Chapter 23: Humble Pie

Just outside Ald’ruhn, en route to Fort Buckmoth, I came across a Dunmer man standing in the road. He was barefoot, dressed in nothing but pants despite the cold weather, and had a faraway expression on his face as if he was daydreaming about something. While he didn’t seem to be in distress, I couldn’t help wondering what the heck he was doing out here on such a chilly evening.

“Are you okay?” I asked, walking up to him. “Need any help?”

He fixed me with an icy stare. “You have betrayed Lord Dagoth. Taste his vengeance.”

Talos, not this again! “Who are you?” I asked sharply. “Are you following me?”

“We have you in our discerning eye, Ada Ventura.” The expressionless tone of his voice made his words even more creepy. “We see you, waking and sleeping.”

Okay, this was getting beyond a joke. “Well, you can just take your ‘discerning eye’ off me,” I snarled. “Get away from here, and stay away, or I’ll have you arrested. Got it?”

He didn’t move. Sighing in exasperation, I wheeled round and stomped off in the direction of Fort Buckmoth. Maybe I could ask the guards to – hang on, I could order them, couldn’t I?

“You two!” I barked at the two Legionnaires who stood guard by the entrance of the fort. They saluted smartly. “There’s a guy wandering around half-naked just outside of Ald’ruhn, babbling on about Lord Dagoth. Know anything about him?”

The two men exchanged glances. “Sounds like one of the Dreamers, ma’am,” one of them replied. “They’ve been showing up outside towns and cities all over Vvardenfell. They don’t do much, just wander about and talk about how they ‘dream dreams’ of the ‘Sixth House’.”

“Okay,” I said, sighing. “Well, make sure you keep an eye on him. You never know when he might turn nasty.” They saluted again, and I went on into the fort.

The commander of Buckmoth fort was a Nord woman named Imsin the Dreamer (no relation, presumably). When I told her about the Legion soldier I’d killed in Shurinbaal, she confirmed that it was a deserter, Eponis Vinipter. “I believe a man named Drinar Varyon is the smugglers’ contact in Ald’ruhn,” she told me. “He claims to be studying local pottery techniques, but I’m sure he has Dwemer artifacts hidden somewhere in his house.”

“Is there any way I can help?” I asked.

She nodded. “I hate to ask you to break the law, but we need evidence to convict him. Go to his place in Ald’ruhn and bring me any Dwemer artifacts you find inside.”

I was much too tired to tackle any more smugglers that day, so I took a long-overdue bath and ate a hearty meal, before settling in for my first good night’s sleep in three days. The next morning I bought a Divine Intervention spell from one of the Imperial Cult priests, thinking I’d probably need it now that I was forced to spend most nights out in Legion forts. It was no easier to cast than Almsivi Intervention, but no more difficult either – and at least it would allow me to avoid these ‘Dreamers’ as much as possible.

Having learned the spell, I needed to decide which of my current jobs to tackle first. Varvur would have told his father about Shurinbaal, so that was all right. I eventually decided that Lirielle’s problem was the most urgent, but I still wasn’t sure where I was going to get the rest of the money – I might just about have that much in my account, but I wasn’t keen to dip into my savings to pay off the Camonna Tong. However, thinking about the bank account suddenly gave me a good idea.

I returned to Ald’ruhn and took the Guild Guide to Vivec, where I went to see the manager at the Bank of Vvardenfell. “I’d like to withdraw 200 drakes,” I told him. “Also, I have a rather… unusual request.”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to take out a loan for 1,000 septims. Only,” I continued, “I can pay it back again within the hour.”

He hesitated. “You have my ring,” I reminded him.

The manager pursed his lips. It was obvious that he wanted to ask me all sorts of things, but wasn’t sure whether he would like the answers. Finally he got up, went to a cupboard, counted out some money into a purse, and handed it over to me without saying a word. I got the feeling that ours was going to be a ‘no questions asked’ sort of relationship.

I went to the Fighters’ Guild, paid over the 2,000 drakes to Lorbumol gro-Aglakh, received 1,000 back as a fee, and returned to the bank in just under a quarter of an hour. “Don’t ask,” I said to the manager. He didn’t ask.

My next stop was in Balmora, where I tried out my Divine Intervention spell to get to Fort Moonmoth. Apparently the commander here, Radd Hard-Heart, was the one in charge of the Breeding Netch Elimination Programme for Gnaar Mok. I got a mild shock when I realised that he was the guy who’d caught me with Dwemer artifacts from Arkngthand, but it was nothing compared to his shock when he recognised me and saw my Templar Knight uniform.

He took it in good part, laughing heartily when I explained how I’d risen from raw recruit to Knight Errant in less than two months. “Who’d have thought it?” he guffawed. “So you’ve dealt with the breeding netch, have you? Good work. Want another assignment while you’re here?”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to take on anything else right now. “I would, sir, but I’m rather busy – ”

“Well, if you have time, we need someone to go to Arkngthand and collect scrap metal.”

Surely he wasn’t serious. “Scrap metal, sir?”

“The Ordinators have challenged us to a hunt,” he explained. “They claim they’ll bring in the skin of a Corprus beast. We plan to do them one better by bringing the scrap metal from a Dwemer centurion.”

I was starting to wonder if the Legion brass ever did any actual soldiering, or if they spent their entire time getting into pissing contests with the local forces. “I’m investigating smugglers in Ald’ruhn for Imsin the Dreamer, sir. I’m very sorry.”

“Hmph. Well, when you’re finished with that you could go looking for that fool Jocien Ancois.” His eyes narrowed. “He’s been trying to teach the Erabenimsun Ashlanders of Imperial culture and virtue, but apparently some of them don’t appreciate his efforts. Can’t imagine why.”

I had to hide a smile. Hard-Heart might be a Legionnaire, but he was very much a Nord, and I wondered if he’d been on the receiving end of some of Jocien Ancois’ lectures. When he marked the Erabenimsun camp on my map I realised that it was right in the middle of Molag Mar, miles away from anything resembling civilisation. I promised to look into it if I was ever in the area (and if I ever worked out how to pronounce ‘Erabenimsun’ without stuttering).

A couple of teleports later I was back in Ald’ruhn, where I went to the Rat in the Pot to tell Lirielle her debt problem was sorted. She took the news of her brother’s death as well as could be expected, without any histrionics.

“Thank you for taking care of his debt,” she said quietly, when I’d explained everything to her. “I do miss him, fool that he was.”

Now that I’d got that over with, all there was left to do was work out how to get evidence from Drinar Varyon’s house. Imsin had made it pretty clear that she didn’t mind me going outside the bounds of the law for this mission, but I decided to start by paying Drinar a visit and scouting out the place. Even I had the sense to realise that knocking at his door in full Legion uniform would be a bad idea, so I stored my gear at the Fighter’s Guild before walking to Varyon’s house. I just hoped he wouldn’t recognise me.

Varyon was an ‘artsy’-looking type with several piercings in his large, pointed ears. For someone who didn’t appear to be wealthy or influential, he certainly seemed pretty full of himself. “What do you want?” he said haughtily, as soon as I entered the house. “I am Drinar Varyon, of the famous Varyon family.”

“Varyon family?” I asked innocently.

He frowned. “Surely even a foreigner has heard of the Varyon family?”

“I’m afraid not,” I said. “Have you heard of the Ventura family?”

“No.”

“Well then.”

Varyon’s frown deepened. “Well, I do not want to waste my time educating you. I am only here to study local pottery techniques.”

I told him that I was looking to buy a redware vase as a gift for one of my friends. While he worked at his pottery wheel (ignoring me completely), I pretended to look at samples of his work, but actually I was scanning the room to try and work out where he could have hidden smuggled goods. There were a good number of crates and chests in the place, but I didn’t dare look into any of them with Varyon around. I’d have to come back later on… when he wasn’t there.

Over dinner I tried to come up with a plan to break into Drinar’s house. I’d have to be very careful – the Legion might be willing to overlook a spot of breaking and entering, but the local Redoran guards probably wouldn’t. I was just wondering what sort of clothes to wear for a task like this, when I suddenly remembered the black garments which Caius had left to me. I really didn’t fancy trying on anything that Caius had worn, but on inspecting the clothes I found that they were thoroughly clean – and, more importantly, enchanted with spells that would improve my sneaking skills.

Just after midnight, I put on my slightly-too-loose clothes and used Almsivi Intervention to teleport from Fort Buckmoth to the Ald’ruhn temple. I made my way to Varyon’s house, hiding in the shadows to avoid the guards, and cast an unlocking spell to open the door while no one was looking. Luckily there were still lights burning in the house, though Drinar seemed to be asleep in the room downstairs.

I carefully began to search the house for evidence, praying that Varyon wouldn’t wake up and hear me. There was nothing of interest in the crates – only food and other provisions. The chests looked more interesting, but unfortunately the locks were simply too tough to pick or break, even with an Ondusi’s Unhinging scroll.

Frustrated, I looked around for anything else that I could use as evidence. I was just about to give up, when suddenly I noticed something glinting among the rows of pots and vases on the table – ones which Drinar had told me were not for sale. Looking closely, I saw that it was a small glass tube, of the kind I’d occasionally seen in Dwemer ruins.

That was when it hit me: Varyon was storing the larger goods in his chests and baking the smaller ones, such as coins and these little tubes, into his own pottery. Smart – but not smart enough to fool Ada Ventura, Legion Investigator.

I was busy congratulating myself on my cleverness when I suddenly realised that I’d forgotten to bring a spell to re-lock the door. Damn! I’d have to act quickly, or Drinar would find the door unlocked the next morning and work out what had happened.

I teleported back to Fort Buckmoth – by this point I was using so many magicka restoration potions that I was in serious danger of getting addicted – and quickly explained the situation to the Champion Raesa Pullia, who was on duty that night. She listened carefully and promised to take care of everything.

The next morning, Imsin the Dreamer took me aside and quietly told me that Drinar Varyon had been arrested for smuggling during the night. She rewarded me by promoting me to Knight Bachelor – just one rank below her own. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up in charge of a fort myself.

Now we came to the part I’d really been dreading: having to return to the Urshilaku camp. If I’d realised I’d have to go back again, I might not have capped off my last visit by throwing a tantrum and insulting their revered wise woman. It didn’t help that the more I thought back on that conversation, the more I could see that I really had been unforgivably rude to her. I was going to have to do some serious grovelling to get back into her good books.

What was more, I really wasn’t looking forward to yet another trip up the Foyada Bani-Dad. “I wish there were some kind of spell you could use to set a teleport point anywhere you wanted,” I complained to Edwinna Elbert at the Mages’ Guild. “Like a portable Guild Guide spell.”

Her brow furrowed. “Something like a Mark and Recall spell, you mean?”

When I’d finished swearing, she told me that these spells – which I’d never heard of before, of course – were sold by a mage called Sirilonwe in Vivec. “While you’re there, I have a task for you,” Edwinna said airily. “Sirilonwe has somehow acquired a copy of Chimarvamidium, one of Marobar Sul’s ‘Ancient Tales of the Dwemer’. She is trying to keep it secret, but I must have that book.”

“Are you saying you want me to steal it?”

“Not steal!” she protested. “I prefer the word ‘borrow’. I will return it later, of course.” I hesitated. “Don’t think of it as breaking your oath to the Guild, Ada – think of it as a small favour, for the advancement of the art and science of magic.”

I didn’t give a stuff about ‘the art and science of magic’, but I was well aware that Edwinna could easily kick me out of the Guild if I refused – meaning no more free potions. So, with extreme reluctance, I agreed to ‘borrow’ the book from Sirilonwe. While the High Elf mage was writing up the instructions for the Mark and Recall spells, I hunted around in her room and found the book in a locked chest. I just had time to pick the lock and stuff the book into my bag before hurrying back to Sirilonwe, hoping I’d be far away by the time she noticed the book was missing.

I brought Edwinna her precious Chimarvamidium, then bought a copy of The Hope of The Redoran to amuse myself on the journey to Maar Gan. I read it with great interest – it seemed that Athyn Sarethi had once fought his own cousin in a duel to the death, dressed as a barbarian, and armed with nothing more than a wooden club. I must say I found it hard to imagine staid, sensible Athyn doing anything like that. It made me wish I’d known him in his younger, very-slightly-wilder days.

