two stallions in the same stable are too much already!”

I chuckled. “Actually, I am thinking of sending Nightshade out to the stud farm along with Foxglove and her colt. He needs the room to run.”

“Aye, where the grass is greener and the mares are prettier!” Enrick lifted his eyes to the blue sky above. I caught Titus’s approach.

“Except for R- Rosehill, you mean,” I said to Enrick, directing his attention to the Legion commander.

“And younger,” Enrick added hastily as Titus stopped beside us. “Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, Captain,” Titus returned the greeting. “Lady. I take it you have another foal this morn?”

“Yes, Foxglove had a colt.”

“Congratulations,” Titus smiled at us. “The more time I spend here, the better I understand Cardonaccum’s reputation for fine horses. I am certain Foxglove’s colt is an excellent specimen.”

“Of course!” Enrick exclaimed. “He’s sired by Nightshade, no less!”

Titus rose an eyebrow. “I haven’t yet bred Inferno. He is still quite young. But I like to think he is at least close in quality as your Lord’s stallion.”

I laid a restraining hand on Enrick’s arm, but the captain was smiling. “Having seen your Rosehill,” he remarked, “I wonder if Inferno will pass on her docile temperament.”

“Inferno is a t- typical stallion,” I broke in lightly. “Just as Nightshade is t- typical himself. It would be wise not to deny them the prerogatives of s- stallionhood.” I turned to Titus. “If you think you can spare him for a s- sevenday, Inferno is welcome to visit our stud farm. I find myself curious about h- how he would cross with our bloodlines.”

“It’s all Cadric can talk about,” Enrick remarked. “He thinks Inferno would be a good cross on Nightshade’s daughters.”

“Rosehill is getting on in years,” Titus commented with a sidelong glance at me. “I am at a loss in finding her replacement--" His voice trailed off deliberately. Enrick’s grin widened.

“Then we have little time in finding a granddaughter of hers suitable enough to take her place!” I exclaimed. “Just tell Cadric when you want to s- send Inferno off, and he’ll see to it!”

Titus made a show of thought, rubbing his chin with overt deliberation. “Well, I suppose if I’m going to do it, it should be now. Before the ground dries enough for the bandits and war parties to come out of hibernation.”

“Then I shall leave you to it,” I gathered my skirts. “As for me, it’s been a long day already, and I have many h- hours to go yet!” It was true - I had spent the early morning hours sitting with Foxglove while she flirted with the idea of foaling. In the end it seemed as if the foal impatiently crawled his way out before the mare could decide what to do.

As I headed for the donjon, I heard Enrick ask Titus about the drilling patterns for the day. By the time the Legion commander replied, I was too far away to catch his words, but I could hear the easy tone of his voice.

In the beginning it had been difficult, but the early rapport that had developed between the Legion officers and my own endured. As I had hoped, seeing the leaders get along and work together with minimum friction had set the example for the rank and file. Now, with the scent of spring softening the chill air and the snow blanket shrinking day by day, the men drilled together quite often. Cardonaccum’s scouts and rangers taught the legionaries how to use the terrain to gather information, how to read the movement of hostile forces in the swirling of ravens in the hills, and how to predict the chaotic weather patterns.

In exchange, Titus’s men taught Enrick’s fighting soldiers the tactics of close-quarters combat, until my men could handle the gladii as handily as they did their own long swords and pikes. Robert’s own castle thistlemen soon took to carrying similar leaf-shaped blades on their hips along with their halberds.

The warmth from the weak sun lingered on my shoulders as I entered the shadows of the donjon. Robert met me in the center of the great hall. “Good morning milady, colt or filly?”

“A black colt with an attitude,” I replied. Robert laughed softly and shook his head. “Listen, I think it’s t- time to visit the crofters in the hills,” I continued. “It’s lambing season, and I want to make certain they lack for naught.”

“And find new sources for your alchemical fiddlings, I’m certain,” Robert added. “How many thistlemen, do you think?”

“T- two should be enough,” I answered. With Broc still licking his wounded pride at Northside Manor, both Titus and Robert fretted over my safety each time I ventured outside the walls of the bailey. While I understood and appreciated their concern, I refused to remain cooped up inside the castle. The guard escort was our compromise.

“And I will be taking Servius Terentius,” I named the Legion healer. “I hate to take Siné away from Cardonaccum when so many folk are s- still fighting the chills. Terentius has been interested in our folk ways, I think he’ll welcome the opportunity to learn new things.”

“The Lieutenant is fine with this?” Robert asked. I nodded. “Well, that’s good. The man carries a sword, too, after all.”

“Give me t- two of your bowmen.” I can use their keen sight to spot early blooms. The snowbells and the crocuses should be coming up in some areas.

Soon I was leaving Cardonaccum Castle behind. Two thistlemen, dark Rory and burly Mungo, accompanied me, one in front and one behind. Servius, lean in his ranger leathers, paced at my side. After a winter of foraging for alchemical flora with me in the dean south of the castle, he had become accustomed to my ability to travel barefoot over rough ground.

We headed to the eastern hills, past the clearing where Talos had pitched his headquarters. Beyond the bramble thickets we found snowbells and crocuses on the southwestern faces of the stones, where the sun had the longest to warm the dirt. They had not yet bloomed, but Servius found them very interesting nonetheless.

“So they’re at peak potency when they’re just blooming?” he asked. “About when would that be?”

I glanced at the sky. “As long as the sun stays out all day today, and we don’t get frost t- tonight,” I spoke slowly, “tomorrow or the day after.”

“That soon?” Servius peered closer at the tiny plants. I straightened up and glanced at Rory. Feet braced on the boulder above us, he scanned the area around us restlessly.

“Yes, that soon,” I answered. “If we get the chance, we should come back this way tomorrow.”

“I’d like that very much, Lady,” Servius unfolded his lean form from his kneeling. “And where are these crofts you seek?”

“Just over that ridge,” Rory answered for me, pointing up hill. “There’s a nice vale there where the grass is getting an early start. Good lambing grounds for the ewes.”

“Then let’s go,” Servius’s eagerness spurred the thistlemen on. Rory leaped down from his vantage point and took the lead up the slope. Mungo brought up the rear, constantly turning and stepping backwards to scan our back trail. Both thistlemen carried their bows ready in hand.

The sun was at its zenith when we reached the first of the five crofts clustered at the head of the vale. Sheep filled the stone pens up on the windy slopes, and crofters moved among them with their herding dogs.

One of the croft wives gathered at the stream spotted us. She shaded her eyes with her hand, then waved. I waved back. The women collected around us as we drew near.

“Greetings, milady!” they spoke together. “Welcome to Pyke’s Dell!”

“Thank you,” I answered. “We came to see if you needed anything after the winter. It hasn’t been too hard on you, has it?”

“No worse than usual,” the senior woman shrugged round shoulders. “Old Mam Pyke passed at midwinter,” she turned and indicated a fresh cairn that had not been there last fall. “And Annie’s lost her wee bairn to th’ plague last month.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Mona,” I said. “It’s so hard when a little one dies. Do you still have the plague here?”

“Ah, no,” Mona shook her head. “It was just th’ wee one. And Mam was old an’ forgetful, you recall.”

“Yes, I had noticed that she was not recognizing very many of her family when I last visited,” I agreed. “And she had become so frail. How many years did she s- see?”

“Let’s see,” Mona put her hands on her hips and tipped her head back. “She was twenty-three when I was born, and I’m thirty-nine now. That would make her -“ She paused as her fingers ticked off the sum. “- sixty-two years.” She nodded decisively to herself. “Yes, that’s right. Sixty-two.”

Servius’s brows rose. “Only sixty-two?”

“Only sixty-two?” Mona echoed him indignantly. “I’ll tell ye that’s a nice, round age! I’m past me prime as it is!”

I could see Servius struggling to understand the highland burr. “This is Servius Terentius,” I introduced him. “He is a h- healer from the Colovian Estates.” I turned to him and quickly translated Mona’s accent.

“Ach, part of th’ truce?” Mona eyed him speculatively.

Servius understood that much. “Yes, ma’am,” he bowed to her. “And I’m here to learn new things.”

“Ach, you’ve come to the right place, then!” Mona exclaimed. She turned to the other women and made shooing motions. I noticed a couple of the younger ones, still unmarried by their flowing hair, eyeing Servius speculatively as they lingered behind the others. Rory caught my gaze and smiled wryly. In his late thirties, he already had a daughter approaching marriageable age. Often I overheard him complaining that she was giving him grey hairs where the sun didn’t shine with her growing interest in boys.

“It’s spring,” I said to Rory, gesturing toward Mungo, who was watching the girls with an interest of his own.

“So it is, milady,” he responded as Mona drew Servius after him toward the rough stone building in the center of the settlement, where they pooled their alchemical resources. “At least Mona’s happily settled with her man!”

I felt a twinge at the reminder of my own happiness with Wallace. The buried grief stirred deep within my breast.

“Forgive me, milady,” Rory turned his face away. “I didn’t mean to remind you -“

“It’s all right,” I answered. “I’d rather remember the good times we had together, than the end.” And it was true, I could easily forget the sight of Wallace’s ravaged face now, simply by recalling the moments we had shared. “I’ve been blessed to have been s- settled with a man I loved.”

“And now we are all blessed with you, milady,” Rory bowed to me. He stepped back and whistled to Mungo. “We’d best check the perimeter. Send word when you’re ready to leave.”

Posted by: SubRosa Dec 1 2013, 07:55 PM

Nightshade and Foxglove. I love your horse names, even if they are a bit poisonous! Now I expect the other horses to be named Monkshood, Hemlock, Oleander, Yew, Larkspur, and so on...

With all the talk of stallions, I could not help but think of Sir Broc. He is a typical stallion as well. I expect that after spending the winter cooped up in his manor, there are hoof prints on his walls as well.

Robert’s own castle thistlemen soon took to carrying similar leaf-shaped blades on their hips along with their halberds.
An army equipped with Stings! Seriously though, I have always loved the elegant flowing curves of the Xiphos. The Gladius looks like a butcher's tool in comparison. Which I suppose is rather appropriate...

“And I will be taking Servius Terentius,”
I wonder if four centuries from now, Servius will have an descendant who becomes a wastrel of a Count?

I loved all the time spent on everyday country life. The discussions about horses and their breeding, likewise with the sheep, the gathering of ingredients just when they come to ripeness, and so forth. It is a wonderful little touch that adds a great sense of realism to the entire story.

Posted by: Grits Dec 2 2013, 02:26 PM

In the beginning it had been difficult, but the early rapport that had developed between the Legion officers and my own endured.

I love how this part comes after the little scene with Titus and the horse planning has provided an example. *takes notes*

I like Servius already. Secondary character syndrome? Yes, please!!

grey hairs where the sun didn’t shine

Lol. That was a real tea-spitter. Never saw it coming!

Posted by: Acadian Dec 2 2013, 09:23 PM

Devoting the first scene of this episode to horses – what’s not to love about that?

I’m pleased to see the truce held through the winter and that the disparate forces even grew close enogh to share some of the unique features of their own tactics. It seems the only hoof marks on the walls from being cooped up all winter are those from Nightshade. And perhaps from Broc inside his manor?

Then off to chase flowers and sheep.

‘she was giving him grey hairs where the sun didn’t shine’
- - Hey! Who’s been peeking under my kilt?


'I felt a twinge at the reminder of my own happiness with Wallace. The buried grief stirred deep within my breast.
“Forgive me, milady,” Rory turned his face away. “I didn’t mean to remind you -“

- - Rory’s pretty insightful here. . . . And again, here:

“And now we are all blessed with you, milady,” Rory bowed to me.‘

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Dec 4 2013, 02:09 PM

Ooh arr, that were right proper parochial, that were.

The transition from winter to spring was well handled, and works as a way of showing how the Legion is integrating into Cardonaccum, and the season itself served as a nice little allusion to new life etc springing forth. The glimpse into the daily workings of the area around Cardonaccum was interesting as well, and the setting was nicely evoked; made me think a bit of The Chalk from Terry Pratchett's Nac Mac Feegle books.

Posted by: Captain Hammer Dec 8 2013, 05:23 PM

Glad I commented on the previous one before this story pulled a time-skip.

So, Sir Broc's been packed off for the winter, and without the drain on the cellars the tempers have cooled and the rapport has grown. I wonder, though, has his time at his manor been spent fomenting insurrection, or was he content to ferment drink for his inebriation. Perhaps I forget that my wordplay requires previous inoculation.

So, it's off to the crofters, while Titus looks into trading stud services for a new travel-horse. Cyrodillic mercantilism at its finest.

Of course, it looks as though Inferno isn't the only Cyrod stallion whose stud services may be required.

The pacing and material of this installment was a touch. The immediate domestic matters of Nightshade's new son, followed by the discussion of logistics for the new season and then Lady Cora's decision to begin visiting the crofters helps work in the feel of having spent a winter in Cardonaccum with spring now upon them. Just don't rush off to summer.

Also, wanted to ask, 450 years, give or take, is enough for a true-breeding, black stallion's bloodline to eventually produce true-breeding, white stallions of High Rock, yes?

Posted by: haute ecole rider Dec 8 2013, 08:36 PM

@SubRosa: Thank you for your endorsement of my decision to linger over this aspect of life at Cardonaccum. I wanted to show how involved in day-to-day management our Lady Cora is, and how seriously she takes her responsibility to her people in the wake of Wallace's passing and the drama of the previous fall. Also thanks for the additional horse names! I have them saved to my hard drive somewhere!

@Grits: I didn't even plan the timing of the scene you mentioned and the line you quoted, but now that you pointed it out, I'll have to make a note of that myself! As I'm sure you have seen with my previous writing, I prefer to show how relationships develop over time through little vignettes like this rather than just tell it.

@Acadian: Looks like I'm suffering badly from secondary character syndrome! First Servius, now Rory! I've always pictured him as a smallish, wiry, dark Welshman -- the kind that gave the Saxons grief when they came to England, the kind that hung on to their independence through the succession of English kings that followed. This is the Welsh flavor that shines here -- in the description of the people of Cardonaccum. When I think of the Bretons of 450 years later, this is the model I draw upon - the tough no-nonsense Welshmen and Welshwomen. I'm glad you enjoyed the little insight into his character that I've put here.

@Colonel Mustard: I've not read much of Terry Pratchett, but I do know he is a genius of a fantasy writer. I read one of his stories a long time ago (I can't even remember which one it was) and laughed myself silly. I'm glad you were reminded of his work in reading mine!

@BamBam: I don't think we will be rushing off into summer anytime soon! I think you will have your answer concerning Sir Broc's winter activities in today's episode. That little section you quoted? Well, I wanted to highlight how fascinated people are by the exotic. Women seem to be strongly attracted to that unknown stranger from outside their village, and I'm sure men are the same way whenever a female outsider rides into town. Oh, and stallions don't provide brood services, they provide stud services! After all, we have broodmares but not broodstallions! Interesting thought of yours about any possible link between Nightshade and Blanco. TBH, it was not something that crossed my mind, as Nightshade is purely a mortal horse, while Blanco is a Witchhorse from the Western Reaches. But it wouldn't surprise me to see a descendant of this black stallion among Julian's white stallion's ancestors. Many breeds are the result of mixtures of older breeds. The http://www.lipizzan.org/aboutlipizzans.html that Blanco is based on is the result of several other breeds, including the older Neapolitano, the Iberian horse (which also formed the basis of the Andalusian and the Lustitano breeds and is itself the product of Berber and Arab horses on local Spanish horses), and the local Karst horses in what is now Yugoslavia.

The story so far: It is now early in the spring, and the snow is melting away. Cora has taken two thistlemen and a Legion healer, Servius Terentius, out into the hills to check on crofters and look for early blooms.

******************
Chapter Twenty-four

It was late afternoon by the time Servius finally worked himself free of Mona and her husband Tael. They had taken us around all the lambing pens, showing Servius how they treated the most common ewe ailments. As he listened to them, Servius became more animated, and I realized that he was becoming used rather quickly to their highland burr. He will have much to tell his comrades when we get back home.

As we started down the trail back to Cardonaccum, Servius turned to me. “Thank you for inviting me along, Lady. I learned much today.”

“Including the h- highland dialect?” I teased him. He laughed heartily and agreed. As we walked along, we began discussing the variety of tidbits he had picked up from the crofters.

“Lady,” Servius paused on the boulder strewn slope above the bramble thicket separating the hills from the moor. “Just how long do Bretons live?”

I glanced at him in some surprise. “Sixty, seventy years in th- these parts,” I answered. “That’s a good, full life for most.” My eyes narrowed at him. “Just how long do C- Colovians live?”

“One hundred years is not unusual,” he navigated a particularly rough patch, offering me his hand over the rockier parts. “I wonder, though -“

A shout from Mungo, in the lead this time, alerted us to potential danger. Rory leaped down beside us and pushed me down beside a high boulder.

Servius transformed from an easy-going healer to a professional soldier in an instant, drawing his gladius and glancing at Rory for information. Signals I failed to grasp passed between the two, then I heard the twanging from lower down the slope.

Rory scrambled up onto the rock above my head as Servius crouched beside me. “Outlaws in the clearing, Lady,” the legionary said to me. “Stay here.” Then he scooted out of sight around the curve of the boulder.

Soon I could hear the clattering of arrows as Rory landed beside me. “Don’t move, milady,” he said before running up hill, crouched low to take advantage of the cover from the rocks. More shouting, some far away, others nearer, none belonging to my escort, told me that we were outnumbered. My heart in my mouth, I plunged my hands through the cold snow onto the thawing ground beneath.

Arkay, Kyne, give me strength. Don’t let harm come to these men protecting me. See us all home safely. I could feel the power of Nirn oozing between my fingers, a slow pulsing that calmed my own heartbeat.

Servius reappeared, his blade bloodied. “Mungo’s down, Lady,” he gasped as he reached down for me. “Let’s go, we need to fall back.” His tone was clipped, quiet, but I could sense the urgency in his manner. His hand on my elbow steadied me as I scrambled to my feet and ran after him.

Somehow I managed to keep up with his longer strides. Rory fell in behind us from out of nowhere, pausing long enough to send several arrows whizzing into the brambles at the foot of the slope. I glanced back in time to see him toss his bow into the brush, his quiver now empty. He spun on his heel and bolted after us, his gladius drawn. “Run, milady!”

I gathered my skirts to my knees and darted after Servius, skipping between the boulders. We had nearly reached the crest of the first ridge beyond the clearing when shouting stopped me in my tracks. I whirled back in time to see Rory’s flashing gladius drive back three attackers. They wore leathers, much like Rory and Servius. Unlike Servius’s red cloak, and Rory’s forest green, these men’s tattered cloaks were a nondescript grey.

Another flurry and clashing of blades, and Rory dropped from sight beneath descending weapons. “Rory!” I shouted in horror at the swiftness of the attack. Servius seized my arm and hauled me over the top after him. We ran down the opposite slope into the hawthorn woods, their gnarled branches snagging my full skirts and Servius’s cloak.

The frenetic pace began to burn in my lungs, and I gasped desperately for air and speed. Though the rocks were more sparse here, the jutting roots of the trees threatened to trip me if I let my attention wander.

Servius stopped so suddenly that I slammed into his back. My hands on his left arm, I looked past him to see two forms blocking the faint path between the trees ahead. Their long blades shimmered dully in the striped shadows cast by the bare branches overhead.

I cast a desperate glance around. Behind us, I could hear Rory’s killers crashing through the woods. To the right, the ground sloped down, and I could see a glimmer of water through the black trunks. Suddenly I knew where we were.

“Servius, this way!” I managed to gasp, tugging him in that direction. He turned and followed me without hesitation as I bolted down the tumbled slope. Thunkings warned me that our pursuers were now shooting arrows after us. Fortunately the hawthorn trees got in the way and blocked them.

Most of them. Something slammed into my right shoulder hard, sending me reeling over a jutting root. The rough bark caught my left foot and wrenched me off balance. The adjacent trunk slammed hard into the left side of my face, sending stars swimming through my vision. Dizziness drove me to my knees. Hot fluid surged down my neck, sending trickles onto my ribs and onto my left cheek.

The trees spun around me as Servius reached down for me, but I knocked him away. “I can’t run anymore!” I gasped. “You have to go back to C- Cardonaccum! Keep running down hill until you find the brook th- then follow it west! Go!”

“No!” Servius hauled me back to my feet. “I will not leave you!” Before I could protest, he was running again, his left hand holding my elbow in a hard grip. My legs managed to move just well enough to keep me upright.

I could feel the ground beginning to level out as we approached the watercourse. Arrows still smacked around and behind us, as Servius wove his way between the trunks. I bit back my pain and dizziness until I tasted blood, but it still overwhelmed me at intervals as I reeled against his side.

One of the thudding noises hit with a different, duller pitch from the others, and Servius staggered. As I lurched away from him, my spinning vision caught sight of a shaft sticking out from between his ribs. He turned toward me, and another arrow appeared in his right biceps. The gladius clattered to the ground beside me as he fell.

Desperately I dropped to my knees and reached for the leather-wrapped hilt, but a pair of long blades touched my throat. I froze in place, the gladius just past my fingertips.

“Don’t move, Witch,” a growl drew my eyes upwards. I stared at the bearded face above me, unrecognizable in the gloom. “Try for that sword,” he shifted his blade to hover above Servius’s chest, “and this man dies.”

“H- how do I know you’re not going to k- kill him anyway?” I shot back breathlessly, but I drew my hand back.

“Tie him up,” the outlaw ordered one of the other men beside him. He grinned maliciously at me. “Because he may be of some value alive,” he answered. “As are you.” His gaze flickered, and hands seized my arms and drew them back. I cried out as the arrowhead grated in my shoulder. “Get up, Witch!” He seized the front of my kirtle and hauled me upright. I nearly collapsed when the rough handling set my vertigo into mad activity again.

“Boss, I think her head’s broke,” one of the men holding me volunteered. The outlaw’s grin widened.

“Good.” He remarked. “Then she can’t run away.”

Someone hoisted me roughly over a broad shoulder, stirring up the pain in my shoulder yet again. I caught whirling glimpses of Servius being hauled to his feet before blackness filled my vision.

Arkay, Kyne - - I never completed my prayer.

Once again I stood in that eerie passageway beneath corbeled arches. Once again the old fear surged beneath my breastbone at the sound of slow footsteps. Once again I sought the power of Nirn and failed.

As I did every time, I ran down the corridor toward the stairs at the far end. I glanced back once to see the dark figure following me. The winding stairway drew me down further into the maze. I managed to duck the swinging pendulums of the blade trap and reach the far side. As I fled deeper into the maze, I listened to the rhythmic swinging of those heavy bronze blades. They didn’t stop, nor did the sound of footsteps that followed me.

I kept running, further into the maze and deeper into the nightmare than I had ever gone. Suddenly the corridor opened into a small room, with a descending stair ahead of me and two more passageways, one on each side, leading away into immense darkness.

Pain in my shoulder roused me from the terrifying indecision. I opened my eyes to a campfire just past my curled knees. Biting back a whimper and tasting fresh blood, I lifted my head. It was then I realized that I lay on my injured shoulder.

A moan escaped my lips as I shifted onto my back, momentarily forgetting about the arrowhead still embedded in my flesh. I cried out as the steel ground against my shoulder blade and struggled to rise from that agony.

“Lady?” Servius’s pained voice cut through the red haze over my mind. “Don’t try to get up, it will only hurt worse.”

I lay still, fighting for breath against the pain. Finally I managed to open my eyes and look in the direction of his voice. He half-lay, half-sat beside me, bent protectively over me. His arms were still bound behind him, and I could see the blood coating the right sleeve of his leather jerkin.

“Where are we?” I whispered.

“Looks like a camp of theirs,” he whispered back. “It’s north of where the General had his headquarters last fall.” His head turned away from me for a moment, then back. “I overheard them talking. Sounds like we’re hostages - they were speaking of contacting someone for payment.”

“Did th- they mention a name?” I struggled to make sense of his words. At least I’m laying on bare ground. They may think it’s being cruel, but it’s a blessing for me. I could feel Nirn’s cold strength beneath my bruised cheek. Already the pain in my shoulder and head were subsiding beneath her comforting touch.

“No, I don’t think so,” Servius answered. I fought my bonds a moment before I realized that I couldn’t lift my hand to touch his skin. He sounds terrible. Shocky. Like Sir Rodric before Siné got to him.

“How are you h- holding up, Servius?”

“I’ll be fine,” he muttered. “Just flesh wounds.”

I didn’t believe him. Not that first arrow. That went between his ribs. It’s got to be in his lung.

“And you, Lady?” he would not dwell on himself. Typical healer. “Are you feeling much pain?”

“It’s better th- than it was,” I murmured.

“Be quiet!” A rough voice stopped Servius’s response. Bulky forms loomed over us and grasped Servius. He groaned as they dropped him a like a sack of potatoes a few steps away. “No talking!”

The outlaw who had spoken to me earlier knelt beside me, so close his lack of bathing stopped the breath in my throat. “Ye may charm that Colovian fetcher, Witch, but ye’ll never escape the fate that awaits ye.”

What fate is that? I gasped when his grubby hand closed around my throat. He applied just enough pressure to constrict my breathing and brought his hairy face down to mine. He took a long sniff of my hair, now sprung loose from its bindings. No! Not that!

“Don’t worry, Witch,” he whispered into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “A better man than me awaits ye!” He flung me back so I landed on the arrowhead still embedded in my shoulder, causing me to writhe in pain. He rose to his feet and moved away.

“You sent for me?” A new voice, with none of the rough accent of these outlaws, drew my attention back to the fire. My tormentor strode to stand before him, feet braced apart and hands gripping his belt.

I blinked away the panic and tried to focus on the newcomer. Who is that? I didn’t recognize the fair-haired soldier, but I recognized the emblem fastening his blue cloak to his shoulder. One of Broc’s men? So he’s plotted this?

Posted by: SubRosa Dec 9 2013, 02:55 AM

How easily a nice highland stroll can turn deadly! There seem to be an awful lot of bandits, and their accuracy with those bows, and their swords, seems a bit too good for mere outlaws. They are a match for the veteran soldiers guarding Cora, which tells me that they are no mere criminals. They strike me as being professional mercenaries sent out to ambush her. The only question is who sent them? Broc, or Onchu, or both?

“Don’t move, Witch,”
And how did they know that? Their boss obviously told them.

Ahh, and it was Broc after all.

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Dec 9 2013, 11:04 AM

BROOOOOOOC!! *Shakes fist at sky*

So Cora's been kidnapped (LordCardonaccumnapped?) and all she has on her side is a wounded healer/scout. She's a resourceful lady, mind, so I'll be interested to see what she thinks up to get out of this situation.

P.S. You haven't read much Terry Pratchett?! Egads, H.E.R., you have not lived!

Posted by: Acadian Dec 9 2013, 03:42 PM

So a pastorally pleasant day turns on a Septim into an ambush, then a frantic and heart pounding chase! And finally, captivity for Lady Cora.

I liked the subtle energy of her direct contact with the ground easing her pain somewhat.

Although his plans are not exactly clear, it seems Broc did indeed spend his winter plotting.


Nit? ‘Unlike Servius’s red cloak, and Rory’s forest green, these men’s tattered cloaks were an nondescript grey.’ - - I expect you wanted 'a' instead of 'an' preceding 'nondescript'. Heh, I imagine an earlier draft had an adjective that began with a vowel or vowel sound (like indistinct) before you perhaps changed it and overlooked the a/an.

Posted by: ghastley Dec 9 2013, 03:57 PM

Broc has of course abducted a legion man along with Cora, so he's got them to deal with regardless of his main target.

They're racking up a good list of paybacks when the chance comes, too.

Posted by: Grits Dec 13 2013, 04:02 PM

Oh noooo!!

I loved this bit:

Servius transformed from an easy-going healer to a professional soldier in an instant, drawing his gladius and glancing at Rory for information. Signals I failed to grasp passed between the two, then I heard the twanging from lower down the slope.