The walk from Maar Gan to the Urshilaku camp was the usual mixture of boredom and nail-biting terror whenever I spotted a cliff racer in the distance. As soon as I arrived at the camp I attempted to cast the Mark spell, hoping I’d never have to make that journey again. Unfortunately it was more difficult to cast than I’d thought, and I quickly found myself running out of magicka.

Before too long, a crowd of Ashlanders had gathered to watch my feeble attempts at casting a simple Mysticism spell. There were sniggers, and several loud comments in the Ashlander language, which was too far removed from normal Dunmeris for me to understand. Just as I was about to burn up with embarrassment, a young girl – she couldn’t have been more than about fifteen or sixteen – broke away from the group and shyly approached me.

“You cast travel spell, Clanfriend?” she asked in broken Tamrielic. “With the hands, like this.”

I watched as my teenage tutor demonstrated the correct hand gestures, and attempted to copy her. After two or three more tries, I finally managed to cast the spell. There was an ironic round of applause from the watching Ashlanders.

“Thank you,” I said to the girl. She nodded and ran back to her gaggle of friends, who collapsed into giggles. I suspected it would be an uphill battle to persuade these guys that I was the Nerevarine.

But even this humilation was a picnic compared to my second meeting with Nibani Maesa. When I entered the tent her brows instantly shot up, and she gave me a look that could have frozen lava. “So you have returned, outlander,” she said stiffly. “Have you come to insult me and my tribe once more, or have you learned some courtesy in the weeks since our last meeting?”

“Nibani, I’m truly sorry,” I said, throwing up my hands. “My behaviour was absolutely appalling, and I know it. You welcomed me here as a guest and I just threw that back in your face. I can’t apologise enough.” She said nothing. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you? A favour, a gift… anything?”

There was a long silence. I was just debating whether falling to my knees would be a bit too melodramatic, when Nibani finally spoke. “Fine words, outlander, but it is your deeds that will truly speak for you. Prove that you have the interests of our tribe at heart, and I will believe you are sincere.”

“What do you want me to do?”

She shrugged. “That is your affair. Perform a service to the tribe, or someone in the tribe, and then return to me.”

I left the tent even more at a loss than before. What the heck was I supposed to do to help the Urshilaku? In the end I resorted to stopping random people and asking them if I could perform a service for them. Finally one of them told me to talk to Kurapli, the trader.

Kurapli was a young woman with a look of deep sadness in her eyes. When I spoke to her, she asked if I could assist her with a matter of personal vengeance. It seemed that her husband Airan-Ahhe had recently been murdered by Zallay Subaddamael, an outcast Ashlander.

“Zallay betrayed Urshilaku hospitality and killed my husband,” she said. “If you could find him, kill him, and bring the justice of his death to me, I can promise you a fine reward – my dead husband’s enchanted Spirit Spear. It is a great treasure, but I would be glad if it might purchase the vengeance that would set my husband’s spirit to rest.”

I didn’t even want an enchanted spear, but this sounded like the kind of thing that might please Nibani Maesa. “Where can I find Zallay?” I asked.

“I have heard that he has taken refuge in a place called Aharasaplit on the island of Sheogorad, the large island north of Vvardenfell,” she said. “You might find information in the fishing village of Dagon Fel.”

I had to suppress a groan. Not Dagon Fel again! Of course it made sense that a fugitive Ashlander would go as far away as possible, but couldn’t he at least have stuck to Vvardenfell island?

After studying my map carefully, I decided that it would be quicker to walk from the camp to Dagon Fel than to return to Khuul, the nearest settlement, and take a ship. But I’d reckoned without the thick fog that descended soon after I began my journey, making it far slower going than I’d expected. To make things worse, the place was crawling with blighted animals, including several massive black beetles (I later found out they were called ‘shalk’) which attacked with fire magicka when they got close. I didn’t dare to stop and rest in case they attacked me while I slept.

By the time I reached the crossing point, where a chain of small islands led over the water to Sheogorad, it was getting dark and I had no magicka left for Water Walking spells. I spent a cold, miserable night curled up under an overhanging rock, constantly jolted awake by the screech of a cliff racer or the growl of an animal in the distance. When dawn came and the fog lifted, it took nearly half an hour for the stiffness to leave my arms, legs and hands.

But when I crossed the water, I had an unexpected stroke of luck. I came ashore on the southern coast of Sheogorad, and immediately spotted a group of tents pitched a little way down the beach. They looked very much like the yurts I’d seen in Ashlander camps.

I cautiously approached one of the tattooed, weather-beaten men milling about outside the tents. “Is this Aharasaplit Camp, by any chance?” I asked, hoping he’d understand me.

He nodded. “Is there a man named Zallay Subaddamael here?”

The man jerked his thumb towards the largest of the tents and turned away. Shrugging, I entered the yurt and found myself facing another man dressed in Ashlander garb. “Zallay Subaddamael?”

“What do you want?”

“I’m here on behalf of an Urshilaku woman called Kurapli,” I said. “She tells me you murdered her husband.”

I’d expected him to try and defend himself. For all I knew there could be all sorts of extenuating circumstances, and I didn’t want to kill him just on Kurapli’s say-so. But he just shrugged and nodded.

“No excuses?” I asked. “No explanation for why you killed this guy?” He shook his head. “Well, in that case… I guess I’ll have to challenge you to a duel on Kurapli’s behalf.”

I must confess to being a bit surprised when Zallay emerged from his tent holding a claymore – a fairly poor-quality one, made of iron, but still a fearsome weapon. It still wasn’t really a fair fight, given that Zallay didn’t wear any armour, but it was more difficult than I expected. I’d worried that the other men might be drawn into the fight, but they didn’t seem to care in the slightest, even when their ‘friend’ lay bleeding to death on the ground. I thought I’d become de-sensitised to killing over the years, but this was just creepy.

As soon as I was sure Zallay was dead, I walked away from the yurts and cast the Recall spell to the Urshilaku camp. “Zallay Subaddamael is dead,” I told Kurapli, realising too late that I didn’t actually have any proof of this.

But Kurapli seemed prepared to take it on trust. “I thank you, and do you honour, Clanfriend,” she said, and took up one of the spears that lay against the wall of the yurt. “I have long kept Airan-Ahhe’s spear. He no longer has any use for it. It is with pride that I pass it on to you, and ask only that you remember his name when you use it.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. The spear was quite short and light, but it had some useful enchantments on it, and looked valuable. It didn’t seem right to take it when I’d only really done this to curry favour with Nibani, and I never even fought with spears anyway. I would have refused it if I hadn’t remembered how seriously the Ashlanders took their gift-giving customs.

“Are you sure you can afford to part with this, Kurapli?” I asked softly. She nodded. “Well, thank you. It’s beautiful… and I promise I’ll remember your husband’s name.”

By the time I got back to Nibani Maesa, I was feeling distinctly humbled. “So you have avenged Airan-Ahhe’s death,” she said, when I explained everything to her. “Very well, you have shown that you are a friend to our tribe. I assume you came here to seek my help? Have you found the Lost Prophecies?”

I nodded, and was about to hand them over to her when I remembered that she couldn’t read. Instead I had to read them out to her – over and over again, until she’d learned them off by heart – and then explain how I’d been cured of Corprus, fulfilling the second of the ‘Seven Visions’. I have to admit, I was impressed by how calmly she took the news that the Nerevarine was an outlander – most religious cults would have been screaming blue murder at that kind of ‘re-interpretation’ of their doctrine. My respect for the Urshilaku had just increased by several notches.

“You must leave me,” Nibani said at last, when I timidly asked what she thought of the new prophecies. “Hunt, sleep, train, feed, learn the land. I must place these things before my ancestors, and listen to them, and to the skies and stars of my dreams. And then, when the moons have come and gone, return, and I will give you my judgement.”

I was very happy to delay the fatal decision a bit longer, but unfortunately I had no idea what she meant by ‘when the moons have come and gone’ – and I was too embarrassed to ask. A day? A month? I decided to split the difference and give it a week.

For all the Ashlanders’ kindness, it was still a massive relief to get back to the relative civilisation of Redoran territory. When I finally arrived back in Ald’ruhn by silt strider, it felt almost like coming home. I pondered what to do with Airan-Ahhe’s spear and eventually took it to Athyn Sarethi, hoping he might keep it for me.

“Why didn’t you return here with my son?” he asked, when we’d exchanged greetings. “I wanted to thank you for taking care of the smuggling operation.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, suddenly realising how rude it must have seemed. “I had… other business for the Legion.”

Athyn nodded. “I heard about Drinar Varyon’s arrest. I must congratulate you, sera. If you wish it, I will promote you to the rank of House Cousin.”

“Really? Well, that’s – ” I broke off. “Er… is there any reason I wouldn’t wish it?”

He looked solemn. “I will tell you what I told Neminda, and all the other outlanders I have sponsored. Most Redorans will welcome you into the House, or at least not object, but there are some – including our Archmaster – who very much dislike seeing outlanders in the higher ranks. I am not saying he would directly oppose you, but if you rise much further you may attract… unwanted attention. That is all.”

Well, that did it. I didn’t even want the promotion that much, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let Venim scare me off. “I’m not afraid of him,” I said defiantly. “I’ve earned my rank. If it bothers Venim, that’s his problem.”

“As you wish. I very much hope that you will not regret it.”

“Will you regret it, Athyn?” I asked.

“No, I don’t believe so.” His expression was rather grim. “After you rescued my son, I called an emergency meeting of the Council, where certain matters were… discussed. I do not think there will be any more attacks on me, or my family.”

“So it was him sending the assassins?”

He shrugged. “I have no proof, but…” From the expression on his face, it was clear that he didn’t need any.

“What a coward,” I said in disgust. “He doesn’t dare attack you himself, so he sends other people to do his dirty work.”

Athyn shook his head. “No, Bolvyn is not a coward. He would love to challenge me openly, but he lacks a pretext.”

I wondered what on Nirn could have happened to cause such hatred between the two of them. Not that Athyn actually seemed to hate Venim; in fact, he was almost exasperatingly fair and reasonable towards him. Honestly, people who write books with titles like The True Noble’s Code aren’t supposed to live up to it. They’re supposed to get caught fiddling their taxes, or cheating on their spouse with someone half their age, so that the rest of us can laugh at their hypocrisy and feel better about ourselves.

When I asked Athyn about the spear, he suggested I take it to Varvur, who was training in the Council halls. On the way there I stopped to talk to Neminda, whom I hadn’t seen in over a month.

“Yes, Varvur’s in there,” she told me. “Training very hard from what I see.” She winked. “Looks to me like he’s trying to impress someone.”

I found Varvur practising sword-fighting techniques with one of the drillmasters. He certainly looked like he’d been working hard – he was drenched in sweat, and his spiky hair had gone a bit floppy. It looked rather cute, actually.

“Ada!” he exclaimed, breaking off from the fight when he saw me. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too,” I said. “Are you working out for something?”

“Yes, I believe I will soon be sent out on another mission. With a partner, of course.” He reddened slightly. “I… was hoping it might be you.”

I was genuinely flattered. I hadn’t thought he’d want anything more to do with me after our last mission. “I didn’t do enough to scare you off last time, then?”

Varvur laughed. “Most Redorans I know would have been much harsher with me! You are a good fighter, and… I like you.” He turned away with an embarrassed cough. “Would you like to practise duelling with me?”

I wasn’t wearing armour, but I fought a friendly duel with Varvur while the drillmaster was attending to his other pupils. He was a tougher opponent than I’d expected, and suddenly I realised why: I might have more practical experience, but he’d been in training for much longer, probably since early childhood. My parents hadn’t even let me take archery lessons until I reached my teens. I couldn’t help feeling just a teeny bit jealous.

After that we fought a bout with spears instead of swords, and this time Varvur managed to win fairly handily. “That’s a beautiful spear,” he said afterwards. “Where did you get it from?”

“An Ashlander woman gave it to me to thank me for avenging her husband’s murder.”

“An Ashlander woman! Are you serious?” I nodded. “But how did you come to meet her?”

“Well, I travel around quite a bit,” I said, as casually as possible. “I’ve visited the Urshilaku camp a few times.”

Varvur was shaking his head. “You are a strange person, Ada. I have lived here all my life, and yet I’ve hardly ever even met an Ashlander. But you seem to know everyone. Next you will be telling me you’ve made friends with one of the Telvanni wizards.”

“Well, as it happens…”

“Surely you are joking now!”

I just smiled enigmatically, but inside I was getting worried. How long would it be before people started asking serious questions about my trips out to the Ashland regions? With the high profile I seemed to be developing in both the Legion and House Redoran, I’d have to start watching my back.

Really great Maglir suggestions !!! I can't stand him! I used to think I had to protect him in that cave - when I found out he was essential I started letting him fight while I casually looted the chests, lol.

What, somebody hasn't met a Telvanni wizard? But that's something that should be on every Dunmer's bucket list.

Heck, I'd want it to be on my bucket list if I could figure it out for a moment. That, and have a date consisting solely of sparring with various unarmed and weapon techniques.

Also, I loved Ada's new adventures with Mysticism. Though I think the Ashlanders might be able to write up "Mysticism for Dummies: A Guide for the Rest of the Us." It could be a bestseller.

Chapter 24: The Madness Of Lord Mandas

Varvur’s hopes weren’t disappointed. When I talked to his father the next day, he told me that the priest Lloros Sarano had a mission for me, and that he’d like me to take Varvur along as well. The two of us set off for the Temple to find out what Lloros had in store for us.

Just as we were about to leave the manor, a young Bosmer woman of about Varvur’s age walked in through the door. She was stunningly beautiful, with a mass of long blond hair, and wearing a gown which I couldn’t have afforded if I’d saved up for a year. The moment Varvur saw her he coloured and mumbled a rather awkward greeting, which she returned, looking equally embarrassed. Hmm, I thought.

“So who’s Blondie?” I asked with a wink, once we were outside the door.

Varvur flushed even redder, avoiding my eyes. “Her name is Aeronwen. She’s another of the outlanders my father sponsors in the House.”

“She’s very pretty,” I said, stating the obvious.

“Yes, she is.” He clearly didn’t want to talk about this any more, so I let it go.

We walked over to the Temple, where Lloros Sarano briefed us on our next mission. It seemed that some Redoran soldiers had been sent to a derelict stronghold called Andasreth, where Lloros believed some bandits were hiding out, and hadn’t come back. Andasreth was a long way out west, near to Gnaar Mok (of course). It would take another day of walking to get there.

Though I didn’t mention it to Varvur, I couldn’t help noticing something a little strange about this mission. According to Lloros, four soldiers had left for Andasreth and failed to return… and he was sending two of us to chase them up. Either he had a whole lot of confidence in my abilities, or he just hadn’t thought this through very well.

Lloros had made it clear there was no time to lose in finding the missing Redorans, so we set out right away from the west gate of Ald’ruhn. Once again, Varvur didn’t seem very much inclined to talk. “Are you still thinking about your friend?” I asked at last.

He shrugged. “Not exactly. But we did once make a hunting expedition on this route, with some of the other Redorans my own age. It’s hard not to think about it whenever we walk down here.”

“You two must have been very close,” I said softly.

“We grew up together. We were more like brothers than friends.” He was silent for a few moments. “Bralen’s family were kin of the Venims. Venim didn’t care about him at all, but that was his excuse for arresting me after Bralen died. He called it ‘private justice’.” His knuckles were white.

“Venim didn’t treat you badly, did he?”

“No, but it was… humiliating. To be dragged to his manor and locked up… and then I found out he had sent assassins to kill my father while I was gone.” Varvur ground his teeth. “I only wish I had the strength to fight him. My father might, but I don’t.”

I hesitated. “Varvur, could I ask you a question? Why do Venim and your father hate each other so much?”

“My father doesn’t hate Venim,” he retorted. “Venim hates him because he sees him as a threat. If he were to challenge Bolvyn for the title of Archmaster, everyone else on the Council would support him.”

“So… no offence, but why doesn’t he? I mean, it seems pretty obvious to me that he’d make a better Archmaster…”

“I don’t know! He claims that it would damage the House, but in truth I think that he simply does not want to be Archmaster.” Varvur stopped walking. “If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to tell anyone else?”

“Of course.”

“Very well: A few months ago, the other Councillors invited my father to a secret meeting at Garisa Llethri’s house. They asked him to challenge Venim, and told him that they would all support him as Archmaster.”

“So how do you about know this?”

“I heard about it from Garisa’s son Sanvyn. Anyway, my father refused outright. In fact, he was quite angry that they had planned this without consulting him.” He drew a deep breath. “But Venim found out, and he was furious. Just a few weeks after that, the Morag Tong attacks started.”

Good grief. If I’d known half of what was going on in House Redoran before I joined, I’d have run a mile. “How do you think Venim found out?” I asked.

Varvur laughed shortly. “That is no secret. Everyone knows that he and Llethri’s wife Fathasa are lovers.”

“Watch out there, Varvur,” I protested. “Your father made me challenge a Hlaalu noble to a duel for spreading that rumour.”

“Well, he should not have done! Let Venim send his own retainers if he wants to defend himself!” He turned sharply away and stomped off down the road, leaving me hurrying to catch up with him.

When we finally came within sight of Andasreth, I could see why the ancient Dunmer had chosen this place to build a stronghold. It was built on the edge of a cliff, surrounded by high mountains, and only reachable by walking straight down a bare, featureless valley. We were too far away to see anyone standing on the building itself, but I guessed that the bandits would probably have lookouts posted. Our only hope was to attack under cover of darkness.

Varvur and I retreated a little way and set up camp, where we ate and took it in turns to sleep while waiting for it to get dark. We finally set off for Andasreth at around midnight. When we got close to the building, I slipped on the Chameleon ring which Larrius Varro, the Fort Moonmoth champion, had given to me. The enchantment wasn’t strong enough to be much use in the day, but at night it worked perfectly.

I crept up the steps leading to the main building and pressed myself against the wall, listening carefully. I could hear footsteps up on the roof above, so I guessed that a guard was patrolling up there. As soon as I heard the footsteps recede in the other direction, I beckoned to Varvur, who hurried up to join me as quickly and quietly as possible.

Inside the stronghold, it soon became clear what had happened to the Redoran party that came before us. We were quickly set upon by several roughly-dressed men and women – some armed with swords or daggers, others with Destruction spells. Any hope I’d had of finding the soldiers alive quickly faded, and vanished completely when we uncovered four decomposing bodies in a locked room.

Varvur entered the room first, and rushed forward with a cry of dismay. The corpses, still clad in bonemold armour, seemed to have been dumped in here as food for the rats that scampered around the room. From the position of the bodies, and the horrified grimaces frozen on the dead men’s faces, it was clear that some of them had still been alive when they were thrown in here to bleed to death. Clearly these bandits weren’t in the habit of taking prisoners.

“They murdered them.” Varvur’s face was pale with rage. “They just threw them in here to die like… like animals.”

“I’m sorry, Varvur.” I laid a hand on his arm. He didn’t reply, but muttered something under his breath in Dunmeris that sounded like a prayer.

There was silence for a few moments. “What should we do with them?” I said at last.

“We must take their shields back to Lloros Sarano.” He knelt down beside one of the men and carefully lifted up his bonemold tower shield, which was engraved with a picture of an insect – the Redoran symbol.

“Just the shields?”

“They are the symbol of our House,” he explained. “Bringing back the shields will show that these men died honourably, in battle. Their families will come later to take away their bodies for burial.”

“So, shall we leave now?” I asked. “Or do you want to finish off the rest of these bastards first?” The look on his face was quite enough of an answer.

When the rest of the bandits had been killed, or knocked out and tied up – then dumped in the room with the dead Redorans – Varvur and I made to leave. Both of us were tired, but not tired enough to bed down in Andasreth with a bunch of rotting corpses. Unfortunately, even with my extra strength from my enchanted gauntlets, there was no way I could carry two of the Redoran banner shields as well as my own. An Almsivi Intervention spell would have taken me straight back to the Ald’ruhn Temple, but I’d used up most of my magicka on healing spells.

“I’ll just have to leave it here, I suppose,” I said eventually. I had to stifle a groan at the thought of being forced to walk out here yet again to collect the shield. Maybe I should just buy a house in bloody Gnaar Mok.

“Will your commanders be angry?”

“I don’t know.” Certainly I doubted they’d react well to me marching in and demanding a new shield because I’d lost the old one.

I carefully cleaned my shield before leaving it propped up against a wall, and we set off back to Ald’ruhn. It was slower going this time, since we were tired and weighted down by the shields, and by the time we got back the entire town was awake and bustling.

Lloros was sad to hear about the soldiers’ deaths, but grateful for the return of the shields. To my surprise, when Varvur told him about me having to leave my Legion shield behind, he offered to give me a banner shield of my own.

“Really?” I asked. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. You are a Redoran and have served us well, so you should have a shield.” He smiled. “May it protect you well.”

After Varvur had gone home I held my new shield in my hands for a while, examining it. It was as strong as a Legion shield, and a bit lighter as well – not a bad trade, really. And of course, it was visible proof of my allegiance to House Redoran. Just as putting on my uniform for the first time had made me feel part of the Legion, having a Redoran shield helped me to feel that I really belonged in the House.

I spent most of the rest of the day in bed, catching up on sleep. The following morning I went over to Sarethi Manor to speak to Athyn. I told him that I’d have to leave Ald’ruhn on business in a few days, and asked if there was anything else he wanted me to do for him.

“I do have one more task for you,” he told me. “It concerns an old friend of mine, Arethan Mandas. Once he was a great noble of House Redoran, but his manor was destroyed by corprus monsters, and since then I fear he has gone mad. He now claims to be the Lord of West Gash, and is demanding ‘tribute’ from travellers on the road to Maar Gan.”

“Where can I find him?” I asked.

“In the cavern of Milk. Be warned: he has a few loyal followers, and some outlaws have joined his ‘estate’.” He took my map in order to mark the location of Milk. “But in any case, I would prefer that Arethan be cured of his madness, rather than killed. You might want to go to Ebonheart and speak with his father Llerar, who is the Redoran representative on the Grand Council.”

I wasn’t sure how anyone could be ‘cured’ of madness, unless it was caused by some sort of magic like those Sixth House statues. Still, the next day I set off for Ebonheart to see Llerar Mandas, using the Levitation spell from Vivec’s shrine to travel there. The priestess selling the Rising Force potions looked even more suspicious than before.

“I hope you would not think of abusing Lord Vivec’s blessing for your own gain, outlander,” she said pointedly. “For that would be blasphemy, and blasphemy is punishable by – ”

“Absolutely not,” I said hurriedly. “I like to pray to Lord Vivec whenever I have the chance, that’s all.” She narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. I decided to buy my Rising Force potions somewhere else from now on.

Llerar Mandas was a distinguished-looking elderly Dunmer, but he was dressed in the strangest suit of armour I’d ever seen. As far as I could tell, it seemed to be made out of pieces of metal from what looked like Dwemer machinery. You can get ‘Dwarven’ armour easily enough in Cyrodiil – assuming you’re fantastically rich, of course – but this was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Honestly, I couldn’t see how he could even walk in those enormous boots.

Llerar nodded sadly when I told him about his son attacking travellers. “Yes, I heard my son had gone mad. I fear his madness was caused when his daughter, Delyna, was captured.”

“Captured?”

He nodded again. “She is being held captive in Tel Fyr, the Telvanni tower of Sorcerer-Lord Divayth Fyr.”

“Divayth Fyr?” I exclaimed, with such horror that Llerar looked mildly surprised.

“Yes,” he said, with a sigh. “I am not sure how it happened, but if I know my granddaughter, I imagine she was spying on him. I do not want to lose another grandchild to the Telvanni.” Another? “Please bring her back to me.”