At least Lady Cora still has Servius with her, though it sounds like he’s in bad shape. If nothing else I hope he complicates things for Sir Broc.

That was a very exciting chase and capture!

Posted by: Captain Hammer Dec 15 2013, 07:35 PM

Okay, okay, I fixed the brood-or-stud nomenclature.

Have I mentioned that my knowledge of matters equine has come to total only the information previously detailed in your various posts?

And on a related note, the matter of fascination that people will have with exotic individuals is probably a manifestation of evolutionary behaviors designed to increase our chances at producing stronger offspring: Heterosis (Hybrid Vigor), which coincidentally relates to the chances of producing better horses at Cardonaccum with the stud (see, I can learn) services of a certain red, Cyrod-warhorse.

But enough about that. On to the post!

The first thing that struck me was the discrepancy in life-spans you put between Bretons and Imperials. I must admit that I work through the games on a similar basis, albeit I switch the two: the elven blood in Bretons makes them likely to live closer to the 100-year mark, and in my work I've already statted Hannibal Traven to be a spry 95!

The chase scene was very well put together. The urgency of the Thistlemen's actions, the attempt to use the terrain to elude the pursuit, and then the capture was well-executed.

Then you have to go and run through all the actual fears Cora would be having at realizing the threats facing her in her current predicament.

And we learn that Broc is involved. You did answer my questions. Now I have more.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Dec 15 2013, 08:53 PM

@SubRosa: Yes, how suddenly things turn from one to the other, indeed! Obviously those men were hired by another. Yes, you guessed right!

@Officer Condiment: Terry Pratchett is on my bucket list. So someday . . . Yes, Lady Cora is resourceful, but not quite in the way you think! You'll see!

@Acadian: Thanks for catching the nit! Your eagle eye is, as always, much appreciated! Yes, I think this chapter is where we really begin to see the source of Lady Cora's strength--and her weakness.

@ghastley: Payback will come very soon! Just not from the Legion or the thistlemen, at least not for these outlaws.

@Grits: I'm glad you picked out one of my favorite lines in this chapter -- the transformation of Servius from healer to soldier. I really wanted to show how fully integrated Titus's Legion and Lady Cora's thistlemen have become, that they can work together so seamlessly as a team.

@BamBam: You're right, the attraction to the exotic (or merely the strange) has its roots in evolution. I agree, the Elven blood in the Bretons should make them the longer-lived race of the two, but something in the Lore caught my eye and I figured, what the heck? It would explain more than a few things later in the story. I hope to answer your new questions and raise even more with this chapter!

The story so far: Lady Cora and legion healer Servius has been captured by a band of outlaws as they return to Cardonaccum after a day spent with hill crofters. Both of them have been injured in the mad chase through rough hill terrain. We have just learned that Sir Broc is behind the men's actions.

*********************
Chapter Twenty-five

Servius struggled to sit up as I watched the conversation near the fire. Broc! This is what he plotted after I kicked him out last fall? What does he plan for me? Kill me? Then how can he claim Cardonaccum? With no heir, Rodric would stand next in line. Unless he plans to oust Rodric, too. I gasped at a sudden realization. Would he dare kill Rodric too? Yes, he would.

“Servius,” I whispered. The healer’s head turned toward me. “That’s one of S- Sir Broc’s men.”

“I thought I recognized that blue cloak,” he muttered over his shoulder. “Lie still.”

“We h- have to get away,” I rolled onto my left shoulder and curled myself into a sitting position beside him. “Once we arrive at Northside Manor -“ my voice trailed off in despair at the thought of the stone keep. Like Cardonaccum, it was built to withstand siege. The last thing I wanted to see was that place brought to ruin in any attempt at rescue.

“I know,” Servius growled softly, his wrists working in frustration. I saw fresh blood glimmer down his leather sleeve.

“Stop,” I urged him. “Rest. C- conserve your strength for wh- when we get a chance.”

The blue-cloaked man clasped wrists with the outlaw leader in agreement. Then he strode over to us. His blond mustache barely hid his grin as he gazed down at us.

“Well, Witch, looks like you’re coming with me,” he reached down and grasped my shoulder. I managed to twist away and scooted backwards from him.

“What about him?” I jerked my chin at Servius.

“The outlaws can have him,” the Northsider shrugged his shoulders. “I’m here only for you, Witch.” He moved swiftly and caught my right shoulder, sending a fresh wave of pain coursing through my body.

I screamed.

Servius threw himself at the other man’s legs, toppling him away from me. I fell back, breathless from the pain and fighting a new wave of dizziness and nausea. One of the scruffy outlaws ran up and kicked Servius savagely in his back, over the arrow wound I knew was there. The legionary groaned and collapsed, his body becoming deathly still.

The Northsider regained his feet and caught my left arm. He pulled me up to my feet, and kept lifting me until I fell over his shoulder like a sack of grain. As he turned and marched away, I caught a last glimpse of Servius laying unconscious before outlaws ringed him and began kicking. My vision blackened to the sound of hard blows landing in rapid succession.

Arkay, Kyne - They hadn’t answered my pleas. I recalled my mother’s prayer to one older than these two, one so old no name could be remembered. Goddess, help Servius. Save Cardonaccum. Save me!

I heard snorting of a nervous horse, and the Northsider’s grumbling command to his mount to stand. Then I was thrown across the skittish animal’s rump. I sensed the horse’s pain as the man yanked hard on its rein. Then his leg brushed across my back as he mounted up and settled into the saddle.

“Damn ye, fetcher!” he growled again as the horse sidestepped and tossed its head. “Settle down!” Again the animal skittered, and bucked. I slid off and fell to the ground. Something hard came down on me, and ribs cracked below my left breast. Agony escalated to an unbearable point, stealing the very breath out of my throat.

Nirn surrounded me in its cool embrace as the Northsider landed beside me beneath the horse’s kicking heels. His face had disappeared in a mass of blood and gore, and I saw blood splattered halfway up one of the steed’s hind legs as the horse bolted into the woods.

My pain subsided enough for me to take a stabbing breath. The world around me trembled, the branches above me shaking. That’s odd. There’s no wind. Black spots danced like a swarm of bats between me and the campfire, which shook itself apart in a shower of sparks. A grinding sound emanated from everywhere beneath me. Nirnquake? Goddess! Not Servius! Don’t take him!

The outlaws fell back from their savage onslaught in terror and consternation. They exchanged glances with each other, then seized their scattered weapons and faded back into the woods. The trees above and the ground beneath grew still. Only collapsed tents and a bloodied pile of leather and fabric remained.

“Servius!” I tried to call but my voice could only come out as a slightly louder whisper. I stifled a moan at the pain in my side. That heap did not stir. I couldn’t even tell if he still breathed. By Oblivion, I can’t even breathe myself!

I glanced at the Northsider, still crumpled up beside me. He was most certainly dead. My gaze fell on the steel dagger at his belt.

Shifting my body to place my bound hands onto the hilt of that dagger took an eternity. Pain squeezed my chest and kept me from pulling a full breath. My vertigo worsened, as did the swarm of bats in my vision. I must cut these bonds away. I can’t help Servius until I do. I must get them off!

Somehow I managed to sever the ropes around my wrists with only a minor cut on my left forearm. The strength gone from my legs, I managed to crawl through the snow-covered mud toward the legionary.

It took all my remaining strength to free his arms and roll his slumped form onto his back. Blood gleamed blackly against the dark leather of his jerkin, in stark contrast to the whiteness of his face. For a moment the image of Wallace’s face in death swam into my vision, but I shook it away. No. Enough. This isn’t Wallace, though he risked everything to protect me.

As I wadded up his tattered cloak against the wound in his back, I prayed again to the Ancient One. Goddess, return this man to life. Let him recover. You have Mungo, you have Rory. Please don’t take Servius too. Haven’t you taken enough? But I knew her will was implacable.

The brush beyond the shattered fire rustled softly. I reached for the dagger and turned my head to look, still fighting for breath.

A feline face emerged from the thorn thicket, tawny gold with black stripes and glowing green eyes. Damn! A saber tooth? But that face was high above the ground, higher than my own height. I frowned at it as it moved forward. No, wait. I blinked at the bipedal form that now drifted slowly around the edge of the clearing toward me. It was dressed in leathers, much like the outlaws, much like my own escort, but its hands were covered in fur. A long tail trailed behind the creature.

The apparition crouched a short distance from me, and I spotted a bow mounted at its back. Sudden realization hit me. A Khajiit! But what is one doing here? They live on the opposite side of the Colovian Estates from here!

“Is the Lady hurrt?” The hissing voice brought me back to the present. I locked eyes with the Khajiit, who looked away first, scanning the surrounding forest. Its pointed ears twitched and swiveled, then those green eyes returned to me.

“Who are you?”

“This one is Do’saka,” it - no, he, drew out a handful of small vials from his belt pouch. “This one has healing potions to give the Lady.”

At first his form of address confused me. Finally I realized he was addressing me, not some invisible noblewoman, and I shook my head. “No, give them to S- Servius.” I indicated the legionary.

“That one’s wounds are grrievous,” Do’saka’s voice turned soft and his ears turned back. “That one will not live.”

“He must!” I took the potions from him and uncorked the first one. My hands shaking with the effort to breathe, I dribbled the violet fluid between Servius’s lips.

“It is morre important that the Lady live,” Do’saka insisted, gently retrieving the rest of the bottles from my shaking hands.

“They won’t work on me,” I gasped. “I - I have no magicka for th- them to draw on.”

His eyes widened and his ears twisted upright. “No magicka? How can the Lady be a Witch?”

“Give them to S- Servius!” I pleaded. “Please!”

Do’saka moved to the fallen legionary’s other side and cradled his head gently in one furry hand. With a dexterity surprising for one with claws, he administered the remaining potions carefully. After an eternity, Servius's breathing deepened, and Do'saka sat back.

"The Lady is hurrt as well," he purred. "Let this one cast a healing spell on herr."

Again I shook my head. "If you try to c- cast a spell on me," I whispered, "you will only end up losing your magicka. It will drain away like water on th- the desert sand."

Do’saka stared at me, his pupils dilating. “Then how can the Lady heal?” He reached out and touched my right shoulder with a gentle claw. As I flinched away from the contact, his gaze caught the stub of the arrow shaft protruding from the mangled flesh. “That wound is serrious,” he continued, “as arre the Lady’s otherr injurries.” He drew a line across his right brow, mirroring the gash above my own left one.

“I am a ch- child of Nirn,” I placed my palms flat on the cold ground before my knees. “My strength c- comes from her.”

Comprehension gleamed emerald in Do’saka’s gaze. “Ah, this one sees,” he purred. “Then this one shall ensure the Lady continues to drraw herr strrength from Nirrn.” He reached down to Servius’s face. “And the man wakens soon. This one will get the Lady and herr champion away from this place.”

“Do you know the way to C- Cardonaccum, Do’saka?” I asked as the cat-man sprang upright. I accepted his proffered hands and rose to my feet.

“This one has spent the winterr learrning the countrry,” he purred in satisfaction. “The way to the big castle is well known.”

“The winter!” I exclaimed. “But I heard no r- reports of K- Khajiit in the area!”

His formidable teeth showed in a feral grin. “This one knows how to live in the shadow.” He reached down and pulled Servius into a seated position. The legionary groaned, and his eyes fluttered awake. “Can the man stand up?” Do’saka asked, tugging on Servius’s left arm.

His right arm as useless as mine, Servius managed to stand with Do’saka’s support. He wavered, his left arm over Do’saka’s shoulders, his head hanging down, his breath wheezing hard and fast between clenched teeth.

“Therre is a place to stay the night, to rrest,” Do’saka said to us. “Neitherr the Lady norr herr champion will make it to the big castle tonight. This one has found a safe place to keep warrm and drry. Follow Do’saka.”

Posted by: Acadian Dec 17 2013, 01:14 AM

I thought Servius was a goner once the kicking started and Broc’s minion started carting Lady Sack-o-Grain away.

Cora’s prayer worked! You did a great job letting that gradually dawn on us. In retrospect, it is clear that the imminent disturbance telegraphed warnings to the horse before things really began to manifest. Critters are neat the way they sometimes. . . just know stuff.

And Do’saka the Khajiit to the rescue. Whew, what a relief to see Servius recovering. Cora’s manner of healing gives whole new meaning to ‘hug the ground’!

Posted by: SubRosa Dec 18 2013, 08:34 PM

The attempted escape went no better than I expected. At least until Cora dispensed with her prayers to the Nine and got down with her Witchy roots. Her ability to feel the horse's pain from the bit in its mouth was the first hint that her prayers to the (Nirn?) goddess were answered. It may have cost her a few broken ribs, but that is certainly far better than Broc's man fared!

But I knew her will was implacable.
Speaking as a Witch I found this to be very apt. The sort of Earth Deity you are describing is indeed as relentless as you describe. She gives birth to all life, and she takes it all back in the end. Because nature is voracious, all-consuming. I have always liked these kinds of deities, because they symbolize not only the natural world's power to both create and destroy, but also humanity's ability to do the same.

This one is Do’saka
Now I see what you meant about the name! Thank goodness for that one making an appearance.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Dec 22 2013, 07:43 PM

@Acadian: As I am telling this story from Lady Cora's POV, and she is a mere mortal Breton, I figured it was logical that the realization of the Nirnquake will dawn on the readers at the same time and in the same way it dawns on our intrepid Lady. And yes, the horse knew the Nirnquake was coming before the two-legged ones did.

@SageRose: I am departing from the Lore a bit in this exploration of religion. As I see it, there are many layers of religion in High Rock -- ranging from the ancient, near-forgotten worship of the fundamental elements such as the Nirn Goddess, to the self-deification of the High Elves, to the worship of the Divines now prevalent among the mortals. We will see more theological bits as we go along, but for now, let us accept that there is something more fundamental and ultimately more powerful than the Eight Divines led by Akatosh. You are right in that the Goddess is implacable, and that mere prayers can't really change the course of events. I knew you would like seeing my own Do'saka. Perhaps he and Doh'sakar are cousins?

@all: As we enter the official Northern Hemisphere winter, Julian, Lady Cora and I wish to take a moment and wish all of our readers a very merry Winter Solstice (Summer Solstice Down Under!) and happy Holidays! Not only do we celebrate the birth of Jesus, but also the turning of the year and the beginning of awakening and renewal inherent in the lengthening of the days now beginning.

The story so far: Lady Cora and Legion Healer Servius have been captured by outlaws in the pay of Sir Broc, but have now escaped thanks to a timely Nirnquake. A mysterious Khajiit has provided them with first aid and shelter. Now they make their painful way back to Cardonaccum.

*******************
Chapter Twenty-six

“This is as farr as this one goes,” Do’saka stopped. Servius and I glanced at him, the wind bringing tears to our eyes.

“You are welcome in C- Cardonaccum, Do’saka,” I protested. “No one will harm you.”

He shook his head. “This one has orrders,” he hissed softly. “Stay invisible.”

“Orders?” I repeated. “From whom?”

Do’saka bowed elegantly. “From one who holds the Lady’s safety close to one’s hearrt.”

I reached out with my good arm and touched his elbow. “And who is that?”

He only smiled, and tossed something into the air. Invisible flakes showered around him, obscuring his form, until even that feral grin disappeared. “That is not forr this one to say,” his disembodied voice drew away from us. I saw the shaggy heather parting from his passage, tracing a curving line toward the rising sun.

“Come on,” Servius said to me. He was somewhat stronger today, though I still didn’t like his breathing. However, his healing progressed faster than mine.

Last night Do’saka had brought us to a small cave high in the foothills south of the outlaw camp. He had cleaned and bound Servius’s wounds, and found more healing plants to give the legionary every possible advantage in his recovery. The blood loss had ceased, and by morning his arrow wounds showed signs of advanced healing. However, the talented Khajiit was unable to provide me much relief from the constant pain in my shoulder and ribs.

“This one is sorrry he can not help the Lady,” his purr drifted over my shoulder. He sat behind me, examining the arrow wound in my shoulder. “The arrrowhead is deeply embedded, and much of the surrrounding tissue is torrn. Yet the wound is alrready closing over the steel. It is beyond this one’s meagerr skills to rremove.”

Gently his hands sponged away the dried blood. In spite of his care, I gasped from the agony stirred up by his ministrations. “There is nothing you c- can do, Do’saka,” I murmured. “Unless you are a t- trained chirurgeon?”

“This one is not,” Do’saka’s purring accents held genuine regret. “This one knows the pain is grreat and wishes he could at least take some of it away.”

“You have been a t- tremendous help, Do’saka,” I gestured toward Servius, resting on the opposite side of the fire. “I want no more deaths for my s- sake.”

Do’saka’s hands fell away. I glanced over my shoulder at his green gaze. Though I had never met Khajiit before, I could read his expression, thanks to my experience with Cinnie, the moggy who slept on my sleeping furs. He possessed the same thoughtful look she had when debating whether to chase a mouse or remain curled up on the bed.

“This one knows therre are those who would betrray the Lady,” he said finally. “Though this one has no prroof of such conspirracies. The Lady must show no merrcy toward those who would betrray herr.”

“Let such people sh- show themselves to me,” I heard the obsidian edge in my voice. “I hold Thistlethorn for s- such purposes.”

Do’saka withdrew to crouch next to the fire, tossing the bloodied rags into its flames. As hissing smoke and steam wreathed his form in grey clouds, his emerald gaze met mine. “The Lady would do well to be prrepared to use the long knife on herr rreturn to the big castle.”

I considered his words with some alarm. “Do you know s- something I don’t?”

“Only that those who would betrray the Lady are alrready on the move tonight.” Do’saka ignored the glances Servius and I exchanged while he put another log on the fire. “Rrest tonight. This one will see to it that the Lady and herr champion will rreturn in time.”

“Well,” Servius’s voice brought me back to the chilly morning. “We’d best continue on,” he turned his face back southward. The high walls of Cardonaccum rose out of the moor ahead of us. To our left the stream burbled its way toward the wide moat of the castle, dry once more. Only the small postern gate relieved the sheer expanse of stone that comprised the bailey walls.

Though Servius’s condition was much improved, he still moved slowly. I was grateful for his careful pace, since any movement aggravated the pain in my shoulder and side. My right hand supported the broken ribs in my left side, while I cupped my right elbow in my left hand to ease some of the pressure from my torn shoulder. The vertigo I had suffered since striking my head on that tree had eased somewhat, but every now and then I would lurch against Servius’s side.

The sun stood several degrees higher by the time we reached the far bank of the moat. Here the stream had carved itself a deep bed. We stopped beside it and looked across the ditch toward the palisades atop the bailey walls. I could see thistlemen clustering above the postern gate, though they were too far away for me to recognize any of them.

“Do we simply walk across the moat here?” Servius asked uncertainly. Silently I nodded, filled with dread at the thought of clambering down then up the steep slopes. Snow still lay along the bottom, and the sides remained damp with dew and snowmelt.

The postern gate opened when we reached the bottom of the moat. I looked up to see six men sally forth. Four of them fanned out, their eyes scanning the moor behind us. Two slipped and slid their way down the near bank to meet us.

“Say nothing of the Khajiit,” Servius whispered to me as the two men approached. Startled, I glanced at him, but his eyes remained on the others.

It wasn’t Robert who led the little contingent, as I had expected, but Captain Enrick and Lieutenant Alorius. They stopped before us, trying and failing to hide the dismay in their expressions as they took in our injured condition.

“Lady,” Enrick spoke first. “We are glad to see you again! But what happened?”

“We were attacked by outlaws,” I answered, short of breath. “Mungo and R- Rory are dead. Both S- Servius and I have been injured - we spent the night h- hiding in a cave.”

“Where are those outlaws?” Titus showed less consternation than Enrick.

“I - I don’t know,” I shook my head. It was a mistake. I managed to catch Servius’s left arm when the vertigo threatened to subdue my balance. Enrick and Titus reached for me, but I flinched away.

Enrick turned to glance up at his men. “Tarn, go find Siné!” The one nearest the gate whirled and disappeared into the bailey. The captain stepped to my left side and touched my elbow hesitantly.

“Where is R- Robert?” I asked. “Why isn’t he here?” Dread moved through me at the grim glances between Enrick and Titus. I drew myself as straight as my broken ribs would allow. “T- tell me.”

“Sir Broc has called an Enclave,” Titus ignored Enrick’s quelling glare. “Sir Rodric and Dame Edine are also here. Sir Broc claims that you are too weak to defend Cardonaccum, Lady, and that he should take the Thistle Seat.”

I closed my eyes against the bats again swarming in my vision. He would never dare as long as Wallace is alive. But after Sir Laird and Onchu rebelled against Wallace’s wishes to support me, he now has the courage to unseat me? Wallace, what is the best way to answer this? General Talos’s words from last fall echoed in my memory. “If anyone challenges your right to hold the seat of Cardonaccum, my men will augment yours and defend your position.”

“If I may, Lady,” Titus interrupted my whirling thoughts, “I would like to remind you of the terms of your truce.”

“I was just th- thinking of that,” I replied, opening my eyes to meet his steady gaze. So tempting to let him step up. But if the Legion were to put down Broc’s rebellion, how would the folk of Cardonaccum see it? Would they see me as a mere puppet lord, in complete thrall to Talos and his Legions? “But I must d- deal with this on my own.” As he nodded his acquiescence, the answer emerged with sudden clarity. I turned to Enrick waiting at my left shoulder.

“Captain, please get five of your fastest t- troopers and have them ride to Northside Manor. I want them to find young T- Tywin and bring him here as quickly as possible. S- safely and respectfully, Enrick.”

“Yes, milady!” Enrick turned and ran up the near bank toward one of his men.

I turned to Servius. “I thank you for your assistance, sir,” I said to him. “Please let S- Siné tend your wounds and ensure your continuing r- recovery.”

“But I don’t think Captain Enrick sent for Siné on my behalf,” Servius protested weakly. I shook my head firmly at him.

“She lacks the power to h- help me,” I said quietly. “And Lieutenant Alorius needs you back on your feet as soon as possible. I need you back on your feet as quickly as possible, for what I am about to do may stir the h- hornets’ nest.”

“I will be happy to tend Servius,” Siné’s cool voice interrupted Servius’s protests. “But afterwards, you need to let me examine you, milady.” Without waiting for a response from me, she stepped past Titus and took Servius’s left arm to coax him toward the postern gate.

“And I, Lady?” Titus brought my attention back to him. “What can my century do for you?”

“Two things,” I replied. “First, h- help me up this hill. I’m not certain I can manage by myself.”

“Of course,” Titus moved to my left side and offered me his arm. Gratefully I accepted his support and moved after Servius.

The near bank was more of a struggle for me than it was for Servius, but we made it safely up the slope without too much loss of dignity. As Titus and I drew near the open postern gate, I stopped and turned to him.

“And the second th- thing is, if you would please s- send a squad of your men to the outlaw camp and see if they c- can recover the body of Broc’s man.”

Titus called up one of the nearby legionaries waiting beside the postern gate. I recognized the senior pilus, Quintius Fannius. “Tell him where to go, Lady.”

Quintius listened intently as I described the location of the camp and the condition of the Northsider’s body. When he repeated everything back to me, I found myself impressed by his attention to detail. He glanced once at Titus, then turned and disappeared through the gate.

Titus met my gaze. “General Talos warned me that you may not want to be seen as leaning on the Legion for your support. So I will rely on your judgment concerning how our aid may best help you, Lady.”

“I shall c- count on you to support Robert and C- Captain Enrick,” I said. Again I fought for breath, in an attempt to calm my racing heart. But the pain of my broken ribs constricted my chest and gave me a claustrophobic feeling. The bat swarm returned with a vengeance. I managed to reach a stone mounting block and sit down before my vision was once again obscured.

“Milady!” Jannet’s voice hissed before me. I opened my eyes and looked up into her concerned face. “Just how badly are you hurt?”

“Never mind th- that,” I shook her away. “I just need to r- rest a minute.”

“You need to rest more than a minute!” Jannet scolded me. “Let’s get you to bed, milady!”

“No!” Somehow I managed to put the edge of command into my voice. “I must c- confront Sir Broc first!” I met her gaze with all the will I could muster. “I can not rest in peace so long as h- he is agitating for my seat.”

“Milady!” Jannet’s tone turned despairing.

“Get me some of Machara’s strong t- tea,” I whispered. “Bergamot. Now.”

Jannet gave me one last desperate look, then gathered her skirts and disappeared as fast as her old legs could run. I closed my eyes and fought to still the pain. Beneath my feet Nirn pressed against my soles, cold and wet with snowmelt. I welcomed the sensation, for it numbed my agony somewhat. My fingers twitched in an innate desire to bury themselves in the mud. I resisted it, and instead dug my toes deeper.

The slow surge that I recognized as the energy of Nirn thrummed up my shins. My heartbeat soon followed its pace, and the constriction around my chest eased a little. Each slow, careful breath pushed the limits of the pain an infinitesimal bit.

After several such breaths, I heard Jannet’s panting return. She handed me a cup full of steaming brown liquid. I inhaled the fragrant steam gratefully, then drank the tea down in a single draught. The strong taste beat back the bat swarm, and I felt strong enough to stand once more. My right arm moved a little of its own volition, but could not take the weight of my body as I pushed myself up from the mounting block.

Jannet reached for my right hand, but Titus stopped her with an outstretched arm. “Wait, ma’am,” he said to her. “Lady Cora hurts everywhere.” He nodded at me. “Best let her decide whether or not to lean on you.”

Jannet rounded on him, her arms akimbo. “In case you haven’t noticed, Mister Legion, milady is not in the habit of asking for help, even when she needs it!”

“I’ve noticed,” Titus’s quiet tone was dry, and I glanced sharply at him. “I’ve also noticed that milady will accept help that is offered if she so chooses.”

“Enough, you t- two,” I muttered. I waved Jannet to my left side. “Come here, let me have your arm, Jannet.” I turned my gaze away from Titus’s slight smile as we made our way through the stable yards toward the front of the donjon.

Posted by: Grits Dec 23 2013, 01:18 AM

Do’saka disappeared grin-last, like the Cheshire cat! His appearance after the dramatic Nirnquake was just captivating. I loved his confident and mysterious air.

The slow surge that I recognized as the energy of Nirn thrummed up my shins. My heartbeat soon followed its pace, and the constriction around my chest eased a little. Each slow, careful breath pushed the limits of the pain an infinitesimal bit.

This was the highlight for me in a marvelous chapter.

I was a little worried about who would come out the postern gate, guessing that Sir Broc was moving forward with his plan. Then Lady Cora made one of her own before they made it through the stable yard! No, Lord Wallace did not choose her just for her sewing. Titus and Jannet jockeying for position made me smile.

Posted by: SubRosa Dec 23 2013, 02:11 AM

“And who is that?”
I wonder now too. General Talos perhaps? But if so, why the mystery? Or does Lady Cora have a secret admirer?

Like Grits, I too appreciated the Cheshire Cat-like grin at the end of Do'Sakha's disappearing act. I also liked your invention of the 'vanishing dust' that he used. It is more interesting than simply drinking a potion.

I am going to guess that Sir Robert might be out looking for Lady Cora, and that is why he was not the first man out the postern gate? I see Lt. Alorius there. That is a good thing. The irony of him being an Imperial is that being an outsider, he is completely free of High Rock politics, and thus someone Cora can trust. Oh now I see Broc is inside stirring up trouble. I bet Robert is not letting that naga in the grass out of his sight.

Would they see me as a mere puppet lord, in complete thrall to Talos and his Legions?
This is what I was thinking too.

for what I am about to do may stir the h- hornets’ nest.
Of that I have no doubt. Now that Sir Broc has thrown the dice and come up dragoneyes, I get the feeling he is not long for this world.

Posted by: Acadian Dec 23 2013, 08:00 PM

A Merry Christmas to you and warm wishes for a Joyous Saturalia and New Year!

As has been mentioned, a purrrfectly fantastical departure by Do’saka. And quite the mysterious one! I too, am wondering under whose orders the Khajiit is conducting his fairy godcat operations.

So Broc is making his move. Off with his head! Seriously, between her physical condition and concerns about being a Legion puppet, she has a bit of a complicated pickle to deal with. I see she is going for physical proof of Broc's treason.

‘Titus met my gaze. “General Talos warned me that you may not want to be seen as leaning on the Legion for your support. So I will rely on your judgment concerning how our aid may best help you, Lady.” - - I love this guy.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Mister. Legion, milady is not in the habit of asking for help, even when she needs it!” - - This made me smile for its simple truth. Is the period after Mister an oversight? Heh, I can see myself drafting Mr. Legion, then deciding to spell out the title while overlooking the period.

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Dec 27 2013, 06:02 PM

Interesting few chapters here, and I enjoyed them a great deal, especially Do'Sakha; he was an interesting character, and I suspect his presence may be something to do with a certain general.

It was quite a cool idea to have Cora call on what I take was Padomay itself when making her way out of there, bypassing the middlegods of the Nine to go right to the core/source of their power. Nice angle on the established lore.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Dec 29 2013, 06:37 PM

@Grits: You did guess right indeed - Broc was moving forward with his plan. As of yet he did not know that the attempt to kidnap Lady Cora has failed. I'm glad you liked Do'saka. His Cheshire Cat disappearance came naturally, and it did not occur to me until the second or third read-through after writing that passage how much like the infamous Wonderland feline Do'saka was.

@SubRosa: That vanishing dust was actually the spell he used to disappear. I spent a fair amount of time wondering how casting an Invisibility spell would appear to an onlooker, and that is how I figured to describe it. As for who is Do'saka's boss, we will have to wait and see.

@Acadian: Oh, Do'saka will be a relatively easy mystery to unravel. But there is another, deeper one that has not yet begun to reveal its existence. We will see as the story unfolds. Off with Broc's head, huh? You are not the only one to think that! Thanks so much for catching that nit!

@Colonel Mustard: I enjoyed writing Do'saka too. He has his own entire backstory, I do not yet know if it will be revealed later in the story.

The story so far: Lady Cora and Legion Healer Servius have returned to Cardonaccum after their ordeal. However Lady Cora does not have time to rest--she has to address the issue of Sir Broc first.

*******************
Chapter Twenty-seven

Agony accompanied each step up to the doors of the donjon. I fought for breath every footfall of the way. Only Jannet’s silent concern and the fate of Cardonaccum awaiting me within kept me from collapsing after the first few risers.

Finally we reached the top of the steps, and I leaned hard on the old woman, fighting off the bat swarm that threatened to obscure my vision. Abruptly the darkness coalesced into a well-remembered face, shrouded by shadows. “Mother?” I whispered.

“Remember, child, what I have taught you about finding your strength.” Her familiar voice echoed unfamiliarly through my mind, and the bats fell apart, revealing an ancient stone plinth on a windswept moor, snow swirling around it. I gasped as I recalled the lesson she had taught me at the old menhir so many years ago.

“Milady?” Jannet’s voice brought me back to the present. I found myself leaning on the stone jamb of the double doors, as if drawing strength from the standing stone of my childhood. I straightened my spine and drew away from her. The old power of Nirn surged up through my soles like a slow heartbeat within the rough-hewn stones themselves.

The pain and agony still persisted, but they no longer dominated my consciousness. Instead the immense mass of energy that comprised Nirn cradled me as I stepped back to face the portal. How could I have forgotten? I met Titus’s bemused gaze and nodded at him. At a gesture, two of his legionaries swung the heavy wooden panels open.

Within, I found a mass of sky-blue surcoats on the main floor of the great hall. Several of the Northsiders nearest us turned to glance back at the open doors. Over their heads I could see Rodric, fists clenched, standing beside Robert, both men facing an insouciant Broc. Edine stood between the younger knight and the two older men, her right hand braced on Rodric’s left shoulder. Her stance was that of separating two fighting roosters.

“So he brought all of his men, did he?” I whispered in an aside to Titus.

“Aye, most of them,” Titus answered. “But Castellan Robert and Captain Enrick have put their men on full alert. As are mine.”

“Jannet, find Niall,” I rationed my breath carefully. “Go to the study.” The shorter sentences helped eliminate my stutter. “Bring me Thistlethorn.”

She regarded me warily. Titus touched her thin shoulder gently. “I’m with the Lady. Go on.”

By this time several of the blue-surcoated soldiers had recognized me and began whispering among themselves. Two of them began shouldering their way through the mass toward the confrontation before the Thistle Seat. Jannet, Niall, hurry!

Enrick slipped through the doors behind us and took his place at my right shoulder. Bracketed by two military commanders, I took a step forward. Somehow I managed to keep my spine straight against the twisting pain in my body. Just as the two Northsiders reached Broc, I stopped at the edge of the top step. The men whispered urgently into the young knight’s ear, pointing in my direction. His eyes moved from Rodric’s angry glare to meet mine across the hall. Even at that distance I could see the faint waver in his gaze, then he turned away from the older knight.

“Milady!” Heads turned toward me as his voice, dripping sugary concern, greeted me. “I am so glad you are - alive!”

Rodric stepped past Broc. “Milady!” His own gruff tone carried more honest feeling. “You’ve been hurt! Who did this to you?”

“That is the question,” I answered, stepping carefully down the stone stairs. “Who indeed?” With Titus and Enrick at my shoulders like dark wings, I moved forward into the gathered Northsiders who stood between me and the Thistle Seat. At first they stared at me, accustomed to cowing lesser folk with those hard eyes.

My own gaze met theirs squarely, and I lifted my chin. “Shall I remind you?” I said to the two burly men-at-arms nearest me. “Whose castle this is?” Their expressions faltered, and their eyes shifted slightly. “Mine? Or Sir Broc’s?”

“This castle belongs to the Lady Cora!” Robert stepped to the edge of the dais, his roar stirring the rafters high overhead. “Does anyone dare to deny it?” His sword whispered as he drew it, echoed by the Cardonaccum thistlemen posted around the large chamber.

The Northsiders shifted uneasily, their hands wavering tensely over their hilts. Blades reached slowly toward them on either side of me, held by Titus and Enrick. They stepped up so that the bulk of their bodies sheltered me from any attack in front.

“There will be blood today,” I made my voice hard and pitched to carry. “Question is, whose shall it be?”

“Milady,” a quiet voice sounded behind me. “Thistlethorn.” My eyes still straight forward, I reached back with my left hand. Niall recognized my signal and set the leather-wrapped hilt of Wallace’s weapon firmly into my palm. The metal sang softly as I drew it from its sheath, still gripped by my loyal steward. Carefully I rested the tip of the long blade on the stones at my feet, its pommel before my chin.

“Shall I begin,” I addressed the uneasy Northsiders, “using this now?” Mutterings passed from man to man, and a passage opened before me. “Thank you, gentlemen,” I lifted the greatsword from the floor to float before me, its blade nearly horizontal. The wound in my right shoulder screamed as I set my right hand above the left on the grip to help steady it.

Fortunately for me, the traditional weapon of Cardonaccum’s lords was well-crafted, the long hilt and heavy pommel offsetting the weight of the mighty blade. Still, it took considerable effort to keep the blade steady before me as I walked through the parting mass of blue toward the dais and the Thistle Seat. The image of the menhir kept the swarming bats at bay and gave me the strength I needed to keep my injured self as straight as the blade I carried. I knew the blood and mud on my face, my dress and tattered cloak, betrayed the trauma I had suffered through yesterday. Yet I refused to let Broc and his people see just how much pain tore through me with each step.

Think I’m weak, eh? Still think so? My father’s sole legacy stirred within me and surged up my throat like boiling acid. His black rage, the rage that had destroyed my mother, that had cast me out onto the careless mercy of my uncle, propelled my bare feet across the stone floor of the hall.

I had fought for years to kill that rage, that inheritance of my father’s. He had given me his worst quality, not his immense magicka. Terrified of the power of that rage to transform the father I had once loved, I had always suppressed even the slightest flicker of offense. But in this instant, I welcomed it. I needed it, the energy it gave me. I knew it would cost me in the end. But I had had enough from this insolent knight who thought he could wheedle, cajole, seduce and even frighten me into giving in to him. Time to end this.

As I reached the dais, another of the blue-surcoated men leaped to Broc’s side, his hand on the hilt of his own greatsword. I turned to him and met his gaze. “Who are you?”

“This is Captain Sholto of my Guard,” Broc set a calming hand on the other’s right elbow. Sholto’s stance didn’t ease, and he continued to stare me down.

“Captain Sholto,” I returned that gaze coldly. “How many men under your command?”

“Eighty-seven,” the captain responded stiffly.

“And how many,” I paused to take a slow breath, “of your men are here today?” Sholto’s jaw clenched at the question, but he remained silent.

“We count eighty-two, milady,” Robert had now moved to stand beside the blue-coated captain, his own hand ready on his weapon.

“Step back, Robert,” I said. “There is no need for your weapon here.” I tipped my head at Sholto. “Seems to me,” I addressed his glare again, “you’re short a few? Where are they?” Again he did not answer. “I know for certain,” I continued, my voice still pitched to carry, “one of them,” now I smiled, though I felt no warmth toward this man, “never returned last night. Correct?”

The flicker in his gaze told me he had known of the outlaws’ plan to attack me. He’s not the sort of man to act on his own. Broc wouldn’t tolerate any ambition around him. “No need to answer that, C- Captain.” Thistlethorn wavered slightly in my hand. “But answer this-” the long blade grew steady again, “Do you serve Sir Broc,” I shrugged my right elbow toward the knight standing at the captain’s left shoulder, “because you feel he is the best man?” I paused as a flicker of bemusement crossed Sholto’s features. “Or because you are honoring your oath to the Knight of Northside?” He frowned at my question. “Think carefully,” I managed to keep my left arm from trembling from the weight of the greatsword. “Before you answer.”

The puzzled frown turned to a obstinate scowl. “I serve Sir Broc,” he growled at me. “Not some pipsqueak of a girl -“

Thistlethorn leaped faster than anyone could follow. Wallace’s family weapon dragged my left arm across my body as it swept to my right, upwards and out in a deadly arc. Sholto’s defiance ended in a gurgle as hot crimson sprayed across my face, my hair. Thistlethorn’s point stopped in the hollow of Broc’s throat as Sholto fell backwards off the dais. The spraying blood subsided to a bubbling foam, then a silent oozing across the stone tiles.

Shocked gasps and murmurs echoed around the hall as people backed away from Sholto’s corpse. On the dais, only Titus stepped to my side, his own gladius paralleling the long blade I held. I fought for my breath, as stunned as the others at the speed of my action. Gods! I never knew I had this in me! Slow as Nirn? Somehow I managed to keep Thistlethorn steady at Broc’s throat, a tiny red drop appearing beneath its keen tip.

Broc’s empty hands rose slowly as he stepped back. I matched him pace for pace, keeping Thistlethorn steady at his throat. His heel caught on the sturdy leg of the Thistle Seat behind him, and he fell clumsily into its hard embrace. I stopped short of slicing his throat, too. No. Not now. He has to declare himself against me as clearly as Sholto did. I need evidence. Then I shall execute him right and proper, before the eyes of all of Cardonaccum. I blinked, startled at my silent decision, as cold-hearted as anything my father did in his rages.

And his rage still burned, still carried me straight against the resurgence of the pain in my left side. But I knew it wouldn’t last much longer. “Enrick,” I grated between clenched teeth. “Arrest all of the Northside men.”

“Yes, milady!” Enrick recovered quickly. “Where shall we hold them?”

“Lock them in the guest barracks,” I described the quarters where the knights’ men had quartered last fall.

Robert stepped to fill his place as Enrick turned and stepped off the dais, shouting orders to his men. I stared at Broc’s face, barely aware of Rodric and Edine standing off to one side, as frozen in place as I felt. The young knight gaped up at me, his eyes wide in a pasty-white face. “Milady!” he gasped. “I - I have done you n- no harm!”

“We’ll see.” I said shortly, my own breaths coming hard with the effort of holding Thistlethorn steady. “Robert.”

“Yes, milady,” the big castellan echoed Enrick’s response.

I took a step back from the chair, still holding Thistlethorn toward Broc’s throat. “Escort Sir Broc to his guest quarters.” I gulped for air. “Make him c- comfortable - in the salt cellar.” I stepped back again to give Robert room. He called up some of the castle thistlemen and hauled the younger man out of the chair. As Sir Broc was roughly manhandled away, shouting protestations over his shoulder, the rage left me as suddenly as it had surged.

I nearly dropped the blade when the pain twisted me to my left. I managed to keep hold of the hilt as the tip sparked against the stone floor and leaned my elbows on its wide cross guards. Thistlethorn wavered under this unaccustomed use, then steadied when Titus grasped the pommel in his left hand. With his gladius he waved the others back and turned to block them from my vision. “Lady Cora?” He bent down to whisper into my ear. “Tell me what you need.”

“C- courage,” I gasped. “To finish this.”

“You already have it, Lady,” his voice assured me. “What else?”

“Your arm, Lieutenant,” I managed to spit the words.

“Here,” Titus offered me his shield arm. I straightened up with an effort and looked around at the frightened faces around me. My hand through the Legion officer’s elbow, I met the others’ gazes.

“Robert,” I met his concerned gaze. “T- take this,” I stretched my left arm, tipping the pommel of Thistlethorn toward him. “To the study.” Again I looked around at everyone. “Niall, I sh- shall need -“ I gasped as bats swarmed between me and his lean visage. “- wine in th- the study.” My head spun when I tried to shake the bats away. “Sir Rodric, Dame Edine, R- Robert,” I swallowed moisture back into my mouth. “Let’s go there.” Now I met Titus’s gaze. Though his face remained impassive, I could see the dark flicker in his gaze. “Lieutenant, if I c- could have your man Servius meet us th- there as soon as h- he is able.”

Posted by: Acadian Dec 30 2013, 04:10 PM

Damn. Broc yet lives. Hopefully, Lady Cora will soon remedy that.

She had a lot going on inside her during this captivating showdown. Once again, we see the power of Nirn herself rising through the stones to aid Cora. I just wish she could coax a bit more healing power from the ground beneath her.

Posted by: SubRosa Jan 1 2014, 03:14 AM

It nice to see Cora remembering the lessons of her childhood, and reconnecting with her Witch self.

I like how Broc's men are Northsiders. It has both a nice ring to it, and it also clearly differentiates them from the rest of the Thistlemen.

I have to confess that whenever I see Jannet's name, I keep thinking of http://youtu.be/MsIID8xP3H8

Sholto’s defiance ended in a gurgle as hot crimson sprayed across my face, my hair.
W00T! Lady Cora has stepped up to the plate!

That entire scene was riveting. On one hand we knew the pain of Cora's injuries, that threatened to overwhelm her, and on the other her righteous fury driving her onward. She really shows her quality here, standing on her own as the ruler of Cardonaccum.

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Jan 1 2014, 09:17 PM

And it looks like Cora's ready to come down on top of Broc like a ton of bricks as soon as he makes a false move. Good thing, too; didn't think she should have ever kept that misogynistic little arsewipe around.

I found some of the stuff you were doing with Cora's dialogue when she was passing judgement on Broc and his cronies really interesting; the way her stammer abated when she was in proper full-on angry mode, and when she gets Broc locked up how he starts stammering when she's not doing it at that time. Interesting touch, and a great way to show just how angry she is.

I really liked this segment; a really good, poetic description of one of the effects of extreme fatigue.

Posted by: ghastley Jan 1 2014, 11:38 PM

I liked the implication that Thistlethorn is doing some of its work itself.

Thistlethorn leaped faster than anyone could follow. Wallace’s family weapon dragged my left arm across my body as it swept to my right, upwards and out in a deadly arc.

Any relation to Umbra? Is Umbra its evil twin?

Posted by: Grits Jan 2 2014, 05:31 PM

I’m intrigued by the way Lady Cora’s rage seemed to feed Thistlethorn, and her thoughts about the blade made it sound to me like an entity more than an object. What a showdown!

“There will be blood today,” I made my voice hard and pitched to carry. “Question is, whose shall it be?”

That’s a line that will stick with me. What a captivating scene!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jan 5 2014, 07:09 PM

@Acadian: I'm sure Lady Cora wishes the healing powers of Nirn would work just a little faster, too!

@SubRosa: I've always written strong, self-reliant, confident women like a certain Redguard pilus. Lady Cora was a bit of a departure for me, as her strength comes not from her physical abilities but rather from sheer willpower. So it was a relief for me to finally show that she, too, can be physical when the situation calls for it. It was a delight for me to show her strength in this installment. It's funny that you should point out the Northsiders. I kept thinking of the traditional crosstown rivalry that takes place in Chicago every spring (Cubs vs. Sox). As Cubs fans, my family are strict Northsiders. I suppose I'm the lone non-fan in this situation - I couldn't care less!

@Colonel Mustard: So you noticed what happened with her stutter? I'm glad someone pointed it out. I have spent considerable time monitoring that stutter and making sure it reflects her emotional state. Yes, we have seen it disappear before, when she was angry at Broc and Laird for leaving Wallace's horse and gear behind for Talos to claim.

@ghastley: No, Thistlethorn is not magical at all. It is merely a well-crafted weapon. What you are referring to is actually Nirn giving Lady Cora the physical strength she needs to wield it so effectively.

@Grits: Thistlethorn means much to Lady Cora. It is the symbol of Wallace's rule as Lord of Cardonaccum, and her grief and memories of him still imbue the weapon with his spirit. We will see just how much so in upcoming chapters. I do hope you will feel better, and that the MRI will finally give you the answers to your spinal woes!

The story so far: Lady Cora has returned to Cardonaccum to find Broc in the midst of an attempted coup. She has nipped it in the bud and arrested him and his men. Now it is time to decide on the next step.

******************
Chapter Twenty-eight

I sat down carefully in the high-backed chair behind the desk. The toasty cushion felt good on my bottom. Out of the corner of one eye I spotted Cinnie's striped tail as she disappeared behind one of the bookcases behind me. Thank you for warming my seat for me, I thought silently at her. Wonder how Do'saka is doing?

Niall appeared with the silver flagon as I settled back, mindful of the arrowhead still buried against my shoulder blade. Leaning my left elbow on the carved arm of the chair gave my broken ribs some relief, but it still hurt to breathe.

Silently Niall filled the pewter goblet I favored with the wine and brought it to me. I recognized the question in his eyes and nodded silently. He carried the flagon to the sideboard and began filling several of the goblets sitting there.

Titus and Enrick refused the proffered wine, but Robert, Rodric and Edine accepted the cups. Edine seated herself in one of the two chairs beside the fire. After a moment's consideration, Rodric did the same. The fighting men remained standing.

"If you were trying to make the point that you are indeed strong enough to lead Cardonaccum," the big knight began, slowly twirling the wine in his goblet, "there was no need for that demonstration. Not with us."

"It wasn't for your benefit, S- Sir Rodric," I drank deeply of the wine. "Th- those men in blue do not know me as you do, or even as Dame Edine does." I tipped my head toward the older woman, and received a slight nod of agreement from her.

"Do you hope to convince them to choose you over Sir Broc?" she asked softly. "As you did with Laird's men?"

"I c- convinced them of nothing," I replied. "Only asked them th- their motive for following Sir Laird.”

"I remember," Edine nodded again. "You asked them if they followed my husband because they felt he was right, or because they were sworn to."

"And they were happy enough to t- transfer their fealty to you, Dame Edine." I held her steady gaze as she sipped her wine. "Most of th- them in any case. I hope for a s- similar result with Sir Broc's men."

"So you will depose Sir Broc?" Rodric pounced, though his big frame remained motionless in his seat.

"Depose h- him?" I could hear the irony in my voice. "After he just made a blatant attempt t- to depose me?" Rodric nodded to himself as if I had just confirmed something in his mind. "I think it's t- time for young Tywin to take over that manor. I will need to s- send a trustworthy man to mentor him, as he is still so young." Only nine years old. Fifteen years younger than Sir Broc. But hopefully without the vain ambition and arrogance of his older brother.

"Do you have someone in mind?" Rodric drank half of his wine.

Before I could answer, Servius entered the room, Siné in tow. As the legionary paused in the doorway, Siné slipped past him and moved to my side. I waved her away. "Later."

"I'll give you a few minutes, milady," Siné's voice held firm command. "But your wounds need tending."

I ignored her admonition and eyed Servius. He had changed to clean clothes, and his complexion no longer possessed the paleness that had so scared me last night. His posture was straighter, no longer hunched by pain. He caught my gaze and bowed slightly to me in respect. I pointed him toward the window seat. After a moment’s pause, he made his way over to the indicated place.

“Servius, h- how do you feel now?” I asked the Legion healer when he had settled himself against the tall panes.

“Much better, thanks to the excellent ministrations of Siné,” he nodded in her direction. “And I wish you would let her see your own injuries, Lady.” He refused Niall’s offer of wine with grace.

“Jannet, Niall, Siné,” I said as the three castle folk moved to the door. “You need to s- stay, too.” I turned back to Servius. “You are in much better s-shape than I am. Please tell th- these good people of our adventures.”

The Legion healer threw me a startled look, then drew a deep breath. His gaze moved to Titus, his commanding officer, and he moved to rise to his feet.

“No, stay there,” Titus shook his head. “The Lord commands it.”

After a moment’s pause, Servius began his - our - tale. As I listened, I realized that he had adopted the manner of an officer reporting to his superior. His words were brisk, neutral, and professional. Of course, he is giving a report to his superior - Titus. The rest of us don't matter. But I had to reconsider my assessment of our importance to the man when he faltered in his description of the rough handling I had received at the hands of the outlaw leader. Somehow I managed to keep my face impassive as everyone except Titus glanced at me.

Finally Servius finished, his voice showing the exhaustion from the past twenty-four hours. He slumped back, his eyes on the floor. Edine sipped thoughtfully at her goblet, while Rodric drained the last of his wine. Niall topped their cups and met my gaze. At my nod, he moved to the desk and refilled my own receptacle as well.

Siné broke the silence first. “Servius,” she said quietly, “does milady still have that arrowhead in her shoulder?”

He nodded, his lips drawn tight. Siné turned back to me. “It has to be removed,” she continued. “It will only cause pain if it stays.”

“I do not have t- time for that now,” I tossed back the wine, desperately seeking to numb the pain with its effects. “There is much that needs t- to be done before I can rest.” I gestured with the goblet toward Thistlethorn, its blade wiped clean, now resting on my desk. “That blade will s-see more use before I am finished.”

Edine set her goblet down carefully on the small table beside her. “Do you mean to see more people executed with it, milady?”

“If I must,” I answered. “Sir Broc claims I am t- too weak to hold this seat. He has s- sown doubt in the minds of many. Many of you c- consider me kind and merciful, which is well and good in times of peace.” I drew breath against the stabbing pain in my side and curled my toes against the cold stone floor. Again I felt the power of Nirn surge through me, and the pain eased an infinitesimal bit more.

Edine and Rodric exchanged glances, but remained silent. The fighting men - Robert, Enrick, and Titus, stood still, their eyes unwavering on me. Siné stood quietly at my shoulder, a comforting presence. Jannet and Niall watched me from the shadows across the room, their expressions unreadable. Servius lifted his gaze to meet mine, and gave me a small smile of encouragement.

“But we are not at peace,” I continued. “Wallace h- has been betrayed in his grave by his own people, people whom he t- trusted deeply.” I set the goblet on the desk beside the hilt of Wallace’s family weapon. “Betrayal has cost C- Cardonaccum two knights and a priest. We h- have lost fighting men because of it. Women and children are being forced to t- take on responsibilities they are better off without.” I met Edine’s gaze, and she closed her eyes. “Especially the children.” She nodded in silent agreement.

“It is for th- that reason I executed Sir Broc’s right hand man in front of everyone,” I drew breath against that persistent pain. “I must make it c- clear - beyond a doubt - that I am strong enough to hold this seat!” Now I met the eyes of each person present. “Each of you,” I took my time working around the room, “is a person I t- trust. But if one of you were t- to betray me,” somehow I managed to harden my voice against the agony in my ribs and shoulder, “be c- certain that you will pay the price as well!”

Only Titus remained silent in the eruption of assurances that followed. As I listened to each earnest vow of loyalty, I met his unwavering gaze. It is as it should be. He is loyal to General Talos first and foremost. As far as I can trust the General, I can trust Titus. But just how far is that? As long as I am of value to the General, he would not betray me, and thus Titus wouldn’t betray me without betraying Talos.

“As I h- have already said,” my quiet voice stilled the hubbub, “I have s- sent for young Tywin. It is my intention to knight him, then place a more experienced man at h- his side to help him manage his new r- responsibilities.” I turned to Edine. “Do you feel that your son T- Tevan is ready to take over, or do you wish him to h- have more time?”

Edine sighed. “I’m certain you recall that he is much like his father - hot-headed and opinionated at times.” She paused, her eyes thoughtful. “Yet I feel he is now loyal to you, and will take his place at your side. Still, I’d prefer to see him married off to a sensible girl who can keep him in check. The manor does not need another firebrand, nor do you, milady.”

“True,” I nodded my agreement. “Then I will c- concede to your judgment.” I stifled a sigh. “If I meet a s- sensible young woman, I will be certain to s- send her to you, Dame Edine.” Now I turned to Rodric.

“Sir Rodric.” He drew himself up in the chair, his chest puffing out. “I thank you for your unwavering s- support these last few months.”

The older man harrumphed in overt modesty. Then he grew somber. “I have t’admit,” he murmured. “When Lord Wallace passed, I supported you in order to honor our lord’s memory. But over time, you’ve shown yourself to be quite capable in your own right.” His full mustache curved over his grin. “Now I support the Lord of Cardonaccum, not the Lord’s widow!” Now he gave me a sly glance. “But I suppose you’d want to replace me with younger blood, no?”

I found myself smiling back at him. “Only th- the fighting man you were,” I answered. “But you r- remain my knight, in charge of Three Rowans Manor.” I sighed. “If only for your expertise in estate management. I may c- continue to seek your advice.”

“If there is any way I can assist milady,” Rodric lifted his empty goblet in salute, “you have but to ask!”

“I regret that Sir Broc has c- called both of you all the way here for his overreaching ambition,” I continued. “But now that you are here, I ask th- that you stay a little while longer, until I decide what t- to do with him, and have T- Tywin knighted in his stead.” Both knight and widow nodded their acquiescence.

A clattering of steel in the corridor alerted us to the approach of another person. I fought the urge to reach for Thistlethorn as Robert, Titus, and Enrick laid their hands on their sword hilts and turned for the doorway.

One of the castle thistlemen dashed into the room, his face pale. “Milady, Lieutenant,” he saluted me and Titus in turn. “Your men have returned from the outlaw camp. They have the body of the traitor.”

“Good,” I moved to rise, but Siné clamped her hand onto my left shoulder, firmly pressing me back down. “I need to see him, sh- show him to Sir Rodric and Edine. Perhaps one of us knows h- his face.”

“I know him,” the thistleman shook his head. “One of Broc’s most trusted men - Fingal.”

“Fingal?” Sir Rodric rose to his feet. “I know him, too.” He turned to me with a bow. “Stay here and rest, milady, I will go see for myself.” He left the room, trailed by Edine and the fighting men. Servius turned to me and considered me a moment longer.

“If he is indeed Broc’s man, what does that mean for you, Lady?”

“It means I now h- have the grounds I need to exile S- Sir Broc from Northside.” I nodded toward the doorway. “And it will make it easier for Sir R- Rodric and Edine to support my decision.”

Posted by: Acadian Jan 6 2014, 04:01 PM

Loved the kitty seat warmer!

So much for Lady Cora to sort through. At least she now has some blue-clad proof of the extent of Broc’s treachery that all can see. Good move to have Servius relay the tale of their captivity, and I’m glad he’s doing better.

Gee, what is Sine going to have to do? Sneak some 'keep her still long enough so I can remove that arrowhead’ drops into the stubborn Lady’s wine?