Oh, bloody hell. I could hardly have refused, but inside I wanted to scream. If there was one place in Morrowind I never, ever wanted to see again – apart from the Sixth House cavern of Ilunibi, of course – it was Divayth Fyr’s Telvanni tower. Of all the wizards’ towers in all Vvardenfell, why did Mandas’ daughter have to choose that one to get captured in?

At least this time I didn’t have to worry about flying, I thought, as I floated back over the ocean to Vivec’s Foreign Quarter. I could live without another humiliating scold from Fyr’s ‘daughters’, or whatever the hell they were. Suddenly a truly awful thought struck me – what if that mad old pervert had decided he wanted Delyna Mandas as a ‘wife’ as well? It was too horrible to think about.

The journey to Tel Fyr was much easier this time: I simply flew there from Wolverine Hall after teleporting to Sadrith Mora. Inside the tower, I was greeted by one of Fyr’s daughters – Beyte, if I remembered correctly. “Is your father in?” I asked. “I need to speak to him urgently.”

“He’s up in his study. I hope you’ve brought enough Levitation potions with you this time,” she called after me, as I hurried out of the room. I gritted my teeth and ignored her.

Fyr was sitting at his desk, looking exactly as he had when I last saw him – it was as if he hadn’t moved at all since then. “Hello, Ada,” he said cheerfully. “How are you doing? Bit of bad news, I’m afraid – the potion doesn’t seem to work on others. Tried it on two hopeless cases, and it killed them outright – deader than a garlic snail. But is there anything I can help you with?”

I had a little speech all prepared. “Master Fyr, I need to ask you for a great favour. It’s regarding a Redoran woman named Delyna Mandas.”

His face was completely blank. “Delyna Mandas? I don’t recall her name.”

“You… don’t?” Okay, this was unexpected. “I, er, was told that you were holding her prisoner.”

Fyr shrugged. “Many people try to steal from my tower or spy on me or enter the Corprusarium. I cannot be expected to keep track of them all. If you want to look for her, go right ahead.”

“You mean… you would agree to let her go?”

He nodded. “I will not interfere with your escape, but if she returns to my tower, I will not be held responsible.”

Talos, the guy was even crazier than I thought. How the heck could you capture a spy, lock her up, and then just forget about her? Well, at least it meant he probably hadn’t been torturing Delyna or using her as a test subject for his Corprus experiments. I just hoped someone had been remembering to feed her.

“Well, that’s very kind of you,” I said at last. “I’m sure her family will appreciate it. This wouldn’t happen to be a key to the dungeons, would it?” I asked, noticing a small key lying on the table beside him.

“Oh, I’m sure it unlocks something or other,” he said with a wink.

I took the key from the table and set off to look for the room where Delyna was held prisoner. It wasn’t difficult to find; there was only one door in the entire tower that looked remotely suitable. Unfortunately the key I’d taken from Divayth didn’t seem to fit in the lock. It was too hard to pick, and even my Ondusi’s Unhinging scrolls didn’t seemed to work.

Over in the next room, Beyte Fyr heard my exasperated grunts and came out to see what was going on. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get this door open, of course,” I growled, and then paused. “Er… your father said I could, by the way.”

She shrugged with complete indifference. “Would you happen to know where the key is?” I asked.

“No, I don’t,” she said with another shrug. “It’s probably somewhere in the Corprusarium.”

“The Corprusarium?”

“That’s where my father keeps most of his keys. He lets adventurers plunder the dungeon for treasure.”

I closed my eyes briefly. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to cast a spell to open this door, by any chance?”

“No.”

“Thought not.” I heaved a sigh. “Corprusarium it is, then.”

Down in the Corprusarium entrance, I prepared to search the dungeons by casting the Chameleon enchantment on my Amulet of Shadows. “Remember that you must not harm the inmates,” the warden called to me as I went by.

What followed was like a twisted kind of treasure hunt designed by an evil madman. I raced around the Corprusarium, avoiding the lumbering corprus monsters, and trying to find the chest which fitted Divayth’s key. Each of the chests in turn contained a different key, which opened another of the chests in the Corprusarium – including one at the bottom of a deep pool (why?!) If I hadn’t had the benefit of the levitation and Chameleon spells, I probably wouldn’t have made it out alive – or at least without being forced to kill some of the inmates.

Finally I found what seemed to be the final key. I emerged from the Corprusarium, dripping wet and on the verge of tears, and tried it on the golden door – only to find that it didn’t fit in the slightest. None of the others did either. I nearly howled in frustration.

“What’s the matter?” asked Beyte, hearing my strangled cry of rage.

“It doesn’t work!” I wailed. “I’ve tried all the keys, and none of them work!”

“Well, there are other chests within the tower itself,” she said calmly. “Perhaps you simply haven’t found the right key yet.”

It’s a good thing Fyr wasn’t there to hear the things I threatened to do to him (under my breath, of course) as I searched the tower for even more chests. At last I found one which could be opened by one of the Corprusarium keys. I tried the key from the new chest on the golden door, and finally, finally, it worked.

The door swung open to reveal a surprised-looking Dunmer woman in leather armour. “Delyna Mandas?” I asked wearily.

She nodded. “Who are you? Did my father send you?”

“Your grandfather, actually.” I sighed. “Next time you decide to spy on a Telvanni wizard, could you please try not to get caught? You wouldn’t believe what I’ve had to go through to get you out of here.”

“I can’t imagine,” she murmured, staring at my soaking-wet clothes and hair. I think she was picturing Divayth Fyr dunking me in a pond for his own amusement. I wouldn’t have put it past him, frankly.

As we left the tower together, I told Delyna about her father’s descent into madness. She looked grave. “I heard my father went mad with grief when I was captured, but I did not know how bad things were. I will see him as soon as I can.”

“Do you want me to take you back to Sadrith Mora?”

She shook her head. “I have duties that cannot be ignored. I will visit my father when I can. In the meantime, please take this locket to him.” She handed me a small engraved amulet from her pocket. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

I cast a Divine Intervention spell to get back to Wolverine Hall, leaving Delyna to finish off whatever business she had at Tel Fyr. I hoped to goodness she wouldn’t manage to get herself captured again. If she did, I thought, she’d better not expect me to get her out of there a second time.

I was far too tired to go looking for Arethan Mandas after all that, so I spent the rest of the day in Ald’ruhn before returning to Buckmoth for the night. The next day I set off again down that all-too-familiar route towards the west coast. According to my map, the cavern of Milk was just a little north-east of Drulene Falen’s hut.

Outside the cave entrance, I wondered what would be best: to walk straight in and try to talk Arethan’s guards into letting me see him, or sneak past them and hope that I’d find him alone. The first option was definitely more dangerous – for all I knew, the guards might attack me on sight. Athyn hadn’t forbidden me to kill them, but I didn’t want to do that unless I absolutely had to, even if they had been attacking travellers. I finally decided to rely on my Chameleon amulet.

No one spotted me as I ran through the caverns in search of Lord Mandas. Luckily it didn’t take me too long to find him, and he was alone. He was wearing a heavy suit of armour, and looked like he’d once been a powerful warrior, but I noticed that his face looked almost as worn and wrinkled as his father’s. I guess that’s what a complete nervous breakdown followed by months of living in a cave will do to you.

Mandas was pacing up and down in an agitated way, muttering to himself in Dunmeris. His speech was so confused that I could only make out a few words like ‘daughter’ and ‘tower’. I hid myself in an alcove until the spell wore off, and then stepped out to meet him.

“Lord Mandas?” I said softly, not wanting to alarm him. I didn’t know whether he might turn violent. “My name is Ada. Your daughter Delyna sent me here to visit you.”

Mandas slowly turned around to face me. His movements were hesitant, but there was a wild look in his eyes. “Daughter, my daughter, mine,” he said, looking directly at me. “Delyna Mandas. Saint Delyn, a man thus ain’t. Lock it, her locket. Keep it locked up. In her pocket. Who owns that locket?”

Sweet Mara. Athyn hadn’t been kidding when he told me that his friend had gone completely mad. “She’s all right, Lord Mandas,” I said, trying to sound calm and soothing. “I’ve seen her. She’s still alive.”

“Oh, my daughter,” he moaned. “My daughter, would you not listen? Delyna, daughter, so bold. So stupid. Bold and stupid spy…”

I kind of had to agree with him on that, but this wasn’t really the time to say so. “She’s fine,” I stated clearly, taking a step towards him. “Your daughter is safe. Look, she gave me her locket to show to you.” I took the locket from the pouch on my belt and held it out to him.

Arethan stared at my outstretched hands, his eyes fixed on the locket. “My daughter,” he whispered. “Where is she? Her locket... is it? Is she? No! Must know! Can’t bear to know!” His voice was starting to shake.

“She’s safe,” I repeated, looking straight into his eyes. “I rescued her from the tower. She asked me to bring her locket to you to show you that she’s safe.”

“Safe?” Arethan took a hesitant step towards me, and carefully lifted the amulet out of my hands. He cradled it in the palm of his hand for several seconds, staring at it.

“She’s... safe,” he said at last. “So safe. I must be there for her. I must…”

He looked up at me, and for the first time, the frenzied look was gone from his eyes. “Thank you, Ada. I will stop now.” He shook his head. “The attacks on the road. I knew it was wrong… but what could I do? My guards are loyal. Always looking out for me.”

He pottered off, presumably to tell the guards that they shouldn’t attack anyone else from now on. I hoped that extended to me as well. When he returned he was still clutching Delyna’s locket in his hand.

“Yes, my daughter is safe,” he said, nodding vigorously. “I can think in better categories now. Tell Athyn I will order no more attacks on the road out front my house.”

“I’ll tell him,” I promised.

“He should visit me.” Arethan glanced around the dark, dingy cave, and smiled. “The weather is very nice in here. Neither ash nor rain.”

I felt a painful lump in my throat, and had to blink back tears from my own eyes. Poor, poor guy. I hoped his daughter would soon be back to take care of him.

Arethan’s guards regarded me a little suspiciously as I walked back through the cave. None of them said or did anything, but I was still pretty happy to get out of there. As soon as I was back outside, I cast Almsivi Intervention to get back to Ald’ruhn.

Back in Sarethi Manor, I told Athyn the story behind Arethan’s madness, and how I’d managed to cure him of it (well, sort of). He listened to the entire story without saying a word, until I reached the end.

“From what you say, perhaps Arethan has not totally regained his senses, but his guards have stopped demanding tribute from travellers,” he said at last. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “I did not believe it could be done. I am proud of you this day, Ada.”

I felt my face grew hot, and for a few moments I could hardly speak. “It is not usual for a new recruit to be promoted through the ranks so quickly,” he continued, “but I believe you have truly earned the title of House Brother. Congratulations, my friend.”

House Brother? Don’t get me wrong, I was immensely grateful – moved, even – but also a little confused. Shouldn’t that be ‘House Sister’? Well, under the circumstances, it seemed a bit petty to complain.

Before I left the manor, Athyn asked me to come to dinner that night with him and his family. A few weeks ago I’d have been happy about this because it showed I was gaining influence with him – influence which might help me get back to Cyrodiil. Now it made me happy for very different reasons. After a year in jail and two months of exile in a foreign land, where I literally didn’t know anyone at all, even something as simple as an invitation to dinner felt strangely heartwarming.

The only thing left to do now was to go to Llerar Mandas and tell him that his granddaughter and son were safe. The look of joy and relief in his eyes made all the trouble and inconvenience seem almost worth it, even that nightmarish scavenger-hunt through Divayth Fyr’s Corprusarium. After thanking me, he disappeared into a back room and returned carrying a closed ebony helm.

“Please take this helm from all the Mandas family,” he said, grasping my hand firmly. “Know that you have earned an ally in House Redoran.”

An ally on the Grand Council, eh? Well, that could be useful. As for the helm, I usually avoided ebony armour because of its sheer weight, but it certainly did offer excellent protection. Perhaps, if I ever managed to sell Sheogorath’s ring, I could use some of the cash to put a Feather enchantment on it.

Back in Ald’ruhn, I hired a room at the Ald Skar inn and spent the evening preparing for the dinner party. I wore my new clothes in honour of the occasion and spent a longer-than-usual time getting ready, carefully styling my hair and applying make-up. It wasn’t often I got to do this, after all.