So is it to be exile for Broc instead of execution?


Nits?
"I c convinced them of nothing," I replied.’ - - Since it has been your convention to incorporate hyphens/dashes into Cora’s stuttering, this stood out as lacking that.

'The rest of us doesn’t matter.' - - Is the subject of this sentence singular (requiring ‘doesn’t’), or is it plural (requiring ‘don’t’)? Although my gut tells me to view it as plural (several individuals), perhaps you’ve chosen to view it as singular (a collective group as a single entity). Honestly, I’m not completely sure.

Posted by: ghastley Jan 6 2014, 04:44 PM

Let me see if my analysis holds: Cora can't execute Broc, as she doesn't (yet?) have the evidence that he personally ordered the events. She has enough evidence that he didn't prevent it, so she has a case for incompetence, and replacing him. He needs just a little more rope to hang himself.

Cinnie stars in her absence! (well, apart from her tail.)

I expect a constant now/not yet battle between Cora and Sine for a few chapters. Some third party needs to engineer sufficient delay for Sine to succeed. Drops in the wine would make Cora think she's on Broc's side!

Posted by: Grits Jan 6 2014, 05:29 PM

Siné broke the silence first. “Servius,” she said quietly, “does milady still have that arrowhead in her shoulder?”

It’s evidence! CSI: Cardonaccum. No, I think the dead Fingal makes more sense.

“It means I now h- have the grounds I need to exile S- Sir Broc from Northside.” I nodded toward the doorway. “And it will make it easier for Sir R- Rodric and Edine to support my decision.”

I particularly like the second part of Lady Cora’s remark. Though now I feel I should call her Lord Cora.

Exile for Sir Broc makes me wonder why Lady Cora wouldn’t keep him imprisoned. Or perhaps she will, and by ‘exile’ she means she has the grounds to replace him with his younger brother. Either way, I doubt he’s finished yet.

Posted by: SubRosa Jan 8 2014, 02:08 AM

Like the others, I adored Cinnie's helpful seatwarming, and the way one feline made Cora jump to thinking about another, large cousin.

I wonder if Twyin will work out as the new knight of the Northsiders. Not so much his competence, but how loyal he might be in the future, given that Lady Cora is going to get rid of his older brother? But we don't really know anything of his character, whether he is a chip off his brother's block, or a completely different kind of person. I am guessing that the older mentor Lady Cora has in mind for the lad, will not only have the job of figuring out which, but also of steering the lad down the better path.

Three Rowans Manor
Rowan Atkinson, Grit's character Rowan,... but who is the third Rowan?

And the dead evidence was just carried in. I wonder what exile means in High Rock? Is it just being sent away on pain of death to never return? Or is it exile in the Norse sense, where it made your life forfeit of anyone who wanted to take it (basically a death sentence, as anyone could murder you without it being a crime)?

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jan 12 2014, 08:44 PM

@Acadian: Kitty seat warmer indeed? How many times have I sat down on my dining room chair to discover that a cat is still warming it for me! At least Cinnie had the decency to vacate it for Lady Cora! Thanks for the nits: I had meant the rest of us in terms of this part of the group, i.e. singular, but your concerns are equally valid. After some consideration, I decided that it is more common to view us as a collection of individuals, much like we. So I will go back and fix it. And thanks for catching that missing stutter/dash! As for slipping a heavy-duty potion into the Lady's tea, it may not work, as she is so resistant to magicka.

@ghastley: Don't worry, ghastley. Our Sir Broc will have plenty of rope soon! And yes, there will be a battle of wills between Siné and Lady Cora, and yes, a third party will bring about a *ahem* rather surprising resolution. I will say no more.

@Grits: Lady Cora doesn't want to keep Sir Broc around, and so imprisonment is not an alternative for her. Do you know how much it costs to feed and shelter prisoners? As far as Lady Cora is concerned, imprisonment is a temporary situation, suitable for minor offenses such as theft or fraud. She is looking for something more permanent, and exile is the punishment of choice. For now.

@SubRosa: It would be a challenge for a nine-year-old boy, and a junior son at that, to take over a rather prosperous, good-sized manor. We will soon see what sort of person Tywin is. It's interesting that you should ask what exile means in High Rock. I was thinking more along the lines of "Get out of here and don't ever come back again, or I'll kill you." Perhaps I will use the Norse version later in the story, when we are dealing with exile from another location. Thanks for refreshing my memory about that one.

The story so far: Lady Cora, Lord of Cardonaccum, now has the grounds she needs to exile Sir Broc. Yet more evidence of his nefarious plotting will appear, however, and cause Lady Cora to reconsider her decision.

********************
Chapter Twenty-nine

“The flesh has already healed over that arrowhead.” Siné’s fingers were gentle on the shoulder wound, but I still gasped into the pillow from the agony that flared in response. “I will have to cut it out.”

“No time,” I panted. “Later.”

“Milady,” Siné remained patiently insistent. “It will only prolong your pain.”

I struggled to sit up on the bed, turning to face the chapel healer. “Siné,” I breathed against my broken ribs, “it’s going t- to hurt to cut it out. I’d r- rather wait until our guests are gone. I won’t be able to withstand th- the pain when you do remove it. And you know there are no potions or s- spells that can numb it for me. Not even wine.”

Siné’s gaze remained obstinate, but finally she sighed and nodded. “As soon as they’re gone, then,” her voice brooked no further argument.

“As s- soon as they’re gone,” I promised. Siné picked up a clean kirtle and eased my arms into the long sleeves, then settled it over my head and onto my shoulders. She repeated the same with my green cotehardie. Grateful for her help, I caught her hand as she moved away. “Th- thank you for understanding.”

She smiled and squeezed my hand in return. “You and Lord Wallace are the same,” she murmured. “You will not show your weakness to the folk who look to you for leadership. But it is difficult to see you in so much pain, milady.”

Jannet entered the bedroom, her lined face anxious. “Captain Enrick’s party returns,” she reported. “But they are not moving fast on the road.”

“It’s late,” I murmured, glancing out the window. Already the sky had turned dark, with only the faintest glow in the west trailing the sun. Beside me, Cinnie rose to her toes and stretched in an arch that echoed the shape of the window frame. I ran my hand from her ears to her tail, then stood. “Let’s go s- see why.”

“Best you stay here, milady,” Jannet protested. “Captain Padriac and Robert are watching from the walls.”

“No,” I shook my head. “I’ve a sudden urge to sink my t- toes into some cold mud.”

For once, Siné took my side. “I think that is a good idea, milady,” she held her hand out to stifle Jannet’s protest. “Though it’s not ladylike, it’s best for your recovery.”

Jannet subsided into irritated muttering. As I approached her and the doorway, I caught a sliver of her complaint - “- though what’s the point of a bath if she’s only going to get muddy again?” She closed her mouth with a snap when I paused before her. Her gaze met mine with an obstinate set to her pointed chin.

I leaned in and kissed her on her weathered cheek. “I’m s- sorry, Jannet, for not being as ladylike as you’d prefer. But I do appreciate everything you do for me.” She flushed at my affectionate display and ducked her head, speechless for once.

As I moved into the passage, I heard a soft thump on the wood floor behind me. I glanced back to see Cinnie ghost through the doorway after me. She ran ahead of me toward the stairs and disappeared.

Siné accompanied me to the great hall, then departed to see to her other patients. Jannet caught up to me in time to throw a warm cloak over my shoulders before the thistlemen opened the doors.

Outside the soft glow of Masser and Secunda kissed my face as I stepped down to the courtyard. I made my way to the herb garden near the kitchens and stepped among the young plants, just making their appearance after the long winter. Careful not to damage their tender shoots with my trailing skirts, I paused to dig my toes into the dirt between the rows.

Once again I felt the cold, slow power of Nirn well up into my feet. I shivered beneath the cloak, and winced again at the pain in my shoulder and side. Goddess, give me the strength I need to deal with Broc. I can’t have healing until this crisis is done.

Where were you, Arkay, Kyne, when I called on you? I wondered why I had sensed no response from the Divines that had guided my life these past twenty years. I have tried to be faithful to your teachings. Arkay, haven’t I always sought balance in all I do? And Kyne, have I not always celebrated the rain and the life it brings our harvests?

But I have no magicka of my own. Does that mean the Eight will never answer my prayers? Is that why I remain barren? Is that why my mother taught me about the Goddess? Because she knew the Eight would never protect me?

My thoughts returned to the nirnquake that had saved Servius and me. That was the Goddess. I felt Nirn’s power very strongly in that moment. Does that mean I should abandon my faith in the Eight? They seem to protect other mortals, I alone stand outside their protection. But the Goddess is older, much older than the Eight. Nirn is only her most recent manifestation, if I remember Mother’s teachings aright.

So then how should I live my life? How do I know what is right and what is wrong? Is there even a right and a wrong?

“Milady?” Calum’s voice interrupted my thoughts. He stood beside a seated Cinnie at the edge of the planting bed, his head bare in the cold night, her tail wrapped around her feet. “Castellan Robert sent me to let you know that Captain Enrick is on the drawbridge.” The groaning of the main gates beyond underscored his message.

“Th- thank you, Calum,” I picked my way out of the herb garden. He fell into step beside me as we headed for the front of the bailey. I felt something brush against my skirts and watched Cinnie dart ahead. She’s following me? Why?

All thoughts of the mystery wrapped in enigma personified by the moggy disappeared at the sight of the burdened pony trailing after Captain Enrick’s horse through the gates. Unable to take a deep breath, I drew my skirts higher and ran forward.

Captain Enrick halted his mount and swung off into a pool of torchlight from the walls. Shadows cast a grim set to his lips as he turned to face me. “Milady,” he bowed. “Robert,” he greeted the castellan as the big Nord joined us. “We bring grave news.” He nodded at the pony, being relieved of its burden by two thistlemen. “Young Tywin is dead.”

“Dead?” I repeated, my broken ribs stealing my voice. “H- how?”

“The manor’s steward told us it was a accident,” Enrick nodded toward the rear of the party, where soldiers surrounded two figures on horseback. “He was practicing swordplay with one of the men-at-arms when the blades slipped.” He shook his head. “Boy’s too young to be playing with sharpened blades, if you ask me.”

“Bring h- his body to the ch- chapel,” I spoke between agonized breaths. If Tywin is dead, who will manage Northside for Cardonaccum? “I must examine h- him.” I turned toward the two Northsiders. “Who are th- they?”

“Steward Mercutio,” Enrick motioned for the men to dismount. “The other is the younger brother of the man named by Mercutio.”

“The man who killed Tywin?” Robert rumbled. “Where is that one?”

“He was executed,” Enrick’s answer held grim disapproval. “But the brother tells a different tale.”

“Bring th- them to the h- hall,” I drew my cloak closer around myself and turned for the donjon. Behind them, I heard the steward grumbling threats at the younger boy until one of our thistlemen cuffed him into silence.

Gavin met us within the keep. I instructed him to fetch Rodric and Edine, then made my way to the Thistle Seat. The effort to keep my spine straight against the broken ribs in my left side left me struggling for breath as I sat down.

Siné appeared from the hallway leading to the infirmary in time to see Tywin’s body carried toward the chapel. Her gaze moved from the burdened thistlemen to me with a question. When I gave her a nod, she turned and followed after the men. Good, Siné will examine the boy. I’ll do the same. First I want to hear these men tell their tales.

Posted by: SubRosa Jan 12 2014, 09:14 PM

Lady Cora's green cotehardie makes me think of the http://www.fashionsintime.com/html/cotehardie.html. I just love Ren Faire clothes!

“I’ve a sudden urge to sink my t- toes into some cold mud.”
This sounds so strange. Or it would if it were anyone else. But from Cora, it sounds even better than chicken soup.

As someone who has changed their religious beliefs from what they were taught as a child to something radically different, I appreciated Cora's religious quandary. Have the Nine turned their backs upon her? Or is she just not seeing their influence in her life? The Nirn Goddess OTOH, seems like such an overt force in her life. Aela would tell Cora to follow her Bliss, wherever that took her.

I was noticing Cinnie's shadowy presence around Cora from the start. Now I see Cora herself has noticed it. I wonder if this presages another meeting with Do'Sakha? Hmmm, looks like not.

Mercutio? Was the man who accidentally killed Tywin named Tybalt I wonder?

My, this plot does thicken. There is just no rest for poor Cora. Like her, I wonder if young Tywin was truly slain by accident or if it was murder. A nobody man-at-arms is easy to blame, especially when he is conveniently killed himself immediately afterward. The latter really screams 'patsy' to me.

Posted by: Acadian Jan 13 2014, 05:39 PM

Cinnie’s actions clearly foreshadow significance, although her role is tantalizingly unclear at this point.

And now a suspicious death! This is feeling like a rich gothic murder mystery!

Ladylord Cora has so much going on, between her wounds, Broc, deaths and wrestling with questions about her own beliefs. I’ll hope no Daedric Princes emerge to further cloud the mud between her toes.

Posted by: ThatSkyrimGuy Jan 17 2014, 01:54 PM

Since I was away for five months, I have just read Chapter 6. I am now 23 chapters behind in this one, so I will be posting comments in The Big Commentasaurus Thread until I get caught up. After reading the chapter this morning, I don't think it will take very long because this is a real page turner!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jan 19 2014, 09:14 PM

@Sage Rose: As Lady Cora's grief over the loss of her beloved Lord Wallace subsides, other things emerge to preoccupy her mind. Beyond the day-to-day management of the holding, she is beginning to question things she has always taken for granted. She is now learning to look at things from different perspectives. The Eight (remember Talos is still very much a flesh-and-blood man at this point) is not immune to her questions.

@Acadian: Gothic murder mystery! I used to read those when I was in third grade! After the tenth or eleventh one, though, I began to get bored. I hope this is more interesting than the Victoria Holt stories I read so long ago! As for Cinnie, well, does she even have a role? Or is she just being a typical mysterious cat? I mean, who knows why cats do the things they do?

@TSG: Welcome back! You've been missed here in this remote corner of High Rock tucked between the Eltheric Ocean and the Wrothgarians. I do rather like SubRosa's suggestion of posting here and updating your comments until the next update. That is what Treydog has done sometimes.

The story so far: Sir Broc is facing a sentence of exile, only now Lady Cora has learned that Sir Broc's younger half-brother has died under rather suspicious circumstances.

***************
Chapter Thirty

Rodric and Edine appeared together just as the thistlemen brought Mercutio and the boy before the Thistle Seat. As soon as the two nobles took their seats, Captain Enrick gave us a brief summary of how he had discovered Tywin’s death.

“The body was still laid out in the manor chapel,” he finished. “I thought it best to bring it to you, Milady, for examination.” He nodded in the direction of our own place of worship. “Under the circumstances, and given the nature of the boy’s death.”

“Thank you, Captain,” I turned to Rodric and Edine, seated at my left. “Do you have any further questions for Captain Enrick?”

Rodric cleared his throat. “Did you bring any of the witnesses you spoke to?”

“Yes, sir,” Enrick nodded at the two Northsiders standing back from the firelight. “Steward Mercutio, and the younger brother of the man who was named as Tywin’s killer.”

Edine shook her head when Rodric and I glanced at her. “Let’s hear what they have to say.”

I nodded at Robert. “S- steward Mercutio, please.” The man glowered sullenly at me. So he is Broc’s loyal man. Let’s hear what tale he has to tell. “Please t- tell us what happened, Steward.”

The older man tossed his grey hair back defiantly and lifted his chin in unspoken challenge. “‘Tis simple, Witch -” The thistleman at his left shoulder slapped him on the back of the head, effectively cutting off the next words.

“You may h- have noticed,” I inhaled carefully, “th- that my men don’t like folk t- to speak t- to me disrespectfully.” I folded my hands in my lap and kept my spine painfully straight. “Ch- choose your words with c- care.”

Mercutio lifted his gaze to mine and spat blood onto the rushes. “As I said,” his tone held a little less insolence and a little more pain, “‘tis simple. The boy was practicing swordplay with one of our men-at-arms. Nevin slipped, and his blade pierced the boy’s chest. The young’un died between one breath and the next. Happened yesterday.”

“Nevin?” I repeated the name. “Was that the man-at-arms practicing with Tywin?” Mercutio nodded. “I thought swordplay was done with wooden swords?”

“Young master Tywin wanted to make it more - real,” Mercutio responded.

“Nonsense!” Rodric exploded. “Even among experienced men, swords are dulled, if not blunted outright! Can’t afford to slip and lose a finger, a limb or a life!”

I met Robert’s gaze. He nodded grimly. So this accident shouldn’t have happened. Was the boy set up? I wouldn’t put it past Broc to eliminate all potential threats from behind. He was never fond of Tywin.

“Th- thank you, Steward Mercutio,” I turned back to the Northsider in front of me. “Please make yourself c- comfortable in th- the accommodations we provide for you.” I nodded at the thistlemen. “Th- the dungeon, please.”

While the recalcitrant Northsider was hauled away, I waved the young boy up. As he moved uncertainly into the firelight from the hearth, I eyed him thoughtfully. “Who are you, young man?”

“Hamish, milady,” he bowed awkwardly, his bright red hair obscuring the freckles covering his nose and cheeks.

“How old are you, H- Hamish?” I kept my voice gentle, recognizing his skittishness.

“Fourteen, milady,” he answered, straightening up and meeting my gaze from beneath that fiery thatch. I could see the beginnings of a bruise forming across one cheek, and the traces of blood at the corner of his mouth.

“Who did that t- to you?” I brushed my fingers along my own cheek.

“Th’ steward, milady,” Hamish replied. “He was angry at me.”

“Why?”

“B’cause I tried to tell yon Captain -” he nodded at Enrick, “th’ truth.”

“The t- truth?” I repeated. “I’d like to h- hear it very much, Hamish.”

The boy’s blue eyes shifted from me to Enrick, then Robert. Enrick nodded curtly when Hamish’s gaze drifted back to him. “Milady doesn’t like being lied to, boy,” Enrick spoke gruffly. “Tell her like it is.”

Hamish took a deep breath and met my eyes. “Th’ young master nae liked swordplay, milady,” he said. “Preferred books and figures. But he would practice with wooden swords b’cause old Sir Duncan always said a knight should have a full eddication.”

I nodded encouragingly. I remembered the old knight well. Like Sir Rodric, he was kind enough to me when I first came to Cardonaccum. I had grown to appreciate his experience and wisdom before he died six years previously.

“Yester morn Sir Broc told Steward Mercutio to have Nevin - that’s m’ brother - use th’ longswords from th’ armory for th’ young master’s daily lesson.” Hamish swallowed audibly. I could see a telltale glimmer in his eyes and waited silently. “Nevin tried to tell him that th’ young master was nae ready for real swords, but th’ steward told him to shut up and follow Sir Broc’s order.” He looked down at the hearth between us and I knew he relived that moment in his memory.

“C- clearly,” I said after a moment’s silence, “your brother was a man of h- honor. We will not forget.”

Hamish looked up from the hearth, firelight obscuring the blue of his eyes. “Th- thank you, milady.” He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “Nevin was very careful yesterday. He dinna push th’ young master at all.” I felt my brows rise at the words. Nevin tried everything he could to avoid harm? “He even took a few blows from th’ young master - got cut on his right hand and arm.”

Again Hamish paused, obviously struggling with grief. He blinked liquid firelight out of his eyes and cleared his throat. “That’s when th’ steward took th’ sword from Nevin. He said ‘Train th’ boy properly! Don’t go easy on him!’ Then he struck at th’ young master and pushed him across th’ courtyard. Nevin tried to stop him but th’ steward would have nae of it.”

Now Hamish met my gaze. “You’ll nae believe me, milady, but I saw Steward Mercutio run th’ sword into th’ young master’s heart. Then he turned on m’brother and killed him on the spot. M’brother was unarmed!” The last held outrage at the memory.

“Why did S- Steward Mercutio not kill you t- too?” I asked gently.

Hamish shook his head. “B’cause he dinna ken I was there,” he answered. “I ran and hid as soon as I realized m’brother was dead.” His head drooped. “I should’ve have stayed, should’ve -”

“He would have k-killed you too, Hamish,” I stopped his self-recrimination. “Then we would never know the t- truth. Your brother would h- have died in vain.” I looked at Captain Enrick. “Did you see th- the guardsman’s body?”

Enrick nodded, his lips set in the hearth’s twilight. “Yes, milady. They tossed him outside the walls of the manor. He had a direct blow to the heart. Dagger was still in its sheath. Never had a chance.”

“We will s- see Nevin buried in the chapel yard, as is proper,” I turned to Edine and Rodric. “Do you h- have any questions for young H- Hamish?”

“Aye, I do,” Rodric’s voice held gruff gentleness. “Young Hamish, do you normally watch the practice sessions?”

“Nae, sir, I dinna,” Hamish shook his head. “But yester morn was strange. Sir Broc leaves with all of the men-at-arms except for Nevin and Aulay. Then th’ steward tells Nevin to use the sharp swords. Nevin told me something was up and to be careful.”

Such a shame. A good man wasted, young potential lost, and now a manor leaderless. Sir Broc cannot be allowed to live. “What is your function at Northside, H- Hamish?”

“I work in the kitchens, milady,” he answered. “Mostly with the meat.”

“You will need t- to stay here a wh- while,” I rose to my feet. “Until we decide what t- to do about Northside.” I glanced at Gavin. “Please s- see that Hamish is s- settled with Machara’s assistants.” My right hand sought the ache in my left side against the protest from my shoulder. “T- tell Machara Hamish will be c- called on to t- testify.”

As Hamish was escorted away by Gavin and one of the thistlemen, I turned to Rodric and Edine. “It grows late,” I stifled the sigh at the weariness I felt. “I must examine th- the boy’s body. I hate t- to ask this of you, but I must c- continue the Enclave and put Sir Broc on trial t- tomorrow morning.”

Rodric nodded. “If milady is agreeable, I would like to see Tywin for myself as well. I propose that we keep our conclusions to ourselves until tomorrow. Did I not see Siné go to the chapel earlier?”

“Yes.” I glanced at Edine, her face pale in the firelight. “She will t- tell us her own determinations in th- the morn. We will question S- Steward Mercutio and young Hamish again in S- Sir Broc’s presence.”

“Aye,” Rodric gruffed through his mustache. “And I have more questions of my own to ask that young upstart!”

“As do I,” Edine rose to her feet. “I will appreciate the time to prepare. If it is acceptable to Lord Cardonaccum, I would like to send my captain to evaluate the wounds on Tywin’s body. He has far more experience with combat injuries than I do. You remember him - Tomsen.”

I nodded. “H- he is more than welcome to t- take a look. I will have the th- thistlemen admit him.”

Posted by: SubRosa Jan 19 2014, 10:02 PM

It turns out Do'Sakhar and Do'Sakha were not the only ones in the litter, there is http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&showtopic=5321&view=findpost&p=207802 as well!

It looks like we are in for an episode of Murder, She Bled. I hope Lady Cora has the chance to take a break soon! It is too bad she doesn't have a nice old monk like Brother Cadfael handy for this...

"Even among experienced men, swords are dulled, if not blunted outright! Can’t afford to slip and lose a finger, a limb or a life!”
Indeed. Either someone ends up getting killed or maimed by accident, or you wind up teaching yourself to hold back and not hurt the people you are fighting.

Hamish? I wonder if his last name might be Macbeth? If so, I suspect he might grow up to the Northside's town constable...

So it looks like Broc was behind it all. Given his other machinations, it is not too surprising.

Posted by: Acadian Jan 20 2014, 05:53 PM

“You may h- have noticed,” I inhaled carefully, “th- that my men don’t like folk t- to speak t- to me disrespectfully.” I folded my hands in my lap and kept my spine painfully straight. “Ch- choose your words with c- care.” - - This was the epitome of ladylike self-defense. The truth behind her words is quite the testimony to her leadership. Cora has grown so much!

’Hamish took a deep breath and met my eyes. “Th’ young master nae liked swordplay, milady,” he said. “Preferred books and figures. But he would practice with wooden swords b’cause old Sir Duncan always said a knight should have a full eddication.” - - I loved this, as well as Cora tailoring her manner to encourage earnestness from the frightened boy.

Cora is wise to put young Hamish into her ‘witness protection program’ for the time being. I suspect examination of the bodies will support the lad’s account. I wonder how Broc and his minions will try to discredit the damning testimony.

Posted by: ghastley Jan 20 2014, 11:35 PM

Broc of course gets his minions to do his dirty work, but this time Cora has the killer in her custody. Somehow I suspect the blame will land where it should once the evidence is all presented.

The only thing I found a little confusing is how Mercutio was less than murderous with Hamish when he tried to tell what had happened. Presumably he'd already been disarmed, and could only hit out with his fist?

I wonder what Tomsen will be revealing?

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jan 26 2014, 07:46 PM

@SubRosa: Yes, I enjoyed meeting Do'Shakir the other day! I had to laugh. Too many warriors and not enough wizards in Elsweyr, perhaps? I agree that we are definitely looking at the same page on the UESP wiki! I agree, Brother Cadfael and his world-weary ways would be so welcome right about now! But I think you'll agree that Lady Cora has plenty of help in that area . . .

@Acadian: I'm glad that you liked Lady Cora's approach with both resentful Mercutio and skittish Hamish. I actually had two certain police investigators very much in my mind as I wrote this scene, and they were the biggest influence on Lady Cora's interrogation techniques. Detective Frank Pembleton and Deputy Chief Brenda Johnson are high on my list of effective interrogators. No torture for them, mind you!

@ghastley: Why didn't Mercutio not kill Hamish? He didn't know what Hamish knew until both were already under Captain Enrick's custody. By that point all Mercutio could pull off was that blow to Hamish's face. I may have to go back and rewrite Hamish's testimony to make that a little clearer.

The story so far: Lady Cora has learned that Sir Broc's younger brother Tywin has died under highly suspicious circumstances. Another charge to add to those already brought against the recalcitrant knight. The Enclave continues this morning . . .

******************
Chapter Thirty-one

“I wish you would let Siné heal you, Lady,” Titus’s gaze on me turned assessing. “You look terrible this morn.”

“I feel quite ghastly,” I agreed. Fear of those recurrent nightmares, worry over the fate of Northside, and the pain of my injuries had kept me up much of the night. “But I do not have the t- time for h- healing.” I looked down at the soil beneath my bare feet.

“Is standing in the garden helping?” Titus waved his hand at the herb seedlings.

“It eases th- the pain,” I sighed. “And I feel less dizzy when I s- stand up now.”

“You seem more stable on your feet,” Titus agreed. “Less need of my arm.”

“Thank you for th- that, Lieutenant,” I met his gaze. “And for your s- support yesterday.”

“‘Tis my duty,” Titus shrugged. “You have more value to my General as Lord of Cardonaccum.”

I hid my flinch at the reminder of Titus’s true loyalties. “I still don’t understand th- that,” I muttered. “Why me?”

“Why not?” Titus tipped his head back at the clear morning sky above us. The shadows from the eastern walls fell across halfway across the bailey, sheltering us from the sun. “That is for the General to know, and for us to wonder.”

“So h- he never explains himself to you?” I wondered.

“A soldier does not require explanations of his commanders,” Titus answered. “General Talos does not require my understanding, only my loyalty.” He smiled. “I have played chatrang with him, and have only begun to plumb the depths of his mastery of strategy and tactics.”

“So we are mere pawns in h- his game?” I didn’t like that idea. Not Cardonaccum. Not if I can help it!

“Who knows?” Titus shrugged. “I don’t question him of his strategy.”

“Do you t- trust General Talos?” I stepped out of the garden to stand before Titus. He looked down at me, his expression neutral.

“Trust?” he repeated. “I’m not certain what you mean by that, Lady.”

I considered his response. “Do you trust him to k- keep your best interests to heart, the way a friend would?”

“We are not friends,” Titus answered. “I trust General Talos to use me as he sees fit. If I am no longer useful, I hope he puts me out to pasture like an old warhorse, rather than ending my life the way we slaughter worn-out milk kine.”

My unsuccessful attempt to stifle my snicker at his unexpected turn of phrase brought an answering glint in Titus’s dark eyes. “I h- have a difficult time picturing you as a milk c- cow, Lieutenant,” I apologized. “R- rather, a bull would be more appropriate.”

His brows rose. “A bull?” He shook his head. “That is more your castellan’s style than mine.”

“No, R-Robert is a bear.” I smiled up at him. “One of the big Wrothgarian ones that are so c- cranky in the spring.”

“And dangerous,” Titus nodded his agreement. “You have a good man at your side there, Lady.”

“He’s not th- the only one,” I drew my cloak closer around me as my toes curled on the hard cobblestones and considered Titus’s words. My ribs stabbed as I inhaled cautiously, and I watched my breath sough into the morning air. Titus remained silent, and I realized that he was waiting for me to speak again. Instead, I walked toward the front of the donjon. The Colovian fell into step beside me, matching his longer strides to my slow steps.

“Do you t- trust General Talos to always do the r- right thing?” I did not pause in my plodding.

“The right thing?” Titus’s voice held only neutrality. “What is the right thing? What’s right for you may not be right for the General. So who has the - forgive me - right to judge what is - right?”

“There’s a morality, isn’t th- there?” I thought back over my Chapel teachings. “Arkay is about balance - for every life th- there must be a death, and vice versa. Mara is about love and k- kindness toward all. But soldiers don’t always live by Mara’s t- teachings.”

“No, you’re quite right, Lady,” Titus responded. “So when you ask me do I trust the General to always do the right thing, whose standards are you referring to?”

Whose standards, indeed? Right for whom? “Your own, Lieutenant. I s- suppose it’s as good as mine.”

I sensed Titus’s sharp glance at me. “I’ve seen enough of you, Lady, to take that as a compliment.” He was silent again, but only for a breath or two. “To answer your question, Lady, yes, I trust Talos in that sense.”

The sun met us fully as we rounded the corner of the donjon and approached the great double doors at the top of the steps. Titus may trust Talos to do what is right for him, but what about for me? For Cardonaccum? Is there a higher morality? Or only what is imposed by those in power? What was right for my father was not right for my mother. Or for me.

“Do you have need of my presence, Lady?” Titus’s voice interrupted my musings. I glanced up at him, the sun warming my cheek.

“Do you have plans for t- today, Lieutenant?” I countered softly. “S- something you must attend to?”

He shook his head. “Nothing that cannot be handled by my men. I ask only if I can be of assistance to you today. I sense that this will be a momentous time for you, Lady.”

I sighed. “T- today we finish the Enclave. I must h- have Broc answer for his actions. This ends t- today.”

“It will not be easy,” Titus spoke softly “You are in great pain, and must not show it.”

“Aye,” I found myself agreeing with the Colovian. “To s- show it is to show weakness, at a t- time when I can least afford it.” I started up the steps, but Titus remained at the lowest stair. He met my gaze when I paused and turned back to him. “Lieutenant, this is s- something I imagine you must report to General T-Talos. It would be best t- to give him a first-hand account, no?”

“Yes, Lady, it would be best,” Titus moved to my side. “For General Talos. But would it be best for you?”

“As much as I may h- hate to admit it,” I spoke slowly to minimize my stutter, “it may not be amiss to r- remind people that I have General T- Talos’s support as Lord of Cardonaccum.”

“Then I shall be as unobtrusive as possible,” Titus promised me. “But if there is anything I or my legionaries can do for you, Lady, don’t hesitate to call on me.”

I considered him thoughtfully. If people didn’t take the point you made with the point of your sword yesterday, then you need to be less unobtrusive. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Titus pushed the left-hand portal open and waved me through. I stepped into the warmth of the hall and looked toward the Thistle Seat. Niall has been busy. On either side of the Thistle Seat two of the ornate chairs normally found in the dining room rested before the circular hearth. In place of the normal crackling fire, magelight burned argent, splashing light as bright as day across the center of the great room. Simple wooden chairs were arranged in a row opposite the grand seats. A lectern stood on a podium halfway between the two groupings, to one side of the hearth.

Against the east wall several men stood silently, stripped of armor, weapons and surcoats. I cast my gaze over them and considered their mood. They have had fairly comfortable lodgings overnight. I’m certain Machara fed them well enough. How many will choose fealty to Cardonaccum and me as Lord after Broc is deposed? Once again I wrestled with the question of Northside Manor. Once Broc is gone, who will lead Northside? Lord Duncan left no more get that I know of.

Siné appeared from the corridor leading to the chapel. She met my gaze as I stepped to the Thistle Seat and nodded. We had not spoken since before Enrick’s return. In accordance with the rules set by Wallace’s wise father years ago, evidence was examined independently by Siné in her role as Arkay’s representative, myself as Lord of Cardonaccum, and Rodric and Edine in their roles as vassals. We would not share our findings until the formal hearing now about to begin.

Siné’s gaze on me held the typical healer’s concern as I seated myself carefully on the cushion. Only her thinned lips belied her awareness of my pain. We still did not speak to each other as she moved to the podium.

Niall approached, Thistlethorn in his hands. He set the tip of the sheathed sword on the floor at my feet and extended the hilt to me. With a nod of gratitude I took the weapon with both hands and cradled the pommel against my left shoulder.

I cast my gaze around the hall again, seeing Titus with his optio seated against the western wall, and Enrick with his men ringing the Northsiders. Where is Robert? He should be here. Rodric and Edine are coming.

Just as the two knights appeared from upstairs and took their seats with courteous nods in my direction, Sir Rodric on my left and Dame Edine on my right, Robert appeared from the kitchen wing with a group of thistlemen. In the midst of this armed group walked three prisoners - Sir Broc, Mercutio, and young Hamish. Robert led them to the three chairs opposite the hearth and motioned for them to sit. The kitchen boy hastened to obey, but Broc and Mercutio paused.

Broc cast his gaze around and met my eyes. “So I’m to be put on trial? Do I not get a defense?”

“There is no prosecution, S- Sir Broc,” I answered. “Merely a h- hearing to establish the facts. You will have your s- say.”

The knight’s jawline rippled, but Broc remained silent and took his seat with a glare at Rodric and Edine. Mercutio remained on his feet, his eyes full of disrespect and defiance. Robert stepped behind the older man, clamped a great hand on his thin shoulder, and shoved him down into the chair so hard the wooden legs grated on the stone floor. The steward flinched as if to leap back up, but Robert’s strong grip kept him pinned to the wooden seat.

“Everyone is present and accounted for, milady!” his growl reverberated around the hall.

Posted by: SubRosa Jan 26 2014, 08:06 PM

“You have more value to my General as Lord of Cardonaccum.”
Spoken bluntly, but honestly.

“General Talos does not require my understanding, only my loyalty.”
Now he sounds like a Minbari! Check his head, does it have a bone?

I also liked the discussion about "retirement". The Cyrodills are civilized enough that one doubts he'd go the way of the milk cow. But then again, Talos did try to use the Numidium to kill every member of every ruling family in Tamriel as well...

Even more I enjoyed Cora's thoughts about morality, and whose morality was right, and who has the right to decide whose right was right? Those are questions that still dog people today, with no clear answers.

And now the hearing begins. I am looking forward to a fair trial followed by a first class hanging...

Posted by: Grits Jan 27 2014, 04:36 PM

Catching up:

I love the descriptions of Lady Cora’s clothes.

But the Goddess is older, much older than the Eight. Nirn is only her most recent manifestation, if I remember Mother’s teachings aright.

Now I understand! This went a long way to get me back into the story after scratching my head over what Lady Cora meant in her musings.

Oh dear, young Tywin is dead and so is his accidental (or not) killer. Hmm…

Lady Cora’s scene with Hamish was a quiet delight.

Siné appeared from the corridor leading to the chapel. She met my gaze as I stepped to the Thistle Seat and nodded. We had not spoken since before Enrick’s return. In accordance with the rules set by Wallace’s wise father years ago, evidence was examined independently by Siné in her role as Arkay’s representative, myself as Lord of Cardonaccum, and Rodric and Edine in their roles as vassals. We would not share our findings until the formal hearing now about to begin.

OK, now I’m ready for the hearing.

Posted by: Acadian Jan 27 2014, 06:49 PM

Interesting musings about Talos, loyalties and morality.

You were right when you forecast that I would like Titus. He is not perfect, but he is a good piece of gear. Like Lady Cora, I’m glad he’s there.

Speaking of being glad someone is there, I loved Robert the Bear near the end. 'Have a seat, prisoners . . . or I’ll break your legs!’

And now we have everything in place. I join SubRosa in my confidence that the hearing will be fair. . . and hopefully followed by a swift execution.

Posted by: ghastley Jan 27 2014, 07:54 PM

“There is no prosecution, S- Sir Broc,” I answered. “Merely a h- hearing to establish the facts. You will have your s- say.”

This is the inquest. Once the inquest determines there was a murder, then there may be a trial. Do I take your unease to suggest that you already know the proper outcome of the inquest?

Posted by: jack cloudy Feb 2 2014, 09:18 PM

BROC!

I knew that leaving him unsupervised during the winter was a bad idea, but dang. Looks like his plan has become bigger than his pants for a change.


It is also worth mentioning that if the true lord of Cardonaccum had taken along the escort her retainers wanted, this might not have happened. Bandits, games aside, are probably not going to attack a large number of well-armed and well-trained men without a very good assurance they'll win. And pyrrhic victories don't count.


Fortunately Cora had a dashing escape. (which also gave further proof of something protecting her. She calls it Nirn or the goddess which is fine for now)


Back at the castle, it appears that Broc has devised a backup plan for when plan kidnap the lady and forcefully marry/impregnate her doesn't work. Given the number of troops he'd brought along I assume that one of these backup plans (Z?) is takeover by force. I still think he is outnumbered with the Thistlemen and the Legionnaires, but with the Broccolis in the right place he could do a lot of damage and decapitate the chain of command.


Cora's insistent refusal of all healing on the grounds that she can still function and has a mission to fulfill amuses me. As did her sudden flipout into murdermode. Yes, I can see what she is trying to accomplish with it, but it was surprising nonetheless. And the surprise may have been what made it so effective. No one expects the friend of all living things and weak woman without a man to brutally kill someone. Especially not without an arrow stuck in her and who knows what other injuries.


And I've only read up till the murder of Tywin. The plan to kill him was a bit bad what with relying on a friend of the victim to run him through, but I suppose it wouldn't have mattered anyway if it wasn't for the sneaky brother in the bushes. It would have been a he said she said sort of thing and Mercutio probably thought he could pre-emptively deal with all known witnesses if the witch (seriously man, why did you just call her that to her face?) had asked for them. As for the lad, he was probably brought along not as a witness, but to represent the accused and maybe face punishment in his stead. I dunno how feudalism might look on relatives of someone who perpetrated such a serious crime.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Feb 3 2014, 01:12 AM

@SubRosa: Now he sounds like a Minbari! Check his head, does it have a bone? Sage Rose, we all have bones in our heads! It's called a skull. Granted, some of us have thicker ones than others. The questions about right versus wrong are things I wrestle with frequently, as part of my own faith process. Taking the ethics courses I have taken, I've learned to question accepted dogma and to search for my own truth. Lady Cora is going through the same process here. I'm glad it came through for you as it did.

@Grits: Between you and me, the clothes of the twelfth century are some of the most flattering, feminine and lovely clothes ever designed. And they were based on practical considerations, too! Never mind the corsets, stomachers, and bustles of later fashions, these were the best! As for the theology, I 'm glad Lady Cora was able to clarify some head-scratchers for you!

@Acadian: To be honest, I keep our friend McB very much in mind as I write Robert. McB's stick avatar is actually the inspiration for our bearish castellan. Perhaps instead of Robert White-arm, he should be Robert the Bear-armed!

@ghastley: In the modern legal system, yes, this would be an inquest, the main purpose of which is to determine if there is grounds for a trial. But in the Second Era High Rock, the legal system is very different, if it even exists at all. I came across something in the Lore about Tiber Septim's biggest contribution to the Empire was not as a warrior, conqueror or emperor, but rather as a legal tactician who created the legal system that is still used in the Empire during the time of the Oblivion Crisis. Before then, there was no real legal system, though attempts have been made to establish one, as evidenced by Wallace's father's efforts.

@cloudy: I had to chuckle at your comments and summary of what has transpired so far. Looks like you accomplished a lot of catching up! I doubt that Mercutio was counting on Hamish's brother to do the actual deed. He was likely hoping for an accident, or planning to do the evil act himself and blame the good guardsman.

The story so far: With the evidence of Broc's misdeeds now gathered, the Enclave has been called to hear the roll call of his crimes and to pass judgement. I'm sorry to disappoint, but I just could not write a courtroom scene to fit this setting, leastaways not to the caliber of Destri Melarg's nail-biting version in Interregnum.

***************
Chapter Thirty-two

“. . . the wound is consistent with a keen, two-edged blade typical of a longsword,” Siné finished summing up her examination of Tywin’s body. “Death was nearly instantaneous.”

I looked at the knights. “Do you agree, S- Sir Rodric, Dame Edine?”

“Aye!” Rodric’s affirmation held unshakable confidence.

“It concurs with my captain’s assessment,” Edine nodded at Tomsen, standing at her shoulder.

“I agree that Tywin was k- killed by a sharp blade, not by a dulled sword as S- Steward Mercutio testifies,” I shifted restlessly in the Thistle Seat. Pain flared up again and disrupted my breathing. Closing my eyes dispelled the bats that swirled in my vision. When I could see again, Broc’s gaze had turned defiant. “S- Sir Broc, it would s- s- seem that the evidence does not support your t- testimony.” I held his eyes for a few agonized breaths. “What say you?”

“You claim to have no magicka, Cora ap Askey,” Broc drew himself up in his chair. “Yet I see here ample evidence of your power to manipulate good folk to your own evil ends. It began with your seduction of Lord Wallace into marriage so you could gain entry to Cardonaccum. You have lured Sir Rodric and Dame Edine to your side. Somehow even that Colovian general has been ensnared in your honey trap. Where will it end?”

“Enough!” Robert roared. “This is a court of facts, not slander and libel!”

“Castellan,” I murmured. “Let S- Sir Broc speak. Every word he utters reveals his true c- colors.” My eyes locked with Broc’s own. “After all, one can only see what his own mind is c- capable of seeing.”

“I am done speaking, Cora ap Askey!” Broc sat down abruptly. I raised my brows at him. Giving up so easily? What else do you have planned for us? For me?

“Very well,” I said finally. “Sir R- Rodric, Dame Edine, Healer Siné, do we h- have any further questions?”

“No!” Rodric’s emphatic reply was echoed by Edine’s and Siné’s softer voices.

“In the case of T- Tywin’s death, what say you?”

“Guilty!” “Guilty.” “Guilty.”

“In the c- case of conspiracy of assault on Servius T- Terentius and myself, what say you?”

Once again the verdict was unanimous. I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly against the pain in my ribs.

“In the case of t- treason against C- Cardonaccum, what say you?”

Rodric slammed his greatsword against the stone floor and rose to his feet. “Guilty, I say!” His tone held barely repressed anger. I sent him a warning glance, then turned to Edine.

“Guilty,” her whisper matched the paleness of her face. She knows what will happen next and it brings back shame and unhappy memories of her husband’s betrayal.

Siné lifted her chin as she met my gaze from her place at the podium. She twirled the quill in her hand and regarded me somberly. She is a healer. Her calling is to preserve life, not take it. How will she vote on this? “Guilty.” Her soft voice fell clearly in the silence of the great hall.

Broc’s face paled as apparently the gravity of his situation sank in. His eyes glared at me across the magelight as I set Thistlethorn upright before me and rose to my feet. With both hands wrapped around its hilt, I straightened against the agony filling my body.

“Th- the vote is final,” I pitched my voice to carry around the hall. “The s- sentence for murder is death. The s- sentence for assault is exile. The sentence for t- treason is death.” Behind Broc appeared the castellan’s bulk, bracketed by two of his most reliable thistlemen. “Castellan, the execution s- shall take place at sunset tonight. See that the courtyard is ready.”

“Milady!” Robert’s affirmative set off murmurings among the gathered folk. As the thistlemen escorted a stunned Broc away, I turned my gaze to Steward Mercutio. “For your role in T- Tywin of Northside’s death, you are also sentenced to death. As s- soon as the gallows is completed, you will h- hang by the neck until dead.”

“Damn you, Witch!” the thin man shouted as he was dragged away. “You will burn at the stake for this! Arkay set his hand on you and curse you!”

I am already cursed, I kept my face blank and turned to Hamish. “Young Hamish, th- thank you for your testimony. You are welcome to st- stay here, or return to your place at Northside.”

The boy straightened his shoulders. “I’ll go back, milady. ‘Tis my home.”

“Then wait until the morn, H- Hamish,” I managed to smile at him. “You can accompany the new lord of the manor when h- he departs tomorrow.” His eyes flew wide, and I sensed other gazes snap toward me. “Yes, I h- have decided who will run Northside for C- Cardonaccum. But first,” I turned to the gathered men-at-arms still waiting behind their guards. I motioned for Enrick to bring them forward.

“You may have heard of the c- conditions I offered Sir Laird’s men last winter,” I addressed them. “I give you the same t- terms. If you followed S- Sir Broc because you shared his convictions, you will be exiled from C- Cardonaccum forever. But if you followed h- him because of the oath you swore to him as h- his father’s heir,” I paused to catch my breath. Damn this stutter! “And if you are now willing to s- swear that same oath to Northside’s new lord, you may return with Hamish t- tomorrow.” Now I met each man’s gaze in turn. “But be warned, th- the new lord will run things differently. You may need to ch- change your behavior accordingly.”

One of the men stepped forward, away from the rest. “Milady,” he addressed me with inclined head. “I served Sir Duncan for many years. Those were good days. If the new lord milady has chosen is as honest and wise as Sir Duncan, he would not ask for a more loyal man-at-arms than myself!”

Several of the men echoed the soldier’s sentiments, moving to stand behind him. They’re all older - past their prime fighting years. But they have experience that can be valuable. I will be certain to send plenty of younger men with them to fill those numbers back up. I looked at the remaining men, about half of Broc’s contingent. Most of them, as young as Broc or younger, it seems, returned my gaze with overt hostility.

“We will not tolerate a Witch as Lord of Cardonaccum!” one of them shouted in defiance. I sighed.

“You will not need t- to,” I answered. “You are t- to go into exile immediately. Lieutenant Alorius’s legionaries will escort you to the Bluestone T- Tower and see you off my lands. If you r- return, you will be s- slain with extreme prejudice.”

“As you wish, Lady,” Titus moved from the shadows with his officers to take the forty-odd rebels in hand.

“One more th- thing,” I held up my right hand, wincing at the stabbing pain in my shoulder. “C- Captain Enrick?”

He stepped past the Northsiders to stop beside the hearth, its magelight casting his shadow high onto the walls above our heads. “Milady?”

“Come closer, C- Captain,” I picked up Thistlethorn. “Kneel.”

His eyes widened as I moved to the edge of the dais. Slowly he obeyed, taking one knee before the shallow step. “As you command, milady.”

“Captain Enrick has s- served Lord Wallace as his field c- commander for several years,” I addressed the gathered castle folk and thistlemen. “He h- has shown naught but loyalty to my husband. Since Lord Wallace’s passing, he has s- shown me naught but the same loyalty. I can th- think of no man more deserving of the knight’s r- rank.” Slowly I lifted the tip of the massive blade and rested it on his left shoulder, then his right. “From this moment forward, you are now known as Sir Enrick Dougal, th- the new lord of Northside!” Carefully I lowered Thistlethorn to the floor and met Enrick’s stunned gaze. “It is what Wallace wanted for you, C- Captain,” I whispered for his ears only as the hall erupted into cheers. I noticed that Titus’s legionaries added their voices to the accolades.

“Milady!” Enrick could only gasp. “I know nothing -!”

I nodded at the older Northsiders. “You h- have a group of men-at-arms who once served Lord Duncan gladly. You will have th- their support. Also I would suggest you take some of th- the younger thistlemen from your own field c- command to fill out their ranks.” I held my hand out to him. “Stand up, Sir Enrick!”

Posted by: Acadian Feb 3 2014, 08:01 PM

And so is ordered a pair of sunset executions. Although the sentence brings Cora no joy, it is swift, appropriate and necessary justice.

I’m betting the newly dubbed Sir Enrick will make a fine knight and lord of Northside.

Lady Cora done good here. Perhaps she will now stop holding Sine at bay, so can the two can work on some much needed witch-mending.

Posted by: Grits Feb 5 2014, 05:26 PM

I was wondering if Lady Cora would let Thistlethorn handle the executions, but she put it to happier use knighting Sir Enrick. As Acadian said, perhaps Sine will finally get a chance to work on Lady Cora before the evening’s festivities.

Posted by: SubRosa Feb 8 2014, 07:16 PM

How did I miss this? I am sorry for replying so late. Somehow your post slipped through the (many) cracks in my brain.

Now that is the fair trial (hopefully) followed by a first-class hanging that I was looking forward to. Now I am wondering if Sir Broc will be decapitated, or hanged? Hanging was usually an execution for commoners, where lopping off the head with a sword was reserved for nobles. I noticed that Cora specifically said "hanging" in reference to Romeo's friend Mecrutio, but she only said execution in the case of Broc, and did not make any mention of building a gallows before doing him in.

I appreciated that it was not Cora who pronounced sentence upon Broc. Rather it was the others. A trial by a jury of his peers. That is very enlightened, very Viking if I dare say. It is an excellent way of Cora directly showing that Broc's execution was not the personal whim of a tyrant, but rather a lawful act conducted by The State, as all true executions are.

And we see Cora offering the same amnesty that she did to Sir Lard's men. I am not surprised the older men would go with her. They go back to the days of Sir Duncan, so likely their real loyalties were with him, and not personally to his no-account son. The younger ones, brought on by Broc himself, will probably be a different matter though...

And welcome Sir Enrick! Well done on both Cora's and En's parts!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Feb 9 2014, 08:34 PM

@Acadian: Overdue witch-mending, indeed! And Sir Enrick will be awesome as the new leader of Northside. I think Lady Cora was extremely wise to reward this young man for his unswerving service to her cause, and as she is in no hurry to replace her trusted castellan, the vacancy at Northside is an excellent choice.

@Grits: Don't worry, Thistlethorn's work isn't done yet. We will see what Lady Cora plans to do with it.

@SageRose: I'm glad that you picked up on how fair and balanced this trial/hearing was, compared to the standard of medieval justice. I wrote this segment almost a year ago, and wanted to show how much the legal system in Cyrodiil had progressed since the Second Era. I can see "enlightened" nobles seeking to improve the administration of justice to be more fair and balanced to all involved, and not be partial to those with power and rank. As for your musings concerning the method of Sir Broc's execution, you will see how right you are.

The story so far: Sir Broc and his henchman Mercutio have been sentenced to death for their actions, and the Northsiders who have chosen not to swear fealty to Lady Cora and her chosen knight of the manor have been sent into exile. Captain Enrick is now Sir Enrick, Knight of Northside -- a suitable reward for his continued loyalty to Lady Cora as Lord Wallace's successor.

****************************
Chapter Thirty-three

“Don’t feel so flabbergasted, young man!” Rodric’s voice reached me as I paused outside the study. Niall opened the door for me. Within I saw the beaming knight gripping Enrick’s shoulder. “If you ever need advice, just send to me or Dame Edine. We’ll help you, not to worry!”

Enrick’s head turned as I entered the room, and the others bowed to me. The three knights stood before the warm fire, its heat welcome even at noon on this cold spring day. The former captain clapped his fist to his breast in the soldier’s salute, then remembered his new place and hastily echoed the others’ greeting. “Milady, I’m very honored that you think I’m capable -.”

“S- Sir Enrick,” I stopped him with a hand on his left forearm. “I don’t think you’re c- capable at all. I know it. In th- the absence of any more get of Lord Duncan’s, I cannot think of anyone better s- suited to run this holding than you.”

A flush bloomed across Enrick’s lean visage, and his gaze wavered from me to the knights. His eyes finally settled on Robert, standing near the window.

The big Nord grinned at Enrick’s obvious discomfiture and clanged his own mailed fist to his breast. “Hail, Sir Enrick!” His blue eyes twinkled with good humor. “You’ve done well, and rightly deserve your promotion!” His gaze shifted to Niall as the steward laid Thistlethorn carefully on the desk. “Let me see that yon sword’s as sharp as can be, milady.”

“Yes, it must be very s- sharp indeed.” I nodded. “R- Robert, please see to it, and bring it back t- to me before sunset.”

My final words halted Robert in the act of reaching for the sword. His eyes narrowed at me. “Bring it back to you?” he repeated. “Do I hear aright?”

“Milady!” Rodric exclaimed, stepping forward. “Surely you are not thinking of -!” his voice trailed off at the look I gave him.

“I must perform th- the execution myself,” I kept my voice steady. “As Lord of C- Cardonaccum I can do naught else.”

“Milady,” Siné’s voice reached me from the doorway. “Your shoulder is not healed. You will only cause more damage because of the arrowhead.”

“Yes,” Edine reached a hand out to me, a plea on her careworn face. “You are not well, milady.”

“I will not s- shirk my r- responsibilities as Lord because I am a woman!” I could not keep the frustration out of my voice. “When Wallace was injured in th- that bandit raid, remember R- Robert?” I locked gazes with him. “Remember what h- he did?”

“He executed the traitors himself,” Robert nodded. “But he was - “ He stopped himself just in time, his eyes darkening. “Milady, you are only so strong. We do not want to see you harmed any further.”

“You c- cannot protect me from my duties,” I moved my gaze to Rodric. “Because S- Sir Broc is a knight, only the Lord of C- Cardonaccum can honorably execute him. His rank entitles h- him to this much, at least.” Now I looked at Edine. “And I must s- show everyone that though I am a woman, I am s- still Lord of Cardonaccum!”

“Then at least let me remove that arrowhead immediately, milady,” Siné moved to stand beside Edine.

“Yes, let Siné do that much,” the older woman echoed.

For a moment I considered the thought. Can I really endure this? Will I be able to pick up Thistlethorn with that piece of sharp steel in my shoulder? But I can’t let them hear me screaming, for nothing will stop me from doing so. Even if we went into Siné’s alchemy lab deep below the donjon they will still hear me. And the wound won’t heal in time - my shoulder will still be too weak. No, I lifted Thistlethorn once, I can do so again. I closed my eyes. Goddess, give me strength!

“Milady, please!” Rodric’s tone held a plea. “I will do it for you!” Yes, let Sir Rodric do this. But he is the same rank as Sir Broc. That is unacceptable by High Rock standards. No, the treasonous act was directed against the Lord of Cardonaccum. As the aggrieved party, I must be the one to mete out the sentence.

I saw the anxiety in his gaze, the worry in Robert’s. Enrick’s face remained carefully neutral, but his eyes held uncertainty.

“No.” I shook my head. “I must be the one to c- carry it out. I must s- see it through.” I turned back to Robert. “That is why Thistlethorn must be as k- keen as you can possibly make it. Do not t- try to put an enchantment on it. You know what will h- happen the moment I pick it up.”

“Aye,” Robert nodded gruffly. “Any magicka will bleed right out into the ground!”

I turned back to the knights. “The sword will be k- keen, I know Robert will see to it himself. And a keen s- sword will do all the work, as both of you fighters well know. All I ask of the th- three of you is that you be present t- to witness the just punishment of the t- traitor Sir Broc.”

Edine stepped forward first. “Of course,” she said quietly, her own face as ghastly as I felt. “You can rely on me, Lord Cora.”

“And I, milady,” Enrick bowed to me, his left hand on his hilt.

I shifted my gaze to Rodric. His mustache puffed in exasperation, then he nodded curtly. “Aye, I will be there, milady!”