Varvur looked mildly stunned when I showed up at Sarethi Manor in the elegant robes I’d bought in Vivec. “Ada!” he stammered. “You look very… nice.”

“So do you,” I replied, feeling myself blush. It was true, actually. Redoran fashions for men were rather plainer and simpler than the Western styles, but in Varvur’s case, it suited him.

Dinner was a cosy family affair, much nicer than my usual meals of bland food in grotty taverns and mess halls. Athyn and his wife chatted to me and asked me questions about my background, which I tried to answer without giving too much away. Varvur didn’t say very much, though I did catch him looking at me closely a couple of times.

The food was pretty good as well. “This is excellent,” I said to Athyn, as I munched my way through a slice of meat pie. “What is it?”

He smiled. “It’s a traditional Redoran recipe. Quite famous, in fact.”

“Really?” I hadn’t realised the Redorans were known for their cooking as well as their combat skills. “So what’s in it?”

“Hound and rat meat, mixed with kwama egg and scuttle.”

I nearly choked on a mouthful of pie. “Rat meat?”

“Yes. Have you never eaten rat before?” I shook my head, fighting a sudden urge to throw up. “The taste is not so good, but it is nutritious, and quite filling.”

“I… suppose so.” My appetite seemed to have disappeared all of a sudden. Varvur buried his face into a napkin, seemingly overcome by a heavy fit of coughing. I strongly suspected that he was trying not to laugh.

Somehow I forced myself to finish up the rest of my plate, and the next course (this time I had the sense not to ask what was in it). I washed it all down with several glasses of the local comberry wine, which was also excellent. In fact, it was so good that I ended up drinking a little too much.

“You know what I really miss about Cyrodiil?” I announced, as the servants were clearing our plates away. “Strawberries.”

“Strawberries?”

“Mmm, strawberries. They’re these little red berries, about this big.” I made a circle with my thumb and forefinger. “They’re expensive, of course, but they taste like the food of the Gods. I wonder if… no, you probably couldn’t import them. They’d go rotten.”

Varvur spoke up for almost the first time that evening. “What is it like, your homeland?”

“Cyrodiil? It’s beautiful,” I said dreamily. “Forests everywhere. There’s probably more trees in the Great Forest than in the whole of Vvardenfell. I miss trees.” I felt a dull ache in my throat.

“Up in the north there are mountains,” I went on, “and it snows almost all year round. And out west, on the Gold Coast, you can walk through these endless fields with miles and miles of… golden…” My voice trailed off as hot tears began to roll down my cheeks.

The Sarethis exchanged worried glances. Domesea was looking at me with a mixture of sympathy and bemusement. “If you love it so much, sera, why don’t you return there?”

“Because I can’t,” I wailed. Now that I’d started crying, I couldn’t seem to stop. “I’m sorry. I… I think I’d better be going.”

Athyn immediately invited me to stay the night in one of the guest rooms, but I didn’t want to trespass on his hospitality any longer. Besides, I’d already paid for a room at the inn. Varvur came over all gentlemanly and offered to walk me back there, but I refused – the last thing I wanted right now was people fussing over me. I mumbled my thanks for the lovely meal and hurried back to the Ald Skar, where I cried myself to sleep.

Awww The end almost made me cry too! -sniff- I love how reading this I can giggle at one point and cry at the next ♥

I always loved Divayth Fyr in "The Mad Lord of Milk." So focused on his own work, he probably just thought that if the Redoran spy wasn't interfering in his work, then things on Nirn were fine and dandy as far as he was concerned.

Fyr's the kind of guy who would only notice that there might be a new Telvanni Tower Stronghold on the island next door when the shad finally started to cause trouble for the plants he cultivates for Corprus research. Otherwise, he'd barely keep track of such things. He's got important, medically intensive research to do.

Reminds me of House, in his own way...

Chapter 25: OK, So Maybe I Really Am The Nerevarine

It wasn’t until I woke up the morning after my meal chez Sarethi – with a splitting headache, naturally – that I remembered I wasn’t supposed to be sleeping in town, for fear of night-time zombie attacks. (“See, Aunt Sybilla, I told you the monsters would come and get me…”) Nothing had happened that night, though. I wondered if there was some reason for this, or if I’d just been lucky.

I had to gulp down a Cure Poison potion – one of the ones I was supposed to be saving for my missions in the wilderness – before I could even think about facing the world again. Memories of last night were resurfacing, and I had a horrible vision of drinking too much and getting all mawkish over Cyrodiil before fleeing the house in tears. Way to impress your Redoran sponsor there, Ada.

When I went up to tavern for breakfast, I was surprised to see Varvur sitting at the bar. He got to his feet as soon as he saw me. “I came here to see you, Ada. Are you all right? I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” I told him, surprised and rather touched. “Just a little hung over, that’s all. Why would you be worried?”

“Last night you seemed a little… upset,” he said carefully. “I thought perhaps you were missing more things than forests and… strawberries.”

I shrugged, trying to make light of it. “Yeah, I was feeling a bit homesick. And drunk, of course. I hope your parents weren’t offended?”

Varvur shook his head. “I think they understand… or at least my father does. He has often told me how homesick he was when he first arrived in Hammerfell.”

We ordered some breakfast, and took it to a table in the corner to eat. I wasn’t really all that hungry, and my stomach lurched whenever I thought of last night’s Rat Surprise, but I did feel a little better once I had some food inside me. A large mug of Hackle-lo tea helped as well.

“Ada, may I ask you a question?” said Varvur, as we were eating. “You said that you could not go back to Cyrodiil, even if you wanted to. Why is that?”

I hesitated. Of course, I’d already told my story to the innkeeper in Seyda Neen on the first day I arrived, but confessing my past crimes to a stranger whom I’d never see again was different from revealing them to a friend and fellow Redoran. And that was without even mentioning all the palaver with the Blades and the Nerevarine prophecies.

“Do you remember when we were walking to Shurinbaal?” I said at last. “And I told you that I had a friend who’d killed someone and been jailed for murder? Well…”

“Ah.” He nodded. “This was you, yes? I thought that might be… but I could not imagine you murdering anyone, even if you were drunk. How did it happen?”

I told him the whole story, as briefly and straightforwardly as possible. “I’m not asking for sympathy, by the way,” I said, when I reached the end. “The guy was an arsehole, but he didn’t deserve to die. I just wish I’d been jailed for the right reasons, that’s all.”

Varvur nodded slowly, thinking over what I had said. “You should have challenged him to a duel. Or your father or brother – ”

“Don’t have either,” I said shortly. “I’ve never met my real family. I don’t even know who they are.”

“Really? You are an orphan, then?”

“Yup.” I explained how I’d been found and adopted as a baby, and my own pet theory as to who my real parents had been. It went something like this: High-born Imperial lady has affair with totally unsuitable Nord commoner. High-born lady’s parents find out and put a stop to it, but not before she becomes pregnant with unwanted b*stard child. Parents abandon poor, innocent baby outside a Temple, where nice kind priests find her and… well, you know the rest.

Varvur listened to the whole thing, shaking his head. “It is so sad,” he said, when I’d finished.

“Why?” I asked in surprise. “I was happy enough with my adoptive parents. You can’t miss what you’ve never had, right?”

“But your family, your ancestors…”

“Hey, if my parents didn’t want me, I’m guessing my ancestors probably don’t either.” I drained my mug of tea. “Anyway, it’s probably time I got going.”

We finished our meal and left the tavern together. “My father told me you would be going away on business,” Varvur said, when we were outside. “How long will you be gone?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe just a few days, maybe longer.”

“Well, in that case…” Suddenly he looked a little shy again. “Before you go, I would just like to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Not just for rescuing me, but for helping me to prove that I have strength and courage.” He took a deep breath. “When I returned from Andasreth, my father told me that I had made him proud. I cannot remember the last time he said this to me.”

Once again I felt a pang of sympathy for the guy. It couldn’t be easy, having to live up to a father whom everyone called ‘the Hope of the Redoran’. “There’s no need to thank me, Varvur,” I told him. “You’ve always had those things; you just needed a chance to show it.”

“And you gave me one.” He took a hesitant step forwards, and for a moment I thought he was about to hug me, but he settled for taking my hand in both of his and squeezing it tightly. “Thank you,” he said again, with a gentle smile, before turning and walking off towards Skar.

I have to admit, that melted my heart into a puddle. Varvur was the sweetest guy I’d ever met, bar none.

It was on that morning that I first began to suspect I was being followed. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but I kept thinking I saw someone, just out of the corner of my eye, who quickly moved away when I turned to look at them directly. It could be that this was the first time it happened, or that it had been happening for a while and I simply hadn’t noticed before. I didn’t know who it could be, either – the Sixth House, or maybe even the Temple? I wasn’t sure which prospect was worse.

At least they couldn’t follow me to the Urshilaku camp, I thought grimly. I decided to return there straight away, even though it wasn’t quite a week since I’d left. I could always spend some time in Gnisis if Nibani needed more time to read the tea leaves, or stare into her crystal ball, or whatever.

I walked into the enclosed courtyard of the Temple, where I could easily see anyone who tried to follow me in, and cast the Recall spell… and cast it again… and again… until at last it actually worked. My skill in Mysticism was very gradually improving, due to all the Intervention spells I’d been casting recently, but progress was painfully slow. What I really needed was a few heavy-duty sessions with one of the Mages’ Guild trainers, but I couldn’t afford it.

The Ashlanders looked only mildly surprised when I suddenly appeared in the middle of the camp. From the amused, dismissive looks on their faces, it seemed that they’d come to see me as eccentric, but harmless. Not exactly flattering, but I guess it was a step up from ‘looting, pillaging Imperial ravager’.

“I am ready to give you my judgement,” Nibani told me, as soon as I entered the yurt.

“Okay?” Suddenly I felt unaccountably nervous.

“The ancestors and stars have given me clear signs,” she said. “The lost prophecies leave no doubt – the Incarnate shall be an outlander. You, blessed by Azura, must lift the seven curses of Dagoth Ur.”

I breathed in deeply. “So… it’s true, then? I am the Nerevarine?”

She didn’t directly answer the question. “Prophecy has shown the seven steps of the Nerevarine’s path, and I have been chosen as your guide for each step on that path. I will read the signs, and show you the way. It is time for you to walk the path of the Seven Visions, and pass the Seven Trials of the Seven Visions.”

Oh, boy. I’d almost forgotten about those. I began to search my pack for a copy of the Seven Visions as Nibani continued speaking.

“You are born on a certain day to uncertain parents,” she said, “so you have passed the first trial. My dreams show me that you also fulfil the second trial. That you have overcome the Curse-of-Flesh is strange enough, but that it should protect you from blight and age is past belief – yet the signs of my dreams are clear. But the third trial is unfulfilled.”

I dug the crumpled piece of paper out of my pack and smoothed it out on the table. “‘In caverns dark Azura’s eye sees,’” I read out loud, “‘and makes to shine the moon and star.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

“In legend there is a shrine to Azura called the Cavern of the Incarnate. There are secrets I may not tell you about this cavern, so do not ask.” Gee, thanks a lot. “As for the moon and star, legend says that Nerevar’s family standard bore this symbol, as I told you before. I think this is the mark of the Nerevarine, but you do not have this mark – so you are not the Nerevarine.”

“Okay… sorry,” I said, pressing a hand to my forehead. “I’m probably just being a bit thick here, but I don’t quite understand. You’re saying I’m not the Nerevarine?”

“As I said, you do not have the moon-and-star mark. So you are not the Nerevarine.”

“But you want me to take these Seven Trials in any case?”

She nodded. I sucked in breath. “So basically the answer is ‘no, not yet, but maybe’?”

“Yes.”

Oh, for crying out loud. Had I really gone to all that trouble bringing Nibani the Lost Prophecies, and waited a week for her to study them, only to hear exactly the same thing she’d told me to start with? All I wanted to know was whether I was the reincarnation of Lord Nerevar Indoril, Dunmer warlord and hero of the First Era. Godsdammit, was that such a difficult question?