Of the three of them, only Edine has called me Lord. I still have a great deal of work ahead of me. That is why I must carry out the execution myself. If that is what it will take to get men to think of me as Lord of Cardonaccum -!

“I will go to my son,” Edine gathered her skirts around her. “I must speak to Tevan of the verdict.” She shook her head sadly. “This has not been easy for him.”

“Nor for you, Dame Edine,” I murmured softly. If Laird had survived Talos’s ambush last fall, would his head be on my block too? “I will s- see you in a few hours.”

Edine curtseyed gracefully and left the study. Enrick straightened his shoulders. “If I have your permission, milady,” he met my gaze, “I would like to go meet those Northsiders who will be accompanying me tomorrow, get their measure.”

“I think it is an excellent idea, S- Sir Enrick,” I smiled at him. “You will do well, I’ve no doubt.”

As Enrick departed after Edine, Rodric moved to the desk and ran his fingertips thoughtfully along the sheathed blade. Cinnie leaped onto the desk from behind the chair and paced along the sword, her whiskers brushing the back of the aged knight’s hand. Absently he cupped his hand over her head, then turned back to me.

“My apologies, milady,” he rumbled softly. “You are right, of course. As Lord of Cardonaccum you must do what you must. But ‘tis difficult for me --” his voice trailed off.

“It is difficult at t- times for me, too, Sir Rodric,” I assured him. “But I think of Lord Wallace and how he h- handled such issues. Would he let one of you perform the deed? No. So h- how can I?”

“There’s no shame in having a champion serve on your behalf in these matters,” Sir Rodric mused. “Yet that would suggest weakness on your part.” He shook his head. “Rest, milady, for that sword is a heavy burden to bear!” He spun away and limped out of the room.

Only Siné and Robert remained. The healer moved to stand before me, her large eyes expressive. “Milady, I will stand at your back. I am ready whenever you are.”

“Th- thank you, Siné,” I whispered. “I will come to you in t- time. Trust me that much, healer.”

She inclined her head gracefully before leaving.

“Sir Rodric has a point,” Robert picked up the greatsword easily in one large hand. He met my gaze as Cinnie seated herself primly on the spot where the pommel had rested. “And I know full well how stubborn you can be! I pray to Shor that this stubbornness of yours will give you the strength you will need for tonight.” He touched the hilt of the sword to his lips in salute. “I will make this keen enough to shave Shor’s beard!” Then he was gone in a swirl of his brown cloak, the door closing behind him.

Alone in the study, I turned back to look at the moggy. She sat upright in the proper way of cats, her long tail wrapped around her feet. Her golden eyes gleamed at me as she regarded me intently.

“You have s- something to say, too, Cinnie?” I asked her. In response, she picked up a front paw and began licking it. “That’s it?” I sighed, feeling the weariness in my bones beneath the constant pain.

Posted by: SubRosa Feb 9 2014, 09:17 PM

I see it will be Thistlethorn that Sir Broc will be getting a neckfull of indeed!

This entire episode is filled with Cora's greater battle. That of earning not simply the loyalty of her retainers, but their respect as a leader first, and a woman second. The entire story is filled with that, but here Cora's struggle against High Rock's gender roles is made very stark. As is her determination to bear any sacrifice.

Posted by: Acadian Feb 10 2014, 04:29 PM

That is one troublesome arrowhead! It’s taking on more of a life of its own than a Destri sweet roll!

“I will make this keen enough to shave Shor’s beard!” - - You’ve built a nice scenario where the justice, it’s manner of delivery and choice of executioner all make perfect sense.

Loved the reappearance of Cinnie and her insightful advice.

Posted by: ghastley Feb 10 2014, 05:09 PM

One is almost tempted to suggest that Broc deserves a blunter blade, but let's not be cruel.

Liked the slight indecision about healing before or after the execution. Cora already knows that Thistlethorn can do the job, but will the arrowhead allow her to do her part? Cinnie appears to think so.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Feb 16 2014, 02:59 PM

@SubRosa: Yes, Lady Cora is determined to have others fully accept her as Lord of Cardonaccum. Without their unwavering support, she knows she is nothing. What she doesn't yet realize is the power of her own personality on others.

@Acadian: I'm not sure that arrowhead compares so well against Destri's Sweet Roll! But thanks for the reminder! I knew one of you would notice Cinnie's role in this little scene.

@ghastley Lady Cora can be cold-hearted when she has to be, but she is not cruel. So, no blunt blade for the dastardly plotter. As for the healing, I'm glad you like the back and forth in Lady Cora's mind about having it done before or after her grisly task is completed.

The story so far: Sir Broc and his cronies have been sentenced to death and exile. Lady Cora has made it clear to her knights that she is the one, in spite of her injury, that must perform Sir Broc's execution. Now there is someone else she must convince . . .

***********************
Chapter Thirty-four

Silence fell over the study as I moved to the desk and stroked Cinnie’s ears. She stretched into my palm and purred, her eyes closed in hedonistic pleasure. The pain returned with a vengeance, and I leaned my hands onto the desk.

A soft sound behind me drew my head around. I glanced back over my right shoulder toward the shadows beyond the fireplace. A hooded figure moved into the firelight.

The agony racked my body and stole my breath as I startled at the apparition’s sudden appearance. “Wh- who are you?” I managed to gasp, groping for the letter knife resting near the candle. A soft paw firmly pinned my skittering hand to the desktop, and a quiet rumble reminded me of Cinnie’s presence.

“Only I, Lady Cora,” the voice I had not heard since last fall unsettled me further as the stranger lowered his hood from his face. General Talos’s hazel gaze caught the firelight as he stopped a few steps away from me.

“H- how did you get h- here?” I shot a panicked glance toward the closed door that led out to the passageway and the rest of the castle. For a gasping breath I thought of calling out for the thistlemen, but the pain in my side stole my voice. Cinnie’s head swiped against my arm.

“I came as soon as I heard of your attack,” Talos held his hands up in a manner clearly intended to reassure me. “I wanted to see for myself that you are all right. I see that you are not, however.”

Carefully I turned to face him, bracing my hands on the edge of the desk behind me. Cinnie’s odd behavior didn’t help to ease my terror at confronting the man of my nightmares alone in my own study. I struggled to gather the scattered threads of my wits into some flimsy sort of fabric. “Th- that happened not even two days ago! H- how did you get h- here from Wayrest so q- quickly?” The road to Phrygia isn’t even open yet!

“Your people have a point, Lady Cora,” Talos apparently chose to ignore my questions. “You are too weak to even lift that sword, let alone control its drop. The slightest waver from you will only lead to failure. You need a champion, as Sir Rodric said.”

I shook my head. “Who?” I managed to put a note of challenge into my voice. “You?” Through sheer will I forced the tremors in my body down into my pounding heartbeat. “Th- that will only make me appear all th- the weaker!”

“Why not Lieutenant Alorius?” Talos countered, his voice infuriatingly calm. “When he returns from the task you have set him, he will be glad to do it. He’s outside the ranks of High Rock.”

“Th- that is precisely why he c- can’t do it!” I shot back. “None of you c- can do it. Cardonaccum is not c- conquered!”

“Lady Cora,” Talos took on the tone of a patient father with a wayward child. “I heard what your healer said. That greatsword of Wallace’s is nearly as long as you are tall. You can barely carry the thing, let alone lift it.”

“That s- sword of Wallace’s is now mine, as Lord of C- Cardonaccum!” I barely managed to keep my voice just above a pained whisper. His condescension is so infuriating!

“To even try will cause that arrowhead to shred your shoulder to pieces.” Talos took a step closer. “The damage it could cause may be permanent.”

I lifted my chin and tipped my head back to keep my gaze on his. “It will be worth the price if it gains the r- respect of my knights.”

A hint of exasperation crept into Talos’s eyes as he inhaled slowly. “You have their respect, Lady Cora, as you have mine. If you push yourself too hard at this time . . .”

Of its own volition, my right hand cracked across his cheek, hard. The sound of the slap echoed into the crackling emanating from the hearth while my injured shoulder tortured an involuntary cry from my throat. Talos rocked back on his heels as I clutched at my shoulder with my left hand. Numbness followed fire down my right arm, and something hot trickled down my back.

Though my heart pounded in terror of his reaction, I looked up at him as he slowly returned his gaze to me. His brows drew together and nearly vanquished what little courage I had left. Yet my father’s temper would not allow retreat. “I’ll be the one to decide when t- too much is t-. . .”

Talos moved swifter than my vision could follow. His hands caught the two centers of my pain and drew me against him. Before I could raise my hands in protest, his lips stopped my stammer. Hard and hot, the kiss breathed golden fire into my mouth and down my throat. Similar energy coursed from the broken ribs in my left side, the wound in my right shoulder and met beneath my breastbone in a swirling conflagration that stopped my heartbeat.

I couldn’t breathe against that terrifying sensation. I had been exposed to magicka before, but this was something more - fundamental - than mere magic. Where ordinary spells merely crackled through my body into the ground with little more than a psychic lightning burn, this power filled my very being and threatened to split my skin. In the face of such heat, the pain that had been my constant torture burned away into nothingness.

Then cold darkness surged upward from the stones beneath my bare feet. For a breathless eternity that lasted barely longer than a breath night and day danced together between us. Quicker than a blink of an eye the elemental symphony disappeared.

Only his hands on my wounds held me up, only his lips met mine. For a stunned moment I tasted cloves and ginger, felt the warmth of mortal passion on my mouth. It was only a moment, but it was more than enough for my body to begin singing the way it had beneath Wallace’s loving hands. Then he broke away before I could think of an appropriate response.

I realized that both of us were breathing hard, as if we had raced each other to some undefined prize. His hot breath tickled my right ear, the side of my neck. I closed my eyes at the sudden memory of how Wallace had always touched me there so gently. For a moment I dared to imagine my husband during our moments of intimacy. But my scrambled thoughts reassembled themselves, and I recalled who held me so closely.

His fingers pressed hard into my right shoulder. I gasped at the absence of pain from either wound. Then Talos eased me back against the desk and his grip lightened. He did not meet my gaze when I looked up into his face. A deep breath came without agony, and I realized that my ribs did not hurt anymore. His hands fell away as I straightened up.

“I’m sorry, Lady Cora,” his whisper brushed my right ear as something clattered to the desk behind me. I looked down to see a broken arrowhead resting on a stained dressing, steel glinting through blood. Cinnie padded over and sniffed at it, then met my gaze and chirped. I looked back up to find myself alone in the study.

“What in Oblivion?” I muttered, leaning against the desk. Sorry for what? I reached over my right shoulder with my left hand. The ridges of a healed scar instead of the pain of a festering wound greeted my fingertips. I breathed deeply, and felt no stabbing in my left side. Air moved freely through my lungs, making me nearly giddy with relief. Why would he apologize for healing me? Why would he even bother to heal me? I am only his ally, nothing more. Does my alliance truly hold so much value to this man?

My heartbeat slowed as my body gradually ceased its thrumming. And why do I feel like this? Talos is nothing like Wallace! How could he make my body sing like this with the merest touch? But that was more than a mere touch. And I permitted it! Me, a loyal wife to a man not dead a year! Sick guilt curdled my stomach and made me groan softly. Wallace, how can you forgive me?

I sighed and moved to sit beside the fire. Do I tell the others that I have been healed? How do I explain this to them? I can’t tell them of this. How can I explain it? I, who have no magicka of my own, who have always been one to drain magicka from others, how can I be healed like this? I recalled the intensity of the fire I had felt, and the answering response from Nirn. This can’t be ordinary magicka. Only a Divine can answer the Goddess with a dance. Just who - no, what - is this man?

A/N I started a new http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=5636 in my sub forum. Fans of OHDH may enjoy this little tale.

Posted by: SubRosa Feb 16 2014, 05:49 PM

Talos? How did he get there indeed? Did he ride a dragon perhaps?

Whoa, his presence was not the only surprise! Looks like that dragon blood in his veins runs hot enough for both of them! It also looks like some dragon magic (perhaps not so much as shout as a whisper), works on Cora after all.

I liked Cora's brief thought of how magic normally ran through her like a lightning rod, grounding out impotently in the earth below.

I also liked Cora's very natural guilt over feeling passion again.

Posted by: Captain Hammer Feb 16 2014, 06:07 PM

It has been too long since I managed to catch up, and when I do, it is with this. After reading several posts where I can only imagine that Lady Cora is going to let her arm be rendered permanently lame in order to keep her seat, I was beginning to wonder if her vassals would find it necessary to step in for her. Seriously, the Lord of Cardonaccum has stones.

And then, of course, you bring back Talos. A Deity to dance with the Goddess, indeed. I must admit you succeeded in surprising me, and your use of subtlety is something that I can't ever hope to equal. But you did it. He is most assuredly of the Blood of Dragons.

Posted by: Acadian Feb 17 2014, 09:22 PM

Very neat! Loads of mystery and deliciously unanswered questions. As ever, I loved the little role that Cinnie played. You did a great job with this magical encounter, from beginning to end and the lingering questions beyond.

And I see that Cora is just beginning to deal with the question that widows and widowers have asked ourselves for ages: ‘How can one hope to compete with a ghost?’

Posted by: Grits Feb 20 2014, 09:51 PM

Cinnie was not alarmed by the general in the shadows. I like how she paw-pinned Lady Cora’s hand.

Whoa, Talos gives a new meaning to “The Fire Within!” That was a nicely hot, delicately awkward in the aftermath, and perfectly intriguing scene between the Lord and the General. Awesome!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Feb 23 2014, 02:50 PM

@SubRosa: Yes, how did he get there so fast indeed? It's a long trip from Wayrest to Cardonaccum! But General Talos rarely did anything by convention, did he? Whisper of dragon magic? More like a kiss of the Dragon! And yes, Lord Wallace has been her first, and so far, her only love. She would feel guilt over feeling that way with another.

@BamBam: Sometimes it's nice to have more than one episode to catch up to. I'm glad Lady Cora kept you guessing as to the depths of her determination. I recall your previous comments about GENERAL TALOS, DRAGONBORN OF THE NORTH!!! and how I felt reading them, knowing that this was coming! Yes, he is indeed of the Blood of Dragons.

@Acadian: I knew that you would totally love little Cinnie. And yes, I knew you would empathize with Lady Cora's quandary of her loyalty to Lord Wallace and her physical attraction to General Talos.

@ Grits: No, Cinnie was not alarmed by the presence of the General. She is a very smart cat, indeed. I'm glad you liked the scene between the two of them. It's about time we started seeing the sparks fly, in my opinion.

The story so far: Lady Cora has had a rather unsettling encounter with General Talos, whom she least expected to see on this cold spring afternoon. Especially while preparing to perform one of the least pleasant duties of a Lord: the execution of a recalcitrant traitor.

******************
Chapter Thirty-five

“It’s completely healed,” Siné’s voice reached me as she palpated gently at my shoulder. “How did this happen, milady? And in such a short period of time?” She came around to face me, her eyes serious. “I know you spent much of the afternoon in the apothecary garden, but . . .” Her voice trailed off and her eyes sharpened. “Can Nirn’s power work so quickly?”

I regarded her silently in the flickering candlelight. It was late, and the others had already gone abed. Sir Broc’s head, impaled upon a pike, looked out over the moat and the drawbridge. His steward swung from the gibbet, awaiting dawn to be taken down.

I had not told anyone of my encounter with General Talos, nor of my healed wounds. Instead I drove myself through the grim task of execution, holding Sir Broc’s gaze without wavering until they forced his head down onto the block. Robert had performed his task well, and I only had to guide Thistlethorn into the groove below the traitor’s throat. The weight of the heavy weapon did the rest.

The amount of blood that flowed didn’t surprise me, only the manner of its flowing. Violent spurts of crimson gushed from both head and severed neck in wide arcing sprays. Decorated with blood for the second time in as many days, I fought back nausea as Broc’s life subsided into a spreading pool, then ceased.

Of all the eyes on me that evening, I was most aware of Siné’s. I knew I couldn’t hide the truth from my castle healer. Sure enough, as soon as the guests had bid their farewell and I retired for the night, she followed me. Siné would not leave me until she had seen my injuries for herself.

Now I regarded the older woman. How much do I tell her? “I can’t let this be common knowledge, Siné,” I murmured. “I would prefer to let others think you have healed me.”

“Was it Nirn?” Siné persisted. “For if it was, that would be invaluable knowledge for both of us. Anything to help you recover from illness and injury as quickly as possible can only help you as Lord of Cardonaccum.”

Siné is right. But what use is it to know, if it won’t happen again? Not like that, I won’t let it! Again I felt the sickening sense of betrayal. “Siné, I can not let anyone know what h- happened.” I shook my head. “It is unlikely to occur again.”

“What you tell me tonight stays between you and me, milady,” Siné held her fingers up between us in an inclusive gesture. “But if I am to understand how it happened, I can make it happen again if need be.”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t just Nirn, Siné. It was Nirn and - and something else.”

Her brows rose. “Something else?” she repeated. “Whatever it was, it has done you a great deal of good. Your pain is gone, the arrowhead is gone, even your stutter is absent for the moment.” She sat beside me on the edge of the bed. “Can we duplicate the manner of healing?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s not likely to occur again.” Again I swallowed back the bitter taste of guilt.

“Milady,” Siné sighed. “I am a priestess of Arkay, and qualified to hear confession. I am the castle healer, privy to secrets I must carry to my grave. Above all, I wish you would consider me your friend, for I have always been so, ever since you came here.”

I considered her words, memories of the first time I met her surfacing in the silence between us.

“This is Siné, our healer and priestess of Arkay,” Lord Wallace waved the woman up. Slender, graceful, her blue eyes full of serene kindness, the woman met my gaze with a nod. Her rich brown hair, bound in a single braid beneath her right ear, draped over her shoulder and fell to her waist.

My uncle drew himself up and puffed his chest out. “My pleasure, Lady Siné,” he said. Behind me I could sense my cousin Theodastyr stiffen to attention as the healer drew near. She ignored the men, her eyes on me. “I believe your healer will find naught to complain.” Bedastyr continued.

“Come with me, child,” Siné took my cold hand in hers. “We will go away from these men, somewhere with some privacy.”

My heart pounding, for I dreaded what would come next, I followed the older woman. How would she react? She would know the truth about me - one cannot hide secrets of this nature from a healer. Once she tells Wallace of the truth, would he void the agreement and send me back to my uncle’s household? Or would life here at Cardonaccum only be worse? I could not imagine anything more adverse than what I had already endured since my father cast my mother and I out into the Reach winter.

As I expected, Siné’s eyes were changed as she looked up from her examination. “Sit up, milady,” she lowered my skirts over my legs and eased my knees to the edge of the bed. The healer moved to the nearby table and washed her hands a second time. “Your womb quickened. What happened to the babe?”

“I lost it when it was discovered.” Beaten out of me, more like.

“Does your uncle know?”

I shook my head wordlessly. Siné dried her hands deliberately on the white towel and set it down beside the washing-bowl. She came back to me and bent down, taking my chin in her firm grip and lifting my face until I met her gaze. “Did you love him?”

Did I love him? “He is my c- cousin.”

Siné did not let me avoid the question. “But did you love him? Do you still?” She read the answer in my eyes and sighed. “So it was painful for you, wasn’t it?”

Memories of my mother’s treatment at the hands of my father flitted behind my closed lids. “Is it ever without pain for women?” I felt Siné’s hand fall away and her withdrawal. When I opened my eyes, she was seated beside the bed, her gaze on me steady.

“Lord Wallace is a good man,” she said quietly. “I’m sure he would show you otherwise, for his first wife never had cause to complain.”

“You’ll tell him?” My anxiety about the marriage surged into fresh panic. “But he’ll c- cancel the marriage contract!”

“I’ll tell him only what he needs to know,” Siné answered. “That he must always be gentle with you, milady. He won’t cancel the contract, even if he suspects. Your virginity, or lack of it, was never a condition of the marriage as far as he is concerned.”

Siné had been right, I returned to the present. Our first night together had shown me that things between a man and a woman could be wonderful indeed. And it only got better as we came to know each other through the years.

“Do you remember?” Siné asked. “I never told Wallace about your cousin, nor your babe. I only told him that you knew only that it can be painful for women, and that you were terrified.”

“Did he ever guess the truth?” I wondered aloud.

“That sadness in his eyes that never went away?” Siné reminded me of a wayward comment I had once made to her. “That wasn’t grief for his wife, not after I spoke to him. He didn’t mind that he wasn’t your first, but rather that you had only known pain.”

“He never spoke of it to me,” I wondered at it. Just how much do I still not know of the man who shared my bed for ten years?

“He never wanted to cause you pain, nor remind you of it.” Siné smiled at me, but her eyes shared the sorrow I felt. She took my hand in hers and squeezed it comfortingly. “Now tell me.” Though her voice remained soft, it held an edge of unmistakable command. “What happened after we left you alone in the study?”

“I - I wasn’t alone, after all,” I drew my breath. Dare I confide in Siné? Even though she is my friend? “There was another present.”

“Another?” Siné repeated. “Who?”

I shook my head and looked down at our clasped hands. “I c- can’t say.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” Siné pressed gently.

I met Siné’s gaze. “Until I understand what happened, it’s best I say naught of it.”

Siné drew a deep breath. “What if you never understand it?”

I shrugged. “Then I’ll never speak of it again.”

Posted by: SubRosa Feb 24 2014, 02:57 AM

So we have fast-forwarded past the unpleasant bits, and moved to the more pleasant afterglow of Broc being dead.

But what use is it to know, if it won’t happen again?
Now whenever a woman thinks like this in a romance, it means beyond a shadow of a doubt that by the end she is going to end up in bed whomever it "won't happen again" with.

Followed by a wonderful flashback to Cora's arrival at Cardonaccum and first meeting with Sine. We learn more about the circumstances of Cora's banishment by her father, and how she married Wallace. Also we see the beginning of her friendship with Sine with a bond of trust between the two.


nits:
Now I regarded the older woman. [i]How much do I tell her?
You have an errant [i] italics mark left there. Also, I am wondering if the entire first five paragraphs were meant to be in italics? It does not all feel like a flashback, or internal monologue.

Posted by: Acadian Feb 24 2014, 09:08 PM

I was relieved to hear that the executions went smoothly and as planned, without any blade falter by Lady Cora. Although gruesome to think about, the image of Broc’s head on a spike was quite apropos here.

Nice job on the flashback. As ever, you show the right stuff at the right time. It seems Sine is a true friend indeed. And a master of discretion.

Posted by: ghastley Feb 24 2014, 11:30 PM

“There was another present.” - I like her (your) choice of phrasing here. Not even revealing the gender of the other person. Cora knows well how to keep secrets from leaking a piece at a time.

Did she have Broc's head piked as a punishment for splashing her?

Posted by: Grits Feb 27 2014, 09:21 PM

How wonderful to read about the beginning of Sine and Lady Cora’s friendship and trust. By the end of the episode Sine’s and Lady Cora’s emotions were perfectly clear though never spelled out on the page. Beautifully done!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Mar 2 2014, 07:29 PM

@SubRosa: I have to agree with your oh-so-true comments about women in romances! "It'll never happen again" only proves the old maxim "Never say never!" I found this the perfect time to show a little more of how difficult Lady Cora's early life was and how much she had suffered under her uncle's care. We have not yet seen why she was banished by her father - that will come later. I promise! And thanks for catching that idle italicization - I had forgotten to include the closing italic mark!

@Acadian: Yes, Siné is one of those characters that is always a joy to write. There is so much of her that it is difficult to skim over her parts, and unfair to one of the most awesome healers I've had the privilege to write. I wanted to show that she is so much more than just a healer to Lady Cora - along with our beloved Jannet, she did much to ease Lady Cora's transition into her new role at Cardonaccum ten years ago.

@ghastley: Yes, Lady Cora knows how to keep her secrets! She's full of them! And no, Broc's head on a pike is the typical result of a beheading - it's a warning to others to not mess with the current Lord of Cardonaccum!

@Grits: I'm glad you enjoyed this little bit of estrogenic writing. I felt after all the blood and gore and pain it was time for a little feminine bonding. While the two women didn't exactly talk about hair, it served its purpose.

The story so far: With Sir Broc beheaded and Sir Enrick set up in his place, the rest of the spring and the following summer has brought good fortune and a full harvest to Cardonaccum. But storm clouds are beginning to gather once more on the horizon on this sunny late fall day.

*****************
Chapter Thirty-six

“He’s settled ten mares over the summer,” Cadric announced as the stream of horses passed us. “And Nightshade’s had twelve of his own. Both are right happy and content, if ye ask me.” The two stallions brought up the rear, tossing their heads and prancing, sparks flying from shod hooves.

The sun picked out the gleaming highlights of the horses’ coats, healthy after a summer of good pasture and plenty of activity, both in the breeding shed and outside. Nightshade’s black coat shimmered violet in and out of the shade of the trees, while Inferno’s red color echoed that of the leaves above their heads.

I smiled at the aged horse-master. “That’s good news. I’m certain Lieutenant Alorius will be glad to have his stallion back in fine fettle.”

Titus joined us, his eyes scanning the mounts. “Good afternoon, Cadric,” he addressed the older man. “I trust Inferno wasn’t too difficult for you?”

Cadric eyed the taller Colovian thoughtfully. Titus turned to meet his gaze. “The truth, sir? He was a handful in the beginnin’, but we put him with a boss mare for his first and she put him in his place right quick. After that he was fine.”

“And come s- spring,” I added, “we’ll make certain you get the pick of the foals!”

The Colovian’s eyes grew somber. “Ah, that is something I will need to discuss with you, Lady Cora.” His left hand rose and drew my attention to the parchment between his fingers. I recognized the General’s seal from our copy of the treaty and lifted my gaze to him.

“Walk with me, then, Lieutenant,” I gathered my skirts. “Good work, Cadric. We will speak more later.”

The horse-master knew he had been dismissed. He knuckled his forelock at us and departed after the newly arrived young stock. We began walking toward the apothecary garden.

“You have a message from General T- Talos?” I asked. It had been six months since those tumultuous few days which ended in Sir Broc’s beheading. I had avoided thinking of my last encounter with the Colovian commander for much of that time, but my body had an irritating habit of reminding me when I was alone at night.

“Yes, Lady Cora,” Titus answered. “I’ll let you read it first.”

I stopped beside the low wall which delineated the garden and absently rubbed my palm over Cinnie’s head where she sat beside the entrance. Titus handed me the missive and waited while I read it.

King Cuhlecain has called us back to Cyrodiil. Prepare your Legion for immediate withdrawal to Wayrest. Transport to Anvil will be waiting. General Talos.

My hand trembled slightly as I looked up at Titus. “It’s late in the year for sailing, Lieutenant,” I kept my voice steady. “It will take a sevenday to get to Wayrest with the autumn rains we’ve been having.”

“Yes,” Titus’s gaze seemed unusually somber. “There’s more.” He withdrew a sealed missive from the cuff of his gauntlet and held it to me. As we traded parchments, I breathed slowly.

“Do you know what this c- contains?” I asked him.

“Only the gist of it,” he replied. Something in his voice unsettled me, and I hesitated to crack the seal. “You may want to sit down and read this in some privacy,” Titus added. Silently I nodded and moved to the wall. It was just the right height for me to set my rump down. Cinnie pranced up to me and butted my wrist with her head, purring loudly.

Titus withdrew a few steps away, his gaze on the plants within the garden. The parchment crackled as I broke the seal and unfolded the missive.

Lord of Cardonaccum, I have been commanded to relay an invitation to you. King Cuhlecain requests your presence in Cyrodiil City to celebrate the Emperor’s Day. Lieutenant Alorius will escort you the entire way. General Talos.

The terse message left me reeling, questions surfacing in rapid succession in my mind. “Emperor’s Day?” I looked up at Titus. “We don’t celebrate that here.”

“There hasn’t been an Emperor in ages,” Titus agreed. “But it was the day the old Empire celebrated the ruler’s birthday. It falls on the thirtieth day of Frostfall.”

I gasped. “But that’s a month from now! How c- can we travel quickly enough to arrive in time?” My fingers clenched on the parchment as my gaze drifted over the apothecary garden. “This is not a good t- time for me to leave Cardonaccum.” I shook my head in defiance.

“General Talos is well aware of that,” Titus answered. “He knows that you need to stay for the harvest, and put Cardonaccum up for the winter. He also knows that taking us away leaves Cardonaccum exposed. But he doesn’t make such orders lightly. There is something else going on that we are but a small part of.”

I regarded Titus solemnly. “It’s no secret that this K- King Cuhlecain intends to crown himself Emperor. But he hasn’t yet taken Cyrodiil City, how can he claim the Ruby Throne?” Suddenly my eyes widened. “General T- Talos will take it for him . . .”

“So it seems,” Titus murmured, not meeting my gaze. “There is more. Talos’s messenger tells me that Cuhlecain wishes to ratify the treaty you have with Talos, only in his own name.”

“A treaty with King Cuhlecain?” I began to shake my head. “No, no more treaties. I have enough between General T- Talos and Baron Godras of Phrygia!” Not to mention the contract with Bedastyr. I had given the covenant little thought until Wallace’s death. Now I had to consider whether or not to renew it as Wallace’s successor or let it lapse.

Now I rose to my feet and walked a few paces away from the garden. “Isn’t the K- King getting ahead of himself? Planning to celebrate the Emperor’s birthday when he is not yet crowned Emperor? When he has not even taken the White Gold Tower?”

“He has always been impetuous,” Titus answered carefully. “It has stood him in good stead in the past.”

I turned and faced Titus. “What if I declined - politely and with regrets, of course - this invitation of Cuhlecain’s?”

The Colovian’s lips thinned slightly, but his gaze did not waver. “Then my Legion would be punished for arriving without you. We are your designated escort.”

“Punished?” My eyes flickered toward the activity in the bailey, up on the walls, where legionaries and thistlemen patrolled and drilled side by side. “Punished how?”

“Decimation. The officers are drawn, hung and quartered.” The neutral tone in Titus’s voice in contrast to the gruesome images his words conjured stunned me.

“Would you c- consider refusing your orders to withdraw to Cyrodiil?”

“No.”

“Of course not. Such a silly question to ask, I know.” I returned to the wall and re-seated myself, fighting the nausea that threatened to destroy any composure I had left. “How s- soon must you leave?”

“Immediately,” Titus responded. “I already have my men gathering their gear and supplies for the move to Wayrest. We want to take advantage of the good weather while it lasts.”

I looked up at the blue sky, the precise shade of infinity. “Yes, before the rains makes the road impassable.” I sighed. “A sevenday to Wayrest, then how long a sea journey to Anvil?”

“The winds are turning unpredictable this time of the year,” Titus answered. “Another sevenday, maybe ten days. A day to embark, another to disembark. Then five to seven days on the Gold Road to Cyrodiil City, depending on how much of the countryside has sworn to Cuhlecain. Last I heard, Kvatch and Skingrad are still holding out.”

“If they are hostile, will your Legion be able to get past them?” I wondered.

“I’m certain Talos will make arrangements for your safe passage, Lady Cora,” Titus replied. “Either by force or through diplomacy.”

“I’m not worried about myself, Lieutenant,” I met his gaze. “Tell me, has this - decimation happened before? Who ordered it?”

“It has long been a method of punishment for wayward Legion officers,” Titus kept his gaze level on mine. “Officers who permit Legions to disobey orders are considered traitors. It has been the prerogative of Emperors to dictate such punishment.”

“And King Cuhlecain?” I pressed. “Has he ordered this in the past?”

“Yes,” Titus’s eyes turned grim. “When General Talos resisted his order to take Old H’roldan because it was too heavily fortified for a single Legion to take, Cuhlecain threatened to decimate the Legion.”

I felt my brows rise at his words. I recalled the news of Old H’roldan’s fall over two years ago, in the spring before my father and brother met their fates at Sancre Tor. “So General T- Talos obeyed to protect his men?” Titus nodded. “He must not have enjoyed Cuhlecain’s favor since.”

“I do not presume,” the Colovian officer reminded me. If that were me, I’d be resentful at being backed into such a corner! My men for what gain? I considered Titus thoughtfully. If I refuse, would Cuhlecain have the guts to carry out such a loathsome act? Why would he do so? I don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Especially affairs happening so far away - what influence do I have in Cyrodiil City?

“I understand, Lieutenant,” I said finally. “But I must have time to settle my affairs and prepare Cardonaccum for my absence.”

“You have good people here, Lady Cora,” Titus tipped his head back toward the bailey behind him. “They will keep Cardonaccum safe through the winter.”

“It is the spring that worries me,” I answered. “My cousin will likely press for renewal of our contract with Grey Hills, and our five-year tribute to Phrygias is due next harvest.” I shook my head. “And can you guarantee that I will be back before winter?”

Titus only shook his head.

Posted by: Acadian Mar 3 2014, 04:49 PM

You weren’t kidding when you said there were storm clouds on the horizon!

And enter our favorite (not) king. So much for Lady Cora to process so quickly. And what indeed would Cuhlecain want from the far away and relatively small realm lorded by Cora? I predict that she will reluctantly accompany Titus’ Legion.

So it seems this story may be hitting the road (and seas).

Posted by: SubRosa Mar 3 2014, 04:53 PM

Time for more Cardio! Erm, Cardo that is.

So it was not only Cora getting some romance in over the summer. Nightshade and Inferno certainly have lived up to their titles as studs!

So King Cuhlecain wants to see Lady Cora? Doubtlessly to bring her over to his side, as opposed to Talos'. I was a little surprised to hear that he did not hold the Imp City though. I was expecting this - the conquest of High Rock - took place after unifying Cyrodiil.

I loved the extra glimpse into the High Rock politics you gave us here, of tributes and contracts. Lordy Cora has more than just harvests and day to day business to worry about.

So too does Alorius it seems! Well, this story has certainly taken quite an unexpected turn!

Posted by: jack cloudy Mar 3 2014, 10:12 PM

I admit the latest timeskip took me by surprise. I thought we weren't done with the fallout of Broccoli's betrayal and powerplay. (I like that nickname too much after having used it once.)

However, the new twist suggest the fallout might still be coming. With Cora gone, there is all kinds of bad things that could happen to Cardonaccum. It would be quite ironic if this story ends with her at the head of a conquering/liberating army.


And king Cuhlecain. We haven't seen him yet or heard much of him for that matter. He sure doesn't seem to be lacking in confidence however. As pointed out, by announcing his festival he's pretty much crowned himself already. If he doesn't succeed in conquering the tower, or even if the siege would just drag out too long, it would be a major loss of face and potential rallying point for both conquered and non-conquered territories. And given precedence, there is a possibility that he'll lay the blame at his subordinates and seek to punish them. Which with the aforementioned loss of face will only make things worse for the king. Desertion and all that.




In other news, Talos' mystery grows. How did he enter Cardonaccum? Was it by ways of the same strange magic that let him bypass the normal rules regarding Cora and healing? Or was it just a matter of asking one of his men to open a backdoor and keep quiet?

Why did he apologize? Was it because his miracle has a price he didn't mention, was it because of the unasked kiss or was it simply because he tore a drat arrowhead out of her with his bare hands?

Posted by: haute ecole rider Mar 9 2014, 01:44 PM

@Acadian: Yes, Cuhlecain is our favorite king! We just love to beat up on him. I have to admit that Destri's version will strongly influence mine, though I doubt Lady Cora will find him so short as he appears in Interregnum.

@SubRosa: High Rock is not yet conquered in this story. I see it as a process that took many years, bit by stubborn bit. Cardonaccum lies in the far northwest corner, near where the peninsula runs into the mountains separating High Rock from Skyrim. As such it is logical that General Talos would go there after Old Hroldan and Sancre Tor. As for Wayrest, there is an uneasy truce for the moment between that vital port and Talos. It won't last, though, as his ambitions become more evident.

@Mr.Cloudy: So many questions! That means I am laying out this story as it should. I want people to wonder what is ahead for our intrepid heroine and her staunch supporters, which include Lieutenant Titus for the moment.

The story so far: Lady Cora and Lieutenant Titus have been summoned to appear before King Cuhlecain, ostensibly to ratify Cardonaccum's treaty with General Talos. However reluctant she is to leave Cardonaccum so close to winter, Lady Cora feels obligated enough to Titus and his men to obey the "invitation." Coming up, her first sea voyage.

******************
Chapter Thirty-seven

"Get yer fetchin' arses up here!" The shout sliced through the chaos to our ears and drew our gazes to the horse transport before us. Not aware of our presence, or just doesn't give a damn? The source of the insulting command was not looking at us, but rather down at the knot of soldiers struggling with their mounts. The uneasy horses skittered at the base of the loading ramp. “I ain’t got all day!”

I had to agree with the horses’ apparent assessment of the sea-going vessel that bobbed dockside. A small, ketch-rigged cog, it rode low in the water, its hold already full of water tuns and fodder for the cavalry mounts. A small battlemented platform crowned its bowsprit. I recognized the lethal lines of a ballista, unstrung, crouched behind the crenellated walls.

http://thelosttreasurechest.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/late-12th-century-northern-cog.jpg

A similar, larger structure rose above the stern, high enough for a Colovian to stand beneath. The space beneath the platform was crammed full of cargo and supplies. A long pole jutted out the side of the deck into the water. The rudder. Side-mounted instead of rear-mounted.

Morna pressed close behind me as the big Nord shouted more invectives at the hapless soldiers. Inferno snaked his head and pinned his ears against his neck, nearly sweeping his handler over the edge of the dock. The sailor uttered a particularly foul curse that made Morna gasp and strode down the ramp toward the stallion.

I put my hand on Titus’s arm, preventing him from stepping toward the horses. “No, Lieutenant, anger will only make things worse.” I shook off Morna’s clutching hands and gathered my skirts. Before the others could stop me, I ducked between the scrambling horses, running my hands over lathered backs and tense necks. The animals settled down as I passed each one, snorting and blowing but otherwise standing quietly.

Inferno’s haunches rose before me as he reared against the sailor’s hard hand on the reins. I stepped to the side and chanted a lullaby my mother had taught me. His hooves clattered to the dock as he swung his head toward me, his ears pricked. The Nord stared at me when I held my hand out for the reins.

After a moment, the sailor dropped the straps into my hands. I smiled up at the stallion and ran my hand down his nose from the round star between his eyes to the velvety soft skin between his flared nostrils. He blew against my fingers and dropped his head until we stood eye to eye.

“Shush, Inferno,” I whispered to the charger, so like my husband’s Nightshade. For a moment I regretted leaving the handsome black stallion at home. But having two stallions on board such a small ship, especially at this time of the year, would only spell disaster. And Nightshade is much too big for me! Rosehill is much more my size. I glanced back to where the elder mare waited at the rear of the group. Titus had generously loaned her to me for the trip, as, in his words, we suited each other so well.

I turned to Inferno’s handler. “Best lead the mares on board first,” I advised him. “Then this one will want t- to go where they are.” Now I turned to the bemused sailor, whose sun-worn eyes shifted from me to the red stallion. “Sir, please tone down your language. Horses are very sensitive to voices and do not like shouting or cursing.”

“Th’ sooner these fetchers are on board,” he growled, but his tone was much softer, “th’ less cussin’ there’ll be!” He turned and stomped back up the ramp.

I waved up Rosehill’s handler, one of the legion slaves. The boy, just seventeen, led the mare quickly up the ramp. She followed him readily, her ears pricked forward as she passed Inferno. The stallion whickered at her, but she only switched her tail at him.

As I moved to return to my escort, a tall figure caught my eye. His elbows rested on the rough surface of a dock piling, and blue smoke drifted around his golden face from a pipe cradled in one long-fingered hand. Russet hair pulled back from a widow’s peak showed his sharp features to advantage. Unlike the Nords and Bretons of Cardonaccum, he had no beard. Slanted eyes regarded me thoughtfully as he puffed on the pipe.

I had not seen Altmeri since leaving my father’s household, and the sight of the ship’s captain sent shivers down my spine. But not all Altmeri are so cruel as Aldon, I reminded myself. But I still felt unease at the thought of sharing ship’s quarters with a member of the elder race. Swallowing back unpleasant memories, I returned to the dock and my anxious maid.

“Milady!” she exclaimed. “Such rudeness!”

“The Nord?” Morna nodded. “He doesn’t know who we are,” I returned mildly, as much for Titus’s ears as my own. “The day grows short, and he has much work to do.” The sooner the ship gets underway, the further it can travel before night comes. I turned to Titus. “Have the horses traveled by s- sea before, Lieutenant?”

“Yes,” his gaze drifted over the mounts as they filed onto the ship, Inferno stamping impatiently at the foot of the ramp.

Inferno’s hooves on the ramp drew our attention back to the loading process. The big stallion pranced up the wood planks and hesitated at the top. He stretched his head forward and blew at the deck just a short hop below. From the top of the deck ramp leading down into the bowels of the ship, Rosehill lifted her head and whickered softly. Inferno jumped down onto the cog and tossed his head at the rocking of the vessel. But the calm demeanor of his mother apparently reassured him, and he strutted after her down into the hold.

“If it pleasse the ladies and the gentleman,” a hissing voice drew our attention to the strange figure now bending down to our trunks. “I sshall bring thesse aboard.” Morna gasped as we took in the reptilian head of the crewman. Strong muscles rippled as he picked up the largest container and swung it to one shoulder, causing the scaled skin to shimmer in the sunlight. Sharp teeth parted to reveal a forked, snake-like tongue. Akaviri? I wondered briefly. But no, he has legs.

“Thank you, crewman,” Titus’s tone was nonchalant. He caught our stares as the lizard-man strode for another ship moored further down the dock. “He’s an Argonian, from the Black Marsh.”

“But that’s on the other side of T- Tamriel from here!” I exclaimed. Titus smiled at us.

“Sailors go everywhere,” was all he said. I flushed, embarrassed at revealing my own provincial ignorance. Of course, they go everywhere.

Now the tall Altmer approached us. Clad in unrelieved black linen doublet and breeches, he struck an imposing figure. “Lieutenant Alorius,” he bowed to Titus. “I am glad to see you again, sir.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Titus turned to me. “Lady Cora, this is Captain Solinar of the good ship Arpenmalatu.”

Noble Truth. He knows his Aldmeri. “It is my pleasure to meet you, sir,” I tipped my head back to meet his gaze. Captain Solinar bowed his head in greeting and smiled at me.

“Lady Cora, miss,” he nodded at Morna. “Welcome to my humble ship.” He waved expansively down the dock toward another vessel. “If you will please come aboard, I will show you to your quarters.” He turned and strode past the horse transport.

“Quarters?” Morna whispered to me. “Where on these little boats is there room for quarters?” I shushed her with a look and followed after the Captain.

Unlike the cogs hired for troop transports, Arpenmalatu turned out to be slightly larger and more elegant. Her bow lacked the forecastle of the smaller ships, and her sides were sleeker, not as rounded. I noted that her stern had a more triangular shape, and she had three masts. A multitude of cables dropped from the heights down to the deck in spiderweb patterns. Unlike the horizontal yards of the cogs, the vessel’s own sail supports sloped toward the deck at sharp angles.

http://www.documentarist.com/sites/default/files/images/spanish_caravel_nina._1893.jpg

“She is a caravel,” Captain Solinar had noticed my interest in his command. I could hear the pride in his voice. “The latest in Altmeri ship technology. She can ride out storms at sea without capsizing, and seasickness is less likely aboard her.”

I glanced at Lieutenant Alorius. “Less seasickness? Then why aren’t the horses traveling by caravel?”

He shrugged and tipped his head toward the Altmer captain. I shifted my gaze to the tall commander.

“Good question, madam,” he inclined his head to me. His brown eyes held no condescension. “Because of the narrower sides, a caravel does not hold as much as a cog. More water can be fitted aboard that cog,” he thumbed in the direction of the ship we had just passed, “than aboard Arpenmalatu. I understand your holding breeds horses?”

“Yes, Captain,” I answered. “Chargers and palfreys.”

He lifted his brows at me. “I must admit I do not know the difference. But I do know that a single horse requires a great deal of water, and I am certain you are well aware of their capacious thirst.”

I felt an easing of tension as we reached the loading ramp for Arpenmalatu. He is not like the Altmeri at my father’s court. I find that I rather like him. Perhaps this trip won’t be so bad, after all.

Posted by: Acadian Mar 9 2014, 08:00 PM

How wonderful to see this introduction to seagoing vessels through Lady Cora’s inexperienced eyes!

Her way with critters shines through again as she plays 'Horse Whisperer' and helps ease loading of the animals.

Happily, she seems to get on with the Altmeri captain. He was wise to acknowledge her expertise with horses, just as she was wise to acknowledge his expertise at shipping.

I hope that her loss of contact with the soil of Nirn during the voyage will not cause her problems.

Posted by: SubRosa Mar 10 2014, 02:10 AM

A cog! Those things always look like they are about to flip over to me. But apparently they worked quite well in the North Sea and Baltic. And those stem and stern castles made excellent fighting platforms. Hopefully

As Acadian observed, Monty Roberts could not done a better job of horse whispering to get their trusty four-legged friends onboard the ship.

And a legged Akaviri sailor? Perhaps this is an ancestor of Talun-Lei's? Plus an intriguing Altmer captain. Hopefully they will not have to test his caravel's sea-worthiness on the trip around High Rock and down to Anvil.

Posted by: Grits Mar 12 2014, 07:07 PM

Egad, I enjoyed Chapter 26 immensely when you posted it but never returned to say so. The perils of reading on a mobile device.

What a shock under the clear blue sky to receive a summons to Cyrodiil City. I look forward to Lady Cora’s meeting with Cuhlecain.

The ship talk is as captivating as the horse talk, and this chapter had both! I enjoyed the multicultural flavor in Chapter 27.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Mar 16 2014, 08:44 PM

@Acadian: Horse Whisperer indeed! And not just horses, either. It's one of Lady Cora's lesser known talents. Makes sense, when you think about how she can get grown men to do things her way, too. As for her loss of contact, we will soon see how that goes.

@SubRosa: The cogs were the standard Hanseatic ships, so they must have some value. I learned that they are best in coastal waters, as they do not weather storms at sea so well. Lady Cora will get more lessons in cogs vs. caravels. I thought I would go back to the twelfth and thirteenth century for inspiration for this story, as Julian has galleons in hers, and those are the logical evolution from the caravels. Portugese sailing history is fascinating!

@Grits: I hear you about reading on a mobile device! I get emails when Jerric's Story updates, and some times I forget to log in and post a reply! I'm glad you enjoyed the multicultural flavor in Chapter 37. There will be more coming as we head to Cyrodiil City.

The story so far: Lady Cora, her maid Morna, and her escort Lieutenant Titus Alorius have just boarded the good ship Arpenmalatu. Captain Solinar is kind enough to provide Lady Cora and Morna with a little orientation session.

*********************
Chapter Thirty-eight

We followed Captain Solinar as he strode up the narrow ramp. With a light leap onto the deck, he turned and held his hand out to me. “Welcome aboard the Arpenmalatu, madam.” I looked down to see a short flight of steps from the ramp resting atop the ship’s rail to the deck. The soft rocking of the vessel inspired gratitude for the Altmer’s courtesy as I navigated my way onto Arpenmalatu with his assistance.

With both my feet as solidly on the deck as its mild swaying would allow, I studied the caravel from this new perspective. The bow rose gently to the left, where three Khajiiti clambered swiftly over ropes and up the forward mast itself. The center mast rose from the deck directly before us, shrouded in spiderwebs of twisted hemp. A similar, smaller mast rose from the raised structure at the stern.

Two doors squatted at the base of short flights of steps beneath the stern structure, recessed below the deck. Between them lay a triad of barrels lashed to the deck, a tap inserted into the topmost container. Above them, on the stern deck, I could make out the ship’s wheel behind a brass structure. Elsewhere along the deck rested piles of coiled rope and tied-down crates.

A broad-shouldered Redguard, brown linens barely darker than his skin, approached us. He silently offered Morna the same courtesy Captain Solinar had given me. Clearly intimidated by his impassive appearance, Morna glanced at me uncertainly, perched at the top of the ramp. Behind her, Lieutenant Alorius leaned to her ear and whispered softly. After a moment, Morna accepted the man’s assistance and followed me to the deck.

“This is my first mate,” Captain Solinar gestured toward the Redguard. “He goes by the name Karim, though the crew call him Basim.”

I met the first mate’s gaze. “Basim?” I repeated. “Why?”

“Basim is Yokudan for ‘smiling,’ madam,” Karim tipped his head to me in a dignified nod. I studied his impassive expression, those amazingly black eyes, the close-cropped black wool that covered his skull, and the grim set to his generous lips.

“Smiling, sir?” I tilted my head to one side. “I take it you never do?”

The slightest flicker passed through the midnight gaze, but his lips did not lighten. “Correct, madam. If you will excuse me,” he turned to the Captain.

As he gave a terse report on the ship’s status, I glanced at Morna to see her studying her hand, the one she had surrendered to Karim’s steadying clasp. She became aware of my regard and met my eyes with a flush to her cheeks, wiping her palm on her skirts.

I waved the taller woman closer and stretched to her left ear. “We will be encountering many s- strange folk on this journey,” I whispered so only she heard. “Accept them as equals to yourself, no more and no less.”

Her face when I set my heels back on the deck held doubt, but she met my gaze and nodded her understanding. I turned back in time to see Captain Solinar and Karim regarding me curiously.

“It is our first time traveling by sea, Captain,” I spoke first. “Perhaps you would be so kind to explain to us how things work aboard Arpenmalatu, how we should behave, and what we should expect of the voyage ahead of us.” I waved my hand expressively at the bustling crew. “The last thing we would like is to get in the way of your crew and be knocked overboard.” I heard Morna’s sharp inhalation behind me and stifled my smile at her unease. I’m even less comfortable than she is!

Already my stomach began complaining at the unaccustomed movement of the vessel. Repeated attempts to convince myself that it was just like riding a horse had little positive effect. If I can keep myself distracted, this voyage could be more tolerable. I dug my bare toes into the rough deck boards, seeking after any of Nirn’s strength that remained within the creosote-soaked wood. It would take too long to travel by land, especially through An Sloc and the Reaches. Hammerfell is not our friend. And I don’t care to return to my birthland - no friends remain there.

Little of Nirn’s strength reached me through the deck boards. Titus’s gaze met mine steadily as I swallowed against the incipient nausea. During the five days of traveling to reach Wayrest, we had spoken often of the possible effects of sea-traveling I might experience.

“Seasickness is quite common, at least until you get used to the motion of the ship.” Titus remarked as Inferno tossed his head against the reins. Beneath me, Rosehill paced sedately along, one ear flicking a warning to behave toward her offspring. “Some liken it to riding a rambunctious horse, much like this one!” Affectionately Titus slapped Inferno’s arched crest and smoothed the stallion’s mane down. The big horse dropped his head and slid a sidelong glance at me.

“But even a rambunctious horse keeps his feet on the ground, at least half the time!” I exclaimed. “And while I may be r-removed from Nirn on horseback, the horse gives me enough of her own magicka to sustain my strength for a little while.”

Titus’s face grew serious. “Lady Cora, what are the symptoms of your illness? What do you experience if you are severed from Nirn for too long? And how long is too long?”

I thought back to those days when I tried to fit in with the ladyfolk at Cardonaccum. Those nightmares every night. Gods, not now! “Weakness, malaise at first,” I said finally. “Loss of appetite, followed by lung chills and c- coughing. Weight loss.” I lifted my gaze to the sun, already low in the southwest. “It took about a sevenday to feel the first effects.”

“Healing potions didn’t help?” Titus asked. I shook my head. “What about healing spells? The captain of our ship is skilled in restoration - that’s why his crew is so loyal to him.”

“Any magicka conferred upon me tends to pass through to the ground,” I answered. “On board a ship? I have no idea. Only that it’s not likely to work as intended. I have a very strong inimical r- reaction to magicka in any form.” Any form? What was it that passed between General Talos and me last spring, if not some kind of magicka?

“Thank you for the information, Lady Cora,” Titus brought my attention back to the present. “If it is all right with you, I’ll keep an eye on your health. If you take a turn for the worse, I’ll ask the captain to run us ashore so you can recuperate.”

“But it may cost us time,” I protested. “Best to bear the burden for the short time it will take us to reach Anvil.”

“But if you are seasick as well,” Titus would not give up. “Wouldn’t that lower your tolerance to being severed from Nirn?”

I shrugged. “We will have to see.”

“. . . I will do everything I can to ensure a comfortable voyage for you, madam.” Captain Solinar’s voice grounded me in the present. “First, your quarters for the voyage,” he led me to the short flight of steps leading down to the right-hand door beneath the sterncastle. He ducked through it with practiced ease. “Watch your heads, guests,” he added. The warning was needed, for even Morna had to lower her head to enter.

We found ourselves in a narrow room that took up about half the space beneath the raised stern deck. A cot and a slightly larger bed stood against the slightly curved right wall, nestled between sturdy beams that rose up from the floor and disappeared through the low ceiling above. That’s the hull. No wonder it’s curved like that. Lanterns filled with argent fire swung from beams nearly as massive as the hull’s. Footsteps moved overhead at irregular intervals. Now that we were inside, out of the wind, I could hear creaking as the ship rocked gently at its moorings.

Morna glanced sidelong at me and placed a hand on one of the hull beams to steady herself. “Our trunks are here already, milady,” she pointed at the two containers, neatly placed between the two beds. I nodded at her and moved after the Captain toward the rear of the room. Narrow panes placed near the ceiling in the back wall - stern wall - let in some measure of daylight through translucent glass. A small desk stood beneath the windows, its lid closed. The left hand wall consisted of smooth boards butted up against a wide, rounded central beam that ran through the floor and the ceiling. Its lighter wood contrasted with the darker tones of the rest of the room. I stepped forward and touched the rough-shaped surface with my fingertips. Nirn’s strength, though diminished, thrummed softly into my blood. Something in my belly eased slightly, and I barely stifled a sigh of relief.

“That’s our stern mast,” Captain Solinar had noticed my interest. “We just replaced it after the old one was broken in the last storm. That’s why it’s lighter colored.”

And why I can still feel Nirn. How long will it last? I kept my thoughts to myself and eyed the cabin again. “These are your quarters, Captain?” I met the Altmer’s gaze.

He considered me thoughtfully. “Yes, madam, when we have no passengers.”

“This is only half the space beneath that -” I pointed at the ceiling with an unspoken question.

“Poop deck, madam,” Captain Solinar responded. I bit my twitching lips and turned my pointing finger at the wall bracketing the stern mast. “On the other side is the compass room, where we meet to plan the day’s sailing.” He nodded at Titus. “Myself and Lieutenant Alorius will be sleeping there.”

“Then where will you and your -” I paused until the appropriate term came to mind, “- ship’s officers meet?”

Titus stepped forward. “The same as always, Lady Cora,” he responded. “It is just like sleeping in the barracks - grab what sleep we can when it’s quiet.”

I regarded the two men, then turned back to Morna where she stood anxiously between the two beds. “I hate the thought of turning you out of your own bed, Captain,” I paused. But where on this ship is room for a passenger cabin? It is designed for cargo, not for passengers. If I don’t accept this cabin, who else will have to give up his bunk? Somehow the thought of turning the saturnine first mate out of his space did not appeal to me.

“The only other bunks are below,” Captain Solinar apparently read my thoughts. “All the men share the same space, and there would be no privacy for women such as yourselves, madam.” Morna squeaked at his words, her eyes wide.

I sighed. “Very well, Captain. I regret doing this to you, sir . . .”

“General Talos made the arrangements before he sailed ahead,” Captain Solinar assured me. “Believe me, if better were available, he would have chosen otherwise.”

Posted by: SubRosa Mar 16 2014, 09:22 PM

Love the Khajiit putting their natural talents to use climbing the ropes! And welcome Mr. Smiles. I was wondering when a Redguard would put in an appearance, given their race's fame as sailors.