“So how do I fulfil the third trial?” I asked, trying to hide my annoyance.

“The mystery of the third trial is not my secret to share. Go to Sul-Matuul, the guardian of our cult, and he shall tell you of it. When you have fulfilled the trial, return to me for guidance on your next steps on the path of the Nerevarine.”

Some ‘wise woman’, I thought, as I made my way to Ashkhan Sul-Matuul’s yurt. It was pretty obvious that she didn’t really have a clue whether I was the Nerevarine or not. All that talk about ancestors and stars was a load of crap – she was probably just hedging her bets in case I really did turn out to be The One.

When I spoke to Sul-Matuul, it seemed that he was still a tiny bit skeptical about me being the Nerevarine – not that I could entirely blame him. “This is a hard thing to believe,” he said. “But Nibani Maesa has spoken to me at length of this, and I have had time to consider. Therefore I shall keep my own counsel, and set before you my own test.”

I might not have Nibani’s gift of foresight, but I had a sudden prophetic vision that I was going to face a lot of these ‘tests’ in the near future. “What kind of test?” I asked, my heart sinking.

“I do not dispute with the wise women,” he said, “but their ways are not the ways of the warrior. Many before have tried the path of the Nerevarine, but all have failed the warrior’s test. You must have strength, courage, and cunning. These things I would test.”

“And what is the warrior’s test?”

“Nearby lies Kogoruhn, the ancient halls of the forgotten house, House Dagoth. In recent time, creatures of the blight have come to dwell there.” His expression darkened. “I myself went there with some brave hunters, but it was a bad place, and I am not ashamed to say I was afraid for myself and my men. If you would have the secret of the Third Trial, you will first bring to me three tokens from dark Kogoruhn: corprus weepings from a corprus beast, a cup with the mark of House Dagoth, and the Shadow Shield.”

“Hang on, corprus weepings? You mean you want the… from their…” Dear Gods, that was probably the most disgusting thing I’d ever heard.

Sul-Matuul nodded. “This will show that you are proof against the disease’s corruption. I have myself seen the cups there, and the Shadow Shield lies on the Tomb of Dagoth Morin, in the lava tunnels deep beneath ruined Kogoruhn. Bring these things to me, and then I will tell you the secret of the Third Trial.”

And so, yet again, I found myself wandering out into the Ashlands in search of a bunch of random items while Mr. Ashkhan sat around in his cosy tent. Seeing on my map that the stronghold of Koguruhn wasn’t all that far from the camp, I decided to walk there, hoping I could reach the place before nightfall. Unfortunately I’d reckoned without something fairly important: ashstorms.

I must have been about half-way to Kogoruhn when I noticed that the wind was picking up. Only minutes later there were clouds of dust swirling around, the sky had turned an ugly red colour, and I realised with mild panic that a Blight storm was imminent. And this time I didn’t have a closed helmet to protect myself from it. What was I going to do?

Telling myself not to panic, I headed for the only shelter in sight: a bunch of tall rocks standing close together. I pulled one of my spare shirts from my pack and wound it tightly around my face so that it covered my eyes, nose and mouth. I could still breathe through the fabric, though not very comfortably. Then I sat down, curled myself into a tight ball, and prepared to wait out the storm.

The candidates for ‘worst day/night of my life’ had been piling up since I arrived in Morrowind, but this one had to be pretty high on the list. For the next few hours, which felt like a week, I sat shivering in the biting wind while ash seeped into every last crevice of my armour, clothing and body. Almost as bad was the knowledge that yet again, I’d nearly got myself into serious trouble by ignoring the dangers of blight storms. You are hard-headed, and ignorant…

By the time the storm died down, it was already too dark to go any further. I huddled up in a ball and went to sleep, knowing my limbs would be frozen and stiff the next morning.

As soon as it got light and I could move again, I gobbled down some food and potions and carried on towards Kogoruhn, eventually reaching it a couple of hours later. From the outside it looked very much like Andasreth, the stronghold I’d visited with Varvur: huge, austere and forbidding. I was about to discover that the inside was a thousand times worse.

Luckily I had the sense to cast a Chameleon enchantment before entering the first of the small, domed buildings on Kogoruhn’s base. If I hadn’t, I’d have immediately attracted the attention of the hideous… thing… that stood inside, half-turned towards me. It was about seven feet tall, entirely shrouded in a cloak apart from its head and spindly hands, with a ‘face’ that consisted entirely of several long, greyish-green tentacles. As soon as I’d finished hyperventilating with terror, I very carefully backed out through the door and closed it behind me.

The second small building housed another ash creature looking exactly like Dagoth Gares, the Sixth House servant in Ilunibi. I could probably have taken him on, but as it happened, I didn’t need to. Lying on a table in plain sight was just what I needed: a jewelled goblet with the mark of House Dagoth on it. I literally just picked it up and slipped it into my pack without being noticed.

As I was leaving the room, I spotted some Daedric words written on the floor in bright-red chalk. When I paused to read the words, I realised that they said ‘The Dreamer is awake’, and a sudden chill ran down my spine.

The first level of Kogoruhn’s main building looked pretty much like the inside of Andasreth, only with a bunch of eerie symbols scrawled on the walls and floor. There weren’t even a lot of enemies around – only a handful of ash creatures and corprus beasts. I managed to pick up some of the weepings from the fleshy sores on their bodies, wrapping them carefully in a piece of cloth without letting any get on my hands. Corprus resistance or not, there was no way I was actually touching that stuff.

As I went lower, however, things began to get scarier. In a large chamber on the next level I found another of those ghoul-creatures resembling Dagoth Gares. He didn’t speak, just attacked me, but afterwards I found a scrawled note pinned to a table with a dagger:

ALL CRIES ARE WAKING!
Whitest White of all White!
Blackest Blacks of all Blacks!
Shame and Son, Sun, and Shadow!

Stronger than gods, brighter than mortals!
Only He is Awake!
Only He is Alive!

It rambled on like this for about six verses before finishing:

I see you with MY EYE!
And all is SILENCE!
I Wake! I Remember!
LORD!

Clearly the authors of the Nerevarine Prophecies didn’t have a monopoly on bad poetry. But it frightened me to think what sort of broken mind could dream up this stuff.

Another level down and things were getting seriously creepy. The stone halls here were bathed in eerie red light, and decorated with more of those huge ash statues, which filled my head with maddening whispers whenever I came near them. Behind several locked doors in one section I found the dead bodies of other adventurers, some of them carrying expensive armour and weaponry. Since none of them held anything like the ‘Shadow Shield’ I was supposed to be looking for, I left them in peace.

But nothing prepared me for coming face to face with another of those tentacled creatures deep in a vault. It spotted me as soon as I walked into the room, and so I had no time to cast a Chameleon enchantment – or any others for that matter. As I froze in fear, the creature let out a rumble of deep, breathy laughter.

“Welcome to Kogoruhn, ‘Nerevar’!” it – or he – said in a mocking tone. “I am Dagoth Ulen, an Ascended Sleeper, and servant of Dagoth Ur.”

I leapt backwards as if I’d been scorched by a firebolt. The creature bent towards me a little, and I noticed several small holes in his head that presumably functioned as eyes. Another deep laugh emerged from somewhere in his bloated body.

“Look! It’s Azura’s Fool!” he taunted me. “Look at you. Not a real thing at all – just a pathetic puppet of prophecy. And you think you can trust the Daedra Lords?”

“Azura’s Fool? What are you talking about?”

Dagoth Tentacles shook his head. “Ah, she’s sucked you in with her pretty prophecies. Promised you power, did she? Promised you justice, did she?”

“Um, no and no,” I said, now genuinely confused. “What ‘pretty prophecies’? All she did when I met her was ask me to fight a bunch of Daedra.”

He laughed. “Mortals are but simple sport to the Daedra Lords. They pull the strings, and you poor fools leap and dance. Why do you serve them? Why do you fall for their honeyed lies?”

“What honeyed lies? Nobody’s told me any honeyed lies! The only thing Azura promised me was a soulgem I didn’t even want in any case!”

“Come on!” he mocked, completely ignoring what I’d just said. “You’re the prophesied Incarnate!” Azura has promised you fame and glory – ”

“No she HASN’T!”

“… so surely you can’t be afraid of me, can you? Don’t be shy. With a Daedra Lord for ally and patron, how could you lose? Oh, please don’t hurt me, star-blessed hero!”

Before he could even finish his last sentence, I stuck my blade right between his eyes. (Well, it worked for Dagoth Gares.) Unfortunately this guy put up a bit more of a fight. As I pulled the blade out of his forehead, he shrugged off the blow as if it were a minor scratch and viciously headbutted me, sending me staggering backwards. A moment later I felt a stinging cloud of poison magicka envelop me, wracking my whole body with agonising pain.

There was no time to take any kind of evasive action. My shield and armour wouldn’t defend me against magicka, so all I could do was stab at him again and again while he countered by blasting me with spells. I could feel myself growing weaker with every blow as the poison did its work. The pain was so intense that I could hardly see.

Finally another staggering blow from Ulen’s head knocked me to the ground. This is it, I thought – I’m dead. I took one last desperate swipe at his ankles, trying to cut his feet off, and to my astonishment he just vanished – literally crumbled into dust, leaving nothing behind but a skull.

I lay on the floor, gasping, almost too weak to move. I was shaking like a leaf, so much that I could hardly even hold the health potion I managed to tip out of my pack. It helped, but it didn’t cure the poison, and I was in no state to root around in my bag for a cure potion right now – if I even had one left after wasting so many on hangovers. I had to keep drinking vial after vial of restoration potions until the poison effect wore off.

That was a bizarre encounter, I thought, as I stumbled out of the room. Bizarre and painful. What the heck was all that about false promises and ‘honeyed lies’? Talos, I only wished people would seduce me with promises of fame and glory rather than “Okay sucker, go and bring me nineteen ash statues from the Foul Zombie-Infested Caverns of Filthiness, and I’ll read you some more of our terrible poetry.”

If Azura really was behind the Nerevarine prophecies – which was what Ulen seemed to be saying – why on Nirn hadn’t she told me about it when I visited her shrine? I mean, the whole ‘being the reincarnation of Nerevar’ thing did seem fairly important. You’d think she’d at least have mentioned it.

The next level down was some kind of sewer or storm drain, filled with canals. There were no Dagoths there, just a few atronachs. To be honest, this was almost a relief after what I’d just been through. If I’d been hoping things would get better from here on, though, I was to be disappointed.

Below the sewers was an underground cave filled with steaming lava pits. The heat was almost unbearable, and what was more, the place was crawling with Daedra and Sixth House creatures. I’d thought the ‘Ascended Sleepers’ were bad enough, but I got the shock of my life when I stumbled across one that looked – I swear to all the Divines – exactly like Dagoth Ur from my dreams. He was grey-skinned, wearing nothing but a loincloth over his strangely shrivelled-looking body, and had claw-like hands with long, pointed fingernails; all that was missing was the golden mask.

For a moment we just stared at each other, sizing each other up. “Are you Dagoth Ur?” I asked at last, knowing that if the answer was ‘yes’, my luck had just run out permanently.

He smiled. “No, I am Dagoth Uthol.”

“Oh good gods, there’s more than one of you?”

“I am the brother of Dagoth Ur.” He shrugged. “He said you would come to us, and he was right. Have you come to submit? Or come to die?”

I hesitated, seeing a tiny chance of possibly getting out of here alive. “If I wanted to submit, how would I do it?”

“Keep going,” he said. “These passages lead under the Ghostfence and into the crater of Red Mountain. Then enter the Mount of Dagoth Ur, and find Lord Dagoth. Make your submission, and perhaps you may join us… if you survive such a journey.”

“And what would I gain, if I ‘made my submission’?”

“Lord Dagoth says you will join us or die,” he said bluntly. “I thought you might just leave us alone, and go about your own affairs – but Lord Dagoth says it is not your way, to leave a thing well enough alone. I do my Lord’s bidding, so go to him and submit. You will be given power and place – and, perhaps, peace and forgiveness.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it,” I said. “Anything else?” He shook his head. “Right. I’ll… just be going then.”