Now Cora will have to face nearly a week without touching the ground. Hopefully that brand new mast will give her just enough happy earth juice to keep her going.

As I expected, Cora and Morna will be sleeping in the Captain's quarters. It is a good thing they have a gentlemanly captain like Horatio Hornblower Solinar.

Posted by: Acadian Mar 17 2014, 08:05 PM

Morna, we’re not in Kardinansas anymore! The Altmeri captain, clambering Khajiit and smiling Redguard impart more exotic flavor than Morna is likely used to. Nice job showing this.

Ah, I see Lady Cora and her Lieutenant have pondered the same concerns I had regarding severing her ties to Nirn. I love the amelioration so creatively supplied by the new stern mast.

Yes, quartering lady passengers on cargo or warships has often proved challenging. Morna made a nice ‘girly’ contrasting backdrop to Cora’s more polished and practical perspective.

Overall, this voyage is shaping up to be a joy to read!

Posted by: Grits Mar 18 2014, 03:15 PM

Karim’s nickname made me grin, and of course the nimble Khajiit were a delight.

I enjoyed every step of this introduction to the sea voyage. Titus fascinates, as always. I loved how the flashback answered my questions within the same episode. Throughout the week I look forward to this story very much!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Mar 23 2014, 06:18 PM

@SubRosa: Of course I had to introduce a Redguard in this story! And as first mate, no less! I figured the Khajiiti are naturals for the above deck work, just as Argonians are invaluable for anything below the waterline, such as plugging leaks! I didn't have Horatio Hornblower in mind as I wrote Captain Solinar, but rather http://www.angelfire.com/zine/azurite/pellew1.jpg Easily one of my favorite characters from this series, because Robert Lindsay is that good. Doesn't hurt that he has the kind of craggy good looks I'm such a sucker for.

@Acadian: I hope this voyage continues to be a joy to read. I had a blast researching 12th and 13th century sailing ships (and a little bit later, too), and have so many more questions left to ask. But I am enjoying sharing what I have learned in such an entertaining manner. One of my favorite memories of my visit to Baltimore nearly 20 years ago was my venture out on a Tall Ship from the Inner Harbor, and my tour of the http://www.historicships.org/constellation.html (scroll down to the part about the Second Constellation) being restored there. Both are much bigger and considerably more advanced than the cogs and caravels in this story, yet the experiences I had on these two ships were invaluable in writing these segments.

@Grits: I couldn't resist the little play on names for our Smiling Charlie. He comes off as so forbidding, I wanted to lighten the mood a little bit and show his fun side (yes, Karim has a fun side!).

The story so far: Lady Cora, Lieutenant Titus and Morna have embarked onto the Arpenmalatu, and have received their initial orientation. Their sailing education continues . . .

*****************
Chapter Thirty-nine

A cold breeze chased the Arpenmalatu out of Wayrest Harbor and down Iliac Bay. It came from behind our right shoulders, over the Ilessan Hills to the west. Morna shivered in the chill, even wrapped in our woolen winter cloaks. She spent as much time as possible in our room. As my seasickness worsened with the rough waves, I was initially grateful for her company, then resentful of her diligent performance of her duties.

“Madam,” Captain Solinar came in with breakfast on the second morning. “I am given to understand that you have eaten nothing since we left port?”

I struggled to sit up in the bed. “No, good C- Captain.” A wave of nausea surged into my throat as the savory scents of smoked boar and cooked eggs drifted up my nostrils. I pressed the back of my left hand against my face to block the odors as well as hold back the bile.

Captain Solinar set the tray on the desk. “Then allow me to help you,” he moved to sit beside my bed. “Do not think me forward, madam,” he laid his hand on my right wrist. “I have strong Restoration skills -“ Before Morna and I could stop him he sent a wave of white magic surging into my limb.

Instead of sending healing ease through me, the magicka only coiled within my body and turned cold and leaden in my stomach. My skin turned clammy as I writhed in acute discomfort. I managed to twist away from the Captain before gagging black fluid over the far side of the bed.

“Captain!” I heard Morna’s panicked tone as she reached for me. “Milady’s not tolerant of magicka!”

“Really?” Captain Solinar’s tone turned curious, but he touched me again. This time the residual energy that coiled within me dissipated as if sucked out through a hollow reed. I collapsed back on the mattress, gasping in fresh air. “I apologize, madam,” the contriteness in his voice felt real enough. “I hope it will pass.”

“It already is,” I answered, turning my blurred gaze on him as nausea made a victorious return. “But th- the seasickness persists.”

“What can I do to help, madam?” Solinar’s brown gaze held only concern, the same concern Siné showed her patients. “Would a healing potion help?”

I shook my head. “They only affect my t- taste buds, Captain.” Again I tried to sit up against my rebellious stomach. “Only contact with Nirn helps.”

Captain Solinar’s eyes slid to the newly installed mast that bisected the dividing wall between the stern cabins. “Is that why you were so interested in the color of that mast?” he asked. “Because it still holds something of Nirn?” He turned back to me. “If you are seasick, we must apply a different method of treating it. It manifests itself worst in the stern, belowdecks.” His gaze drifted around the small cabin. “As right here.”

“Then what d- do you recommend, Captain?” I asked.

“If you were to draw Nirn’s energy out of that mast,” Captain Solinar nodded toward the wall, “would it weaken the timber?”

I shook my head. “No, it only makes it more inert.” A study of the round wooden structural element helped me understand his concern. “I doubt it will break in a st- storm any more than the other two masts.”

Captain Solinar rose to his feet and held his hand out to me. “Then rise, madam, and take some of Nirn’s energy from the timbers of the Arpenmalatu.” He smiled encouragement at me. “Then we will proceed to the one spot on this ship where the sea will affect you the least.”

Though the ship’s heaving threatened my balance, I managed to swing my feet onto the floor and stand with the Captain’s assistance. Morna came to my side and draped my black cloak over my shoulders. Like a gallant courtier in the King’s palace, the Altmer offered me his forearm for the few steps to the mast.

Beneath my palm, the round timber creaked with the movement of the ship. I could feel both the quiet pulse of Nirn still beating within the wood, and the wind pushing on its sails high above us. My whirling stomach settled slightly, and I took a deep breath.

“Better, madam?” Captain Solinar asked, his eyes on me holding calm curiosity. I nodded silently. “Then let’s step outside, shall we?” He waved his free hand toward the door. I hesitated, glancing doubtfully at him. “General Talos is one of my best customers,” the Altmer seemed to read my unvoiced qualms, “and I would not do anything to betray his trust in me.”

Is he referring to the same kind of trust Lieutenant Titus has in General Talos? Or more the kind of trust between a common merchant and his customers—that the service provided will match the value of the coin given? I kept my thoughts silent and nodded for the Altmer to lead me outside. Morna followed behind me, quiet despair at facing the cold outside emanating off of her in palpable waves.

The wind took my breath away as we stepped onto the deck. Morna muttered a barely audible feminine invective and drew her cloak closer about her tall frame. The wooden boards beneath my bare feet creaked and heaved, while the immense sails above our heads snapped vigorously.

“Is there a s- spot on this ship where seasickness doesn’t rule?” I exclaimed softly as I held back another wave of nausea.

“This way, madam,” Captain Solinar led me midships. To my amazement, as we neared the center mast, the rocking of the deck beneath my feet subsided to a barely noticeable roll. Lieutenant Alorius turned from a murmured interaction with one of the Khajiiti crew. His sharp military appearance made me self-conscious of my own disheveled appearance.

“Good morning, madam,” Titus greeted me, waving me to sit on a crate. “Are you feeling better?”

“Not yet,” I answered. I lifted my eyes to Morna, who huddled miserably in her cloak. “C- Come, sit next to me,” I addressed my hapless maid as I made room for her. “How d- do you fight this evil affliction?” I turned back to Titus.

“The same thing you are doing,” he answered with a smile. “Don’t ask me how it works, he’s the expert,” he nodded at Captain Solinar.

“This is the one place on the ship where the pitch, roll and yaw of this ship is minimal,” the Altmer adopted a lecturing pose. Somehow I caught a whiff of self-deprecation in his tone. “Pitch is the movement about the ship’s center of gravity whence the bow,” he pointed at the forward part of the deck, “moves up and down like so.” I followed the direction of his finger in time to see the fore keel rise above the horizon. “The stern moves in the opposite direction of the bow,” Captain Solinar continued, extending his other arm in the opposite direction. As he held them out stiffly, the right arm pointing fore, and the left one aft, he demonstrated the up-and-down movement of the ship’s deck. “If you look at my shoulders, which are near the center, you’ll see that the up and down motion is minimal, compared to those of my hands.” He rocked his arms in demonstration, echoing the motion of the deck.

Morna listened in concentration, then lifted a hesitant hand. “And we are sitting where your head is, sir?”

Captain Solinar’s arms lowered involuntarily as he chuckled. “Yes, that is correct, young maid,” he smiled at us. His gaze shifted to me, and I nodded my comprehension.

“But good Captain,” I added, “the deck does not move only in the direction you showed us.”

“Yes, exactly!” Solinar snapped his elegant fingers. “There are two other directions this ship moves in as well.” Now he turned to face the bow and snapped his arms out to encompass the left and right rails of the deck. “This side-to-side motion is called the roll and is more pronounced when the wind blows to port or starboard.”

“Port and star-?” Morna repeated.

In response, Solinar lowered his right arm and pointed to the left rail. “This is the port side, to your left as you face the bow.” Now his arms traded positions. “And this is starboard.”

Morna twisted on the crate to face aft. “But now this is port?” She pointed to her left.

Captain Solinar shook his head. “That is still starboard, and this side is still port.”

I leaned to Morna. “It’s like the near and off side of a horse,” I murmured. “Doesn’t change if you ride facing the horse’s head or its tail.”

She leaned her head back in comprehension. “Of course!” she exclaimed.

I turned back to the patient Altmer, waiting with interest. “Please continue, good Captain.”

“And the last one,” Captain Solinar pointed at the mast behind us. “The boat also rotates around its central axis, as if it is spinning around this mast.”

Another wave of nausea reared its ugly head. I lifted a hand. “Um, good Captain, please don’t use that word.”

“What word?” Solinar frowned at me.

“I believe she means ‘spinning,’” Titus volunteered. “Was a time when just the thought of a spin would make me — ahem, well, you know.”

“Ah, I see,” Captain Solinar nodded. “Forgive me, madam,” he smiled down at us. Somehow, in spite of his great height, he lacked the air of condescension so often common to Altmeri. Rather, his expression held nothing but friendly humor. “I have not suffered this affliction for so long I have quite forgotten how pervasive it can be.”

A shout interrupted our lesson in fighting seasickness. Captain Solinar turned as one of the Khajiiti ran up to him and hissed something. I felt a faint sense of alarm, quite different from the nausea which had been plaguing me, but Captain Solinar’s demeanor remained calm. “Excuse me, ladies, Lieutenant,” his tone held only reassurance. “I must attend to our compass.” His gaze on me sharpened. “Ah, madam, I see that you are already feeling better!” His smile widened at the surprise I felt.

He is right! That horrid nausea is gone! I had been so engrossed in his explanation for the causes of seasickness that I had not noticed the subsidence of its signs.

“I have to agree with the Captain,” Karim’s voice reached us as he paused beside our seats. “You do look better, madam.” His expression remained inscrutable, however. “But he forgot to mention one more important thing.”

“What did he forget?” I asked. Karim waved his hand at the sea around us.

“Always keep your eyes on the horizon!” He pointed at the deck moving beneath us. “It is the only thing that does not move.” Then he was gone in the Captain’s wake.

“He’s got a point, you know,” Lieutenant Alorius spoke as I gazed after the first mate. “Somehow your eyes tell your body that that,” he pointed at the sea, “is not moving, and that settles the vertigo.” He smiled at us. “Once that happens, it’s just a matter of riding this ship much as one would ride a horse.”

I sighed. When one first learns to ride a horse, it is difficult and scary at first, especially when one does not know how the horse is going to move or react. I could remember my first few times on a horse, how far away the ground seemed then.

“How long does it take to learn to ride this caravel the way one rides a horse, then?” I met Titus’s gaze. His blue eyes sparked at my question.

“Some people learn very quickly, such as our good Captain, and Morna here,” he nodded at her. My maid glanced at him in some surprise, then flushed as she turned her head away. “Others take longer, Lady.”

Like me, I pouted to myself. “And you, Lieutenant? How long does it take you?”

“Somewhere in the middle,” Titus smiled at my frustration. “But I assure you, it lasts shorter and shorter each time you go out.” His eyes grew distant. “When we first came to High Rock, it took me a week!” A shrug of his broad shoulders dispelled that memory. “But now it just takes me a little more than a day.”

“That’s encouraging,” I could hear nothing close to that sentiment in my own voice.

Posted by: Acadian Mar 24 2014, 04:15 PM

Argh! Too bad that Nirn-fresh mast and Cora's quarters were not in the center of the ship! Despite Cora’s discomfort, this was a delightful episode. The well-intentioned healing spell from the captain showed us some of the effects of magicka on Cora - as well as the protectiveness of Morna. Happily, she was able to pull some residual ‘Nirn’ from the mast.

The lessen up near the center of the ship’s main deck was fun as well, with the captain’s animated hand demonstrations of pitch, roll and yaw. Captain Solinar seems quite a quality fellow.

Something tells me, though, that Cora is probably not cut out for a life at sea. She should definitely not give up her day job as Lord of Cardonaccum!

Posted by: ghastley Mar 24 2014, 04:42 PM

He is right! That horrid nausea is gone! I had been so engrossed in his explanation for the causes of seasickness that I had not noticed the subsidence of its signs.

That rings true! Nothing helps sea-sickness more than taking your mind off it.

I'm a bit surprised that Cora doesn't carry something with her to act like the new mast, but perhaps it would necessarily be too large to transport, if it's to be effective.

You've now got me googling to try and find out if we're equally sensitive to motion sickness in all three axes. Ship travel gives you more pitch than the others, car travel more yaw, and I'd suspect air travel is more roll. Anybody know?

Posted by: Acadian Mar 24 2014, 06:38 PM

Hee! Perhaps Cora needs to carry a potted Nirnroot for sea travel!

Any of the three axis can be disconcerting at the extreme ends (such as spinning yaw or inverted roll). I always found a reasonable rate of roll not unpleasant (even nice for sleeping). If in the stern (or especially the bow) during heavy seas on a large ship, pitch can be eerily powerful. When a battleship takes blue water over the bow, the vertical changes can be large and exert quite an unsettling degree of G-force as the body cycles from feeling very light to very heavy. I always found that to be the most potentially troublesome regarding seasickness. In an aircraft, this would be somewhat analogous to the pilot sharply pulling up, inducing G's or (even worse) sharply nosing over and the attendant negative G's. In most cases of sea and air travel, I expect the combination of pitch and roll works against its victims as well. My two septims anyway.

Oh, and I forgot to mention how much I enjoyed how readily Cora related to the horse analogies. Brilliant touch by Rider.

Posted by: SubRosa Mar 24 2014, 10:02 PM

Robert Lindsay was fantastic as Captain Pellew! He was one of the high points of that series. I loved Jamie Bamber in it too. It is a rare treat of his pre-Galactica days.

“I am given to understand that you have eaten nothing since we left port?”
I guess there is no point, since she is just going to give it right to the fish anyway! Poor Cora, she may be at home on the earth mother's solid ground, but clearly not on the sea mother's turbulent waves!

I liked Cora's musings on Captain Pellew Solinar's loyalty to Talos, and what form it might take? Also wonderful was the good captain's explanation of the forces of pitch, yaw, and roll, and his helpful remedy. I agree with our Marine (ret) that Cora ought to take a nirnroot with her the next time. But maybe a greenhouse full of them instead of only one...

Posted by: Grits Mar 28 2014, 07:58 PM

Captain Solinar’s discussion of pitch, roll, and yaw had me green around the gills. My sympathy to Lady Cora. Morna made me smile with her feminine invective and hesitant question.

I hope there’s enough Nirn left in the mast to get Lady Cora all the way to shore. She’ll arrive in poor shape if this continues!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Mar 31 2014, 01:22 AM

@Acadian: No, Lady Cora will never take to the high seas, unlike some folks we know! Be assured that she is keeping her day job! I had to laugh at your suggestion of a potted Nirnroot, but I'm not sure that would be so helpful!

@ghastley: I'd trust Acadian's experience in pitch, roll and yaw. Mine are pretty much limited to riverboats, horses and automobiles. Though I've flown a few times, and have experienced turbulence, I think it was much like being on a roller coaster, and not on a ship in rough seas. Ain't it the truth, keeping the mind busy takes it off your troubles!

@SubRosa: Yes, there was no point eating when the stomach is so topsy-turvy! Why feed the fish? And where would Lady Cora fit a greenhouse of Nirnroot??

@Grits: I'm glad everyone enjoyed Captain Solinar's lesson in the motion of moving bodies! Though I am quite sorry you had such a colorful reaction to it. I really rather like Morna. She's provincial, inexperienced in the ways of the world (though not necessarily in the ways of men), and yet she is a wonderful maid to have with you on an adventure!

The story so far: Lady Cora and maid Morna received a lesson in combating seasickness as well as one in roll, pitch and yaw. Of course Karim/Basim had the last word! Now we progress a little bit further on our sea journey.

************************
Chapter Forty

On the third day I stood at the mid-deck rail with Lieutenant Titus as we watched the last hills sheltering Iliac Bay fall behind us. The seasickness I experienced had subsided considerably yesterday, to the point that I felt like eating some porridge by sundown. However, after a night in the small cabin, the queasiness had returned. Still, it was not as strong as before, and I began to appreciate Titus’s meaning.

The sails of the accompanying cogs, carrying the horses of the Legion, shone in the faint winter sun as they turned away from us to follow the coastline eastward. I glanced at Titus. “Are the horse transports not h- headed the same way as us?”

“No,” Titus shook his head. “The cogs are not as seaworthy as this caravel. When storms blow up, they need to head to shore to ride it out.”

“Also,” Karim’s voice reached us as he joined us at the rail, “they need to resupply water. It is impossible to carry enough water for the horses for more than two or three days.”

I glanced at the tall Redguard. He never smiles, yet he is always ready with timely information. There is more going on beneath that mask than anyone can begin to suspect. “So where will they stop?”

“Probably Helgathe and Rihad,” Karim’s eyes remained on the disappearing sails. I considered his answer. Both are Hammerfell ports. Does he come from one of them? Does he wish we followed the same path as those cogs? “They’ll likely arrive in Anvil two or three days behind us, Tava permitting.”

“Tava?” I repeated the unfamiliar word.

“The Bird Goddess,” Karim turned to face us. “She brings the wind that drives our sails.” His dark eyes glinted. “Only the Ra Gada worship her.” He bowed slightly to us. “Excuse me, I must return to my duties.”

As he disappeared through the deck hatch, I turned back to Titus. “Ra Gada?”

“What the Redguards call themselves,” he explained. “They have a unique culture, and quite the interesting history.” He tipped his head in the direction of the deck hatch. “You should ask him about it.”

“And get two or th- three breaths of information from him?” I raised my brows at him. “I prefer to learn in more sizable chunks, thank you.”

“He is a busy man, Lady Cora,” Titus’s brows matched the height of mine. “Second only to our Captain, and likely the busier of the two.”

My lips quirked upward at the thought of our own second-in-commands. “Isn’t that always the c- case, Lieutenant?” Titus’s chuckle was reward enough.

“Herre, ma’am,” the soft purring of one of the Khajiit at my shoulder reminded me once more of Do’saka. I turned to see the feline hands holding a covered mug toward me, steam rising from its small sipping hole. “Some warm tea to settle your stomach.” His strong teeth, yellowed with age, glimmered in a grin. “Naught magical about it.”

I cupped my hands around the heavy pottery vessel and sipped at it tentatively. My stomach did not protest, and I drank a little more. “Thank you,” I paused, trying to remember the cook’s name. “Dro’taba?”

The Khajiit nodded in vigorous pleasure. “Yes, this one is Drro’taba.” He ducked his head at Titus before moving with that typical Khajiit spring belowdecks.

As I watched his tail disappear through the hatch, I mused at the quality of the ship’s cooking. “I’m surprised the Khajiit can c- cook so well.”

“Why not?” Titus asked me. “They have a most excellent cuisine in Elseweyr. Both sweet and salty at the same time, yet savory beyond belief.”

“So I’ve discovered,” I muttered. Indeed, Dro’taba’s cooking would put Machara’s best to shame. New flavors and unfamiliar aromas met us at each meal, yet both Morna and I found ourselves enjoying the strange dishes. When we’re not beset by seasickness, that is!

“For some reason,” Morna volunteered hesitantly, “his food helps with the upset stomach!”

I had to agree. But something else was beginning to disturb my peace. That unsettling nightmare had broken my sleep two nights in a row for the first time since the signing of the treaty with General Talos. I had grown accustomed to its infrequency over the past year. But now, after the second restless night, I began to wonder if my malady was beginning to assert itself earlier than expected.

As the day wore on, my worry and trepidation increased. Though I tried to participate in the conversation with Titus, Morna and Captain Solinar, my thoughts kept returning to that frightening place of my nightmares. General Talos is chasing me through a place that is not of Nirn. What does that mean? Why do I fear him so? And that kiss last spring! How does that fit in with that frightening figure chasing me? Does he seek my submission? Does he seek to subdue me? By chasing me through these haunted ruins? Or through the force of physical attraction? Somehow the typical seduction dance did not seem to fit what I had seen of General Talos.

After a day of brisk wind and fast sailing under clear skies, I braved the pitching of the ship to join Captain Solinar on the poop deck as the sun dropped into the ocean beyond his right shoulder. He smiled as I climbed the steps, blue smoke streaming ahead from his pipe.

“Welcome, madam,” he greeted me, one hand lifting from the steering wheel to remove the pipe from his lips. “I am glad to see your seasickness subsiding so well.”

“It gets easier each day,” I had to admit. My eyes moved toward the ruby globe hovering over the edge of the water. “I never realized how beautiful the sunset can be on the water.”

“Today was a fair day,” Captain Solinar agreed. “But tomorrow may not be such a good day for landlubbers.”

“What makes you say that, Captain?” I glanced around at the clear sky.

“Experience,” the tall Altmer winked down at me. “Behind me, the sky is bright, not red. And ahead,” he waved eastward, “there is a faint smudge on the horizon that suggests a storm, or worse, a squall.”

“What is the difference between a squall and a storm?” I peered at the sky, but couldn’t detect the subtle change he had indicated.

“A squall is pretty much a smaller, more ferocious version of a storm,” Captain Solinar’s tone turned serious. “It blows up very quickly, with little warning, and has high, gusty winds. If it comes from the wrong quarter, it can easily capsize a ship.”

I glanced up at him in alarm. “Capsize us?”

“The Arpenmalatu is a very stable ship in a storm,” Solinar pointed his pipe at the sails above us. “Its hull is large relative to the size of those sails,” he continued. “That means she is more likely to right herself if she is tipped to one side or the other. The horse transports, on the other hand . . .” his voice trailed off.

“The cogs?” I turned my gaze to the triangular sails above us and recalled the broad, square sails of the fat-hulled ships that had left us this morning. “Is that why they follow the coast? To run ashore at the sign of a storm?”

“That is correct,” Captain Solinar nodded. “We, on the other hand, can run before the wind if we must.” He gestured toward the windlass behind us. “Or we can drop the storm anchors and ride it out, if the wind is from the wrong quarter. Of course,” again he nodded up at the sails, “we would reef our canvas if we do.”

“That would keep the ship from capsizing, then?” I met Captain Solinar’s gaze. Would he assure me that no harm would come to us? Or would he tell me the plain truth? That sailing is fraught with danger, and we are all truly at the mercy of Tava, or Kyne?

“I won’t lie to you, madam,” Solinar’s gaze held mine steadily. “Your intelligence would be insulted by false reassurances. Reefing the sails would greatly decrease the risk of capsizing, but it can still happen.”

“I wouldn’t tell Morna that!” I exclaimed softly. “But how can we best prepare for rough weather?”

“Make sure everything in your cabin is secured or tied down,” Captain Solinar responded. “Be sure to keep the lids on your chamberpots latched when you are not using them.” I flinched at the mental image of our bodily wastes flying around the small space below. “And if you find that the pitching is too much to bear, go down one deck to the mid-deck. The trapdoor is just inside the cabin door, in the corner. Go forward from there and hold on to the main mast.”

“Should we tie ourselves to it?” I wondered, but Captain Solinar shook his head vigorously.

“No, madam. If the ship should start taking on water, or Gods forbid, capsize, we need to be able to get you ladies out as quickly as possible.”

I turned back to the eastern sky. “I’m quite familiar with the weather patterns on the moors, Captain,” I mused softly. “But if we’re west of that,” I waved my hand at the smudge I still couldn’t see, “and the wind is behind us, won’t that weather stay ahead of us?”

“That’s assuming that’s a westerly storm,” Captain Solinar replied. “But I’ve been watching it, and it’s new in the past quarter bell. Either it’s an easterly, or it’s blowing from north or south. We’ll know if we get closer to it.”

“If it’s an easterly,” I glanced at the Altmer, “we can have a rather abrupt change in the wind at the sails?”

“Typically the wind drops right before it changes,” he shrugged. “My crew will reef the sails if that happens. Until we know for sure which way that storm’s blowing, we will assume the worst of it.”

“Prepare for the worst and hope for the best, is that it?” I asked. He smiled and nodded.

Posted by: Acadian Mar 31 2014, 04:25 PM

Nice touches, referencing the Ra Gada and Tava. They reinforce the mystery of Smiley the Redguard.

‘As I watched his tail disappear through the hatch,’ - - Wonderfully phrased and I love the image this evokes.

Nice to see Lady Cora earning her sea legs and regaining some appetite.

Between Talosian dreams and the hint of clouds off the bow, it seems there may be storms on the horizon.

Posted by: SubRosa Mar 31 2014, 05:45 PM

I notice that Alorius got a promotion from Lieutenant Alorius to Lt. Titus... Cora is getting more accustomed to him being around, and I think considering him a friend as well as an ally?

Nice inclusion of Tava, and her veneration by Redguard sailors.

And not so nice is the return of Cora's Talosian dreams. Though I suspect they are a going to be a central piece to the story. Or at least that they point to the central matter of the story: Cora and Talos.

I liked Captain Pellew Solinar's description/warning of the upcoming squall.

“Be sure to keep the lids on your chamberpots latched when you are not using them.”
I suspect this was the most important piece of advice he imparted!

Posted by: Grits Apr 1 2014, 01:44 PM

The exchanges between Lady Cora and Titus as she now consistently thinks of him are always a delight. I enjoyed their eyebrow dance.

Ugh, chamberpots in a storm. Not to mention the sick bucket. I think I’d rather travel with the horses!

I love the details of yellowed Khajiit teeth and the tail disappearing after the rest of him.

Posted by: Thomas Kaira Apr 1 2014, 03:48 PM

Chapter 1:

So, war is evident and winter is coming. The Game of Thorns begins.

I particularly liked the piece between Cora and Wallace, where instead of being a proper lady and reading up on romance and poetry, she instead chose warfare. Not all queens need to be proper all the time, after all.

I didn't know Sun Tsu was published in Tamriel, but there it is!

One bit of etymology I'd like to go over:

Milord and Milady are referred to as formal recognitions in the piece. In actuality, they are not formal. Milord/Milady were used most often by travellers referring to people like innkeepers or if a lower classman was trying to flatter someone of higher status than them. Not very noble.

The proper formal way of addressing a lord, lady, or knight in Middle English was "My lord" and "My lady." Since she was trying to be proper while addressing her husband, I just thought I'd point that out.

To put it another way: the courier addressing Cora was using them correctly, but Cora addressing Wallace (who I am assuming is a noble or knight) was not, and it stuck out a bit for me because she was trying to be correct and proper when addressing him.