I turned and walked away, fully expecting to get clobbered at any moment, but nothing happened. Had I really just talked a Sixth House demi-god into letting me wander freely through his lair? For an ancient immortal being of incredible power, this guy was remarkably stupid.

I finally found the Shadow Shield, the last item on Sul-Matuul’s shopping list, after defeating another ash ghoul creature. In terms of appearance it was a bit disappointing – just another piece of Dwemer junk, from what I could see – but it looked strong and did have some pretty good enchantments. As soon as I’d picked it up I cast a Recall spell, not wanting to give Dagoth Uthol a chance to change his mind.

When I landed in the Urshilaku camp I was shocked to realise that it was already dark. I’d spent the entire day in Kogoruhn. I couldn’t face hearing about the Third Trial that night, so I went to the trader Kurapli – the closest thing I had to a friend in the camp – and stayed the night in her yurt. She was gracious enough not to mention the fact that I was covered in ash and stank to high heaven.

The next morning, after washing myself as best I could, I went to Sul-Matuul and handed him the three tokens of my visit to Kogoruhn. In fairness I must say that he looked genuinely impressed. He even told me I could keep all of them, though the only one I could possibly have any use for was the Shadow Shield.

“You have passed the Warrior’s Test,” he said, “and I will give you the secret of the Third Trial. You must go to the Cavern of the Incarnate, a place sacred to Azura, and look for the moon and star.”

“But what is the moon and star?”

“The legend of Moon-and-Star is known to all loremasters,” he said. Except his own wise woman, apparently, but what the hell. “The enchanted ring called Moon-and-Star was forged for Nerevar by one of the Dwemer Sorcerer-Priest Kagrenac’s smiths, and blessed by the Daedra Lord Azura. The ring gave Nerevar supernatural powers of persuasion, and any other who tried to wear the ring would be killed instantly. No man but Nerevar may wear that ring and live.”

Ah, so it was a ring! And Azura really was mixed up in this somehow, was she? I guess I might have known.

“So you want me to find it, I take it?” I asked. “To prove that I really am the Nerevarine?”

Sul-Matuul nodded. “The secret of the Cavern of the Incarnate is set in a riddle:

The eye of the needle lies in the teeth of the wind
The mouth of the cave lies in the skin of the pearl
The dream is the door and the star is the key.”

Crap, more riddles. I hated riddles.

Sul-Matuul wouldn’t translate the riddle for me directly, of course – that would have been far too easy. Instead he told me to ‘take counsel of the wisdom of the tribes’, whatever that meant. He also gave me an enchanted belt which symbolised the blessing of the tribe.

After talking to Nibani, and various other people around the camp, I managed to piece together the riddle. It seemed to refer to a rock called ‘the Needle’ in a valley called the Valley of the Wind, east of Red Mountain. Below this rock was the entrance to the Cavern of the Incarnate, which opened only at dusk and dawn – the time when Azura’s Star appeared in the sky.

It might have been possible to walk to the valley from the Urshilaku camp, but there was no way I was going to do that. Instead I teleported back to Gnisis and spent the day happily soaking in a bath, before travelling back to Ald’ruhn by silt strider. I stored away the Shadow Shield, then bought several Rising Force potions from an alchemist and went to Vivec to use the Stop the Moon shrine (bring careful to avoid the priestess this time). Then I teleported to Sadrith Mora, the city nearest the valley, and flew north-west from there.

When I reached the Valley of the Wind, I could certainly see how it got its name. The wind whistling through it was relentless and almost unbearably loud. When I saw a small group of Ashlander tents below, I couldn’t understand how they could live in this place without going mad. I heard them yell at me as I flew overhead, and stuck my tongue out at them.

Unfortunately, by the time I finally managed to find the cavern entrance – an ancient-looking door, carved with moon and star symbols – it was past dusk. All I got was a voice saying that the door would not open and “the star is the key”.

Sighing, I settled down to wait out the night, and at dawn the next day I finally managed to enter the cavern. It was large and roughly circular, lit by the glow of luminous mushrooms, and filled with enormous stalagmites and stalactites. In the centre was a huge stone bust of Azura, her head slightly bent, as if she were looking down at something in her cupped hands. I shivered as I noticed several mummified bodies seated on the floor around her – was this what had become of other adventurers who’d stumbled upon the cavern?

As I walked closer, I saw a glint of metal in her outstretched hands. When I stood in front of the statue I could see what it was: a tiny ring, exquisitely carved and glowing faintly, with a small symbol of a silver moon and yellow star. So, at least one aspect of the prophecies was true: there really was a Moon-and-Star ring.

Suddenly I was scared. Really scared. If there was nothing in the prophecy, or if I really was Nerevar reborn – and I still couldn’t quite believe that – I’d nothing to fear either way. But if the legend was true, and I wasn’t the Incarnate, then I’d be killed – instantly. And, well… everything I’d been told so far had turned out to be true…

Well, here goes nothing, I thought. Taking a deep breath, I removed my gauntlet, scooped up the ring and slipped it onto my finger.

There was a blinding flash of light. For a moment I thought I must be dead – and then, I heard a voice.

“Nerevar Reborn, Incarnate!”

I cringed backwards, shielding my eyes. Azura’s voice, clear and powerful, echoed round the cavern. “Your first three trials are finished; now, two new trials lie before you. Seek the Ashlander Ashkhans, and the Great House Councils. Four tribes must name you Nerevarine; three Houses must name you Hortator.”

As she spoke, visions swirled before my eyes: towns, cities, Ashlander camps, and a brief glimpse of a golden-skinned figure inside a temple. I stood, transfixed.

“My servant Nibani Maesa shall be your guide. And when you are Hortator and Nerevarine, when you’ve stood before the False God and freed the heart from its prison, heal my people and restore Morrowind. Do this for me, and with my blessing.”

The vision faded, and the echoes died away. I clasped my hands together, staring at the Moon-and-Star ring on my finger, and slowly sank to the ground.

“Well,” I said shakily. “I guess I really am the Nerevarine.”

I find myself concentrating on any interchanges between Ada and Varvur to gather any clues to when certain things begin to transpire, lol.

Followed by a "Mother F---."

I liked the run-in with the Ash Vampire, and the quick use of wordplay by our talkative Imperial Heroine to get out of that one. I admit I was always of the "whack-a-mole" mindset, but hey, to each his/her own.

Although like you, I wonder if Sul-Matuul and Nibani have some form of "The First Rule of the Nerevarine Cult is, you do not talk about the Nerevarine Cult" thing going on.

When I saw a small group of Ashlander tents below, I couldn’t understand how they could live in this place without going mad. I heard them yell at me as I flew overhead, and stuck my tongue out at them.


Now....that's the Ada we all know and love!!!



I've read this once and I'll read it again
all to the glory of Helena the Dame!

Some screenshots from the last few chapters:

Leading the way to Andasreth
All dressed up for dinner with the Sarethis
I feel so small...

And onto the next chapter...

Chapter 26: The Ancestor's Tale

I don’t know how long I just sat there, my mind a whirl, staring vacantly at the ring on my finger. I was the Nerevarine. It was true. It was all true, and yet it sounded as insane as ever.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered to the statue of Azura, but there was no answer. She was gone.

Had she really said that I would have to go right into Red Mountain? And personally confront Dagoth Ur, face to face, man to… er, woman? How in the name of all the Divines was I supposed to do that? He was a god, for crying out loud!

“Calm down, Ada,” I mumbled to myself. “Okay, so you’re the Nerevarine. That means you have to fulfil the prophecies. No matter how crazy and impossible it may seem, you can’t fail, so there has to be some way to – AAAAAAH!”

I nearly jumped out of my skin as I realised, for the first time, that the room was filled with semi-transparent figures. There were six of them, all Dunmer, each standing beside one of the mummified bodies by Azura’s statue. None of them spoke or moved; they just stood there, staring at me.

I got slowly to my feet and turned to the nearest of the hazy figures, a young red-haired girl in ragged clothing. She and the others were ghosts – or so I guessed – yet they didn’t look like the usual sort of ghosts I’d seen in tombs or the occasional cavern. They looked just like normal people, only… see-through.

“Welcome, Incarnate, Moon-and-Star Reborn, Hortator, Nerevarine, Mourner of the Tribe Unmourned, Redeemer of the False Gods,” she said, as I stood there gaping at her like some kind of halfwit. “I am Peakstar. I was not the one, but I wait and hope. Ask, and I shall answer, if wisdom guides me.”

Peakstar? That name sounded familiar somehow. “Who are you?” I croaked. “What are you doing here?”

“I am Peakstar,” she repeated. “I was called to the prophecies, but I was not the one.”

“‘Not the one’?”

She shook her head. “I survived the blight, but I fell in battle with an Ash Vampire. I could not master the arts of war; nor could I learn the ways of the Great Houses. They would not have accepted me as Hortator.”

Suddenly I remembered where I’d heard the name ‘Peakstar’ before: she was the Ashlander girl who’d claimed to be the Nerevarine, and had mysteriously disappeared several decades earlier. And as I thought about this, and what it had to mean, a truly dreadful realisation began to creep over me. “You mean… these are all failed Nerevarines?”

Peakstar nodded. “I am a failed Incarnate. So are all these who remain here with me in the Cavern of the Incarnate.”

Talos help me, it all made sense now. Of course I couldn’t be the first reincarnation of Nerevar – he’d died in the First Era, and I was only born twenty-three years ago. Even with the Dunmers’ long lives, there had to have been plenty of other ‘Incarnates’ since then. I wasn’t anything special at all, just the latest in a long line.

“So this means I could fail as well?” I asked, feeling a cold sense of dread seep through me.

Peakstar shook her head gravely. “You are the Nerevarine. You are the Incarnate. You are the one. You must not fail.”

“But how can I possibly – ”

“You bear the Moon-and-Star, the ring of Nerevar,” she interrupted. “None may deny: you are Nerevar Reborn, the prophesied Incarnate. The Temple will know you as an enemy, Ordinators will mark you for death, and the Tribunal Faithful of the Great Houses will hate and fear you. The doubters of the Tribes will test your strength and doubt your honour. You must prepare, and be ready.”

Oh, wonderful. This was sounding better and better all the time. Maybe it was time to give that ‘stowing away to Cyrodiil inside a cargo crate’ idea another chance.

I took a deep breath. “What about Dagoth Ur? What do you mean by ‘the Tribe Unmourned’?”

“Pity Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House,” she said solemnly. “All they do, all they are is foul and evil, but they began in brightness and honour, and the cause of their fall was their loyal service to you, Lord Nerevar.”

“But – ”

“You told Lord Dagoth to guard the profane tools beneath Red Mountain, and thus he was tempted. He did your bidding when he tried to keep these tools from the Tribunal, and so he hates you, who betrayed him, and the Tribunal, who mocked his honour, attacked him, and stole the profane tools for their own use.”

I didn’t see any point in trying to argue. “OK, fine,” I said wearily. “Yes, it was all my fault. Whatever. Is there anything at all you can do to help me?”

“Here, take these few poor things,” she said, and a pile of clothes appeared in her arms, seemingly from nowhere. “They are of no use to me.”

Gingerly I took the clothes from Peakstar’s arms. There was an embroidered belt, and a pair of disgustingly dirty and stained pants which nevertheless had a useful-looking Levitation enchantment. Perhaps, if I washed them about twelve times first, I could actually find a use for them. Though hopefully not too often – I could just imagine myself struggling into the damn things every time I wanted to visit a Telvanni tower.

I went round to each of the ancestor ghosts in turn, and one by one they recited their tales of woe while piling my arms high with goodies: a mace, an axe, a couple of books, an enchanted robe and cuirass. By the time I reached the last one, my arms were so full that I could barely walk.

“I’ll just leave some of this stuff here for the moment, guys,” I said, staggering into a corner and dumping everything except the robe, belt, pants and books. “I can come and pick it up later, OK?” None of them seemed to care.

Rather than return to the Urshilaku camp immediately, I decided to go back to Ald’ruhn via Sadrith Mora. This was all getting a bit overwhelming, and I needed some time to think before I decided what to do next. The ghosts watched impassively as I struggled to cast Divine Intervention, probably thinking “Oh gods, the latest one can’t even cast a bloody Intervention spell. Looks like we’re going to be here for another few decades.”

I still couldn’t get over the fact that I was the reincarnation of Nerevar. What did it even mean, exactly? Did it mean that I didn’t have a soul of my own, just an ancient Indoril warlord’s soul inside me somewhere? I didn’t like that idea at all. Or, worse, did it mean that at some point I’d suddenly turn into Nerevar?

I glanced down hastily, and was relieved to see that my body at least had kept its usual shape. It might not be perfect, but I was kind of attached to it.

In any case, before I started getting all philosophical, I had more practical concerns to worry about. Firstly and most importantly: I was starting to run out of cash. The money Caius had left me had been very useful, but I’d already spent most of it by this point. I hadn’t received any payment for my services to House Redoran and the Legions, and I’d actually lost money on my last Fighters’ Guild job.

I’d have to take more missions for the Guild, I thought. But if I was going to do that, I really needed to have a talk with Percius Mercius first.

From Wolverine Hall I took the Guild Guide to Ald’ruhn, where an ash storm was raging – was it just me, or were they getting more and more frequent lately? – and went to see Percius in the Fighters’ Guild. He greeted me with a smile. “Good to see you again… Defender, is it? I heard from Lorbumol in Vivec.”

“That’s right.”

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said, and then winked. “But I hear you’ve been busy with… other things.”

My heart almost stopped. “Other… things?”

His smile grew wider. “Folks say you and young Varvur Sarethi have been seeing quite a lot of each other lately.”

“Varvur?” I nearly burst out laughing, caught between relief and astonishment. “Me and Varvur Sarethi? Are you kidding?”

“It’s not true, then?”

“Of course not.” I shook my head in disbelief. “I mean, we’ve been on a few missions together, but… you can’t be serious. Don’t you think he’s a bit out of my league?”

He laughed. “You can’t have been in Ald’ruhn very long. From what I hear of Varvur, you wouldn’t be the first young outlander woman he’s been involved with.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said sourly. “So people are saying I’m his latest ‘bit of rough’, are they?” Could you even use that phrase to describe a woman? Well, at least it was better than having people think I was shacked up with bloody Caius Cosades.

“I don’t think that’s what they meant,” he said. “But anyway, what are you here for? Need more work?”

I drew a deep breath. “Before you give me any more work, I think you need to explain to me what’s going on in the Guild. I’m starting to get worried.”

Percius screwed up his face. He mulled it over for a moment, scratching his head. “Tell you what,” he said at last. “Go do some work for Hrundi in Sadrith Mora – he’s a good man, and you can trust him. When you’re a Guardian, come back and talk to me again, and I’ll tell you what I know. I’ve been impressed with your work so far.”

As I left the Guild, I found myself thinking over what Percius had said about Varvur Sarethi. I wasn’t deaf or blind, and I certainly had suspected that Varvur might have a teensy tiny little crush on me – but it had never occurred to me to imagine it could actually lead to anything. He was quite good-looking, now that I thought about it, though maybe a little young for m- hang on, what was I thinking? Even if he’d been the embodiment of my ideal man, there was no way I could start a love affair with the son of my Redoran sponsor.

It was probably for the best, I thought. Even in the unlikely event that the Sarethis approved of me dating their son, they’d probably want me to marry him and start popping out babies. I wasn’t ready to settle down yet – I was a career girl. I had absolutely no desire to swan around all day in a palatial mansion, dressed only in the finest silks and satins, eating three- or four-course dinners every night, with a houseful of servants on hand to attend to my every whi- well, maybe it wouldn’t be quite so bad to be a nobleman’s wife…

I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind, but annoyingly, I couldn’t stop thinking about it now that Percius had put the idea in my head. I remembered the pretty Bosmer girl I’d seen in Sarethi Manor, and wondered if she was Varvur’s girlfriend. Certainly the way they’d acted around each other suggested that there was something between them.

A good monster-killing expedition was just what I needed to distract me from my hopeless love life, and Hrundi, the burly Nord in charge of the Sadrith Mora Fighters’ Guild, had one ready and waiting. Apparently a woman named Larienna Macrina needed some help clearing necromancers out of a Dwemer ruin. When he showed me where it was on my map, I calculated that I’d just have time to fly out there before yesterday’s Levitation spell wore off.

I left the hall and flew south until I reached the Dwemer ruin of Nchurdamz, not too far from the Shrine of Azura. A tough-looking Imperial woman, dressed in a Legion uniform, had set up camp just outside the entrance. She waved at me as I flew down to meet her. “Ho there, good friend!”

“Hello,” I said. “Are you Larienna Macrina?”

She nodded. “You’re one of Hrundi’s band, aren’t you? I can spot you a mile off. I’ve been waiting for some time now for assistance, but I suppose you will have to do.”

‘You will have to do’? She had some bloody nerve, speaking to me like that. “Are you in the Legion, by any chance?” I asked sharply.

“No. I was once, but I left some time ago.” Ah.

“I’m on a quest to root out a great beast dwelling within these ruins,” she went on. “You and I will explore together.”

What? Hrundi had told me we were going after necromancers. “Hold on, a ‘great beast’? I thought – ”

“I have scoured the world over hunting a Daedroth named Hrelvesuu with whom I have had… issues… in the past. When last we battled, I struck her a blow so grievous that she fled via spell to her dark sanctuary. This is that place.” Larienna gritted her teeth. “She is weak, and likely recuperating from the damage I caused her. This place is well defended and I need someone to watch my back. You can have whatever ‘treasure’ you can find in there – I seek only vengeance. What say you?”

My heart sank as I saw the crazed gleam in her eye. I didn’t like getting involved in personal vendettas, for all sorts of reasons, but now that I was here I couldn’t exactly turn back. “All right,” I said, stifling a sigh.

“Then let’s go. Remember, let me know if you require aid – you watch my back and I’ll watch yours. Take point and root out the threats.”

“What sort of threats do you think we’ll face?”

“Dwemer centurions, mainly. Have you ever fought one before?” I shook my head. “Well, you’ll soon get used to it, haha. Oh… and Hrelvesuu, of course. Remember, the treasure is yours – but she is mine.”

The large room inside the entrance to Nchurdamz looked like it had once been some kind of dining hall. The first thing I saw was a sort of huge mechanical spider, scuttling across the floor on six spindly legs. It’s a good thing I’d seen Dwemer constructs before, otherwise I’d have been utterly terrified at being attacked by a giant metal spider. I froze, unsure how to tackle one of those things with a sword, until Larienna stepped forward and fried it with a powerful blast of shock magicka.

Almost immediately, a large metal ball in the corner of the room unfolded itself into a Centurion and came rolling towards us. “Attack the joints,” Larienna called from behind me. “Those are the weakest parts.”

As the Centurion lunged at me with a club-like arm, I dodged around it and chopped at the exposed shoulder joint with my sword. A couple of hefty blows cleaved its arm from its shoulder in a shower of sparks. Wasting no time, I slashed at its neck from behind, severing the head from its body and causing it to collapse in what looked strangely like death throes. I’d have been creeped out if I’d had time to think about it.

Larienna and I advanced through the Dwemer ruin, fighting off more of the strange mechanical guardians as we went. It felt strange to be taking orders again, but Larienna was a competent fighter despite her unhealthy obsession with Hrelv… er, the Daedroth. “I can smell the stench of the Daedroth,” she hissed, as we moved deeper into the complex. “It is here, and I will find it!”

Down a flight of steps, we came across a room with the obligatory open lava pool in the middle. (It made me wonder what on Nirn they used those things for, and how many Dwemer kids had lost their lives accidentally falling into them.) The entrance was guarded by an extra-large Centurion, which puffed steam as it walked and took a heavy beating from both of us before it went down. But the only thing we found in the room was a rusty key inside an old chest.

Down a passage off to the right, and up another stairway, was a round metal door which was locked and magically trapped. When I pressed my ear against the door, I could hear strange snuffling sounds from the room beyond it. Larienna clapped a hand on my shoulder, making me jump.

“The beast is near now – very near,” she whispered. “Be on your guard.”

I still couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a bad idea, but I shrugged it off as best I could, and took the key we’d found earlier from my pouch. Very carefully, I slid it into the lock and turned it as quietly as possible. It worked; the door slid open – and that was when Larienna completely lost her head.

The Daedroth Hrelvesuu was standing in a corner of the room, facing away from us. With a little care we might have taken her down without her even realising we were there – but that was far too subtle for Larienna, apparently. “Hrelvesuu, I have come for you!” she roared, shoving me aside just as I was starting to creep through the door. “Show yourself!”

Before I had the chance to ask her what the hell she thought she was doing, I heard her yell out the words to a spell. A massive bolt of shock magicka crackled through the air, hitting everything within a ten-foot radius – me included. The force of the blast literally knocked me to the ground.

Moaning with pain, I rolled away to the side – as far away from Larienna as possible – and lay there, curled up into a tight ball, as she and Hrelvesuu lobbed spells at each other. My hands, arms and legs felt numb, and I could barely even hear the sounds of battle over the ringing in my ears.

At long last the booms and crashes died down a bit, and I realised that someone had probably won the fight. I cautiously opened my eyes to see Larienna standing over me. “Oops,” she said. “Sorry.”

“You idiot!” I growled, struggling into a sitting position. “You could have killed me!”

“I’m very sorry. I got a little… carried away.” Sheesh, that was the understatement of the decade. “Would you like me to heal you?”

“No!” I didn’t want her casting any more spells anywhere near me, thank you very much. “I’ll do it myself.” I tried to cast a healing spell, but I could still hardly move my fingers. “Sod it, I’ll take a potion.”

The one good thing to come out of that mission to Nchurdamz was the treasure I found there in Hrelvesuu’s lair. The crates and barrels lining the walls contained several valuable gems, which would fetch quite a lot from an alchemist. Once we’d cleaned out the room, Larienna and I parted company – apparently she ‘felt uneasy’ about something or other and wanted to investigate the ruins further. I was quite happy to let her.

I teleported back to Sadrith Mora and handed in Larienna’s report to Hrundi, who paid me 500 septims and promoted me to Warder – just one rank below Guardian. He had some more missions for me in the towns of Vos and Tel Mora, up on the north-eastern coast, but I didn’t fancy making the six-day round trip again right now. After selling my gems to a Mages’ Guild alchemist I had nearly 1,000 septims in all, easily enough to tide me over for the next few weeks.

Following a hot bath and a good night’s sleep in Wolverine Hall, I woke up feeling a lot calmer and less overwhelmed. I was just about ready to face Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa again and tell them the… well, I hoped they would see it as good news. It would be a bit embarrassing if I walked in there proudly showing off my Moon-and-Star ring, only for them to go, “Crap, you don’t mean you’re SERIOUS?”

I Recalled to the Urshilaku camp, and was glad to find that the weather there was clear for once, though it was cold and overcast. As I walked through the camp, I spotted a familiar face – the guy who’d made me grub up trama root for him on my first visit to the camp. He smiled at me, but once again I could see a hint of mockery in his eyes.

“I hear rumours, favoured guest,” he said in a low voice, falling into step beside me. “I hear the Outlander earns honour and hospitality of the tribe. I hear the Outlander makes claim to be named ‘Nerevarine’.”

“And?”

He shook his head. “The people respect their ashkhan and wise woman. But these are strange tidings, and hard to believe.”

It’s not often you get such a perfect opportunity for revenge. I could hardly keep myself from grinning as I removed my left gauntlet and casually stretched out my hand, showing off the Moon-and-Star on my finger. “This mean anything to you?”

For a moment he just stared at it blankly, and then, slowly, the colour began to drain from his face. “The Moon-and-Star,” he said hoarsely. “Then… then the stories are true. But how can you…” I could see him trying to grapple with the ludicrous notion that an outlander, an Imperial outlander, could actually be the Nerevarine.

“You know what, Shabinbael?” I said, suddenly remembering his name. “I don’t know why, but I have this strange craving for trama root all of a sudden. Perhaps you could go and dig some up for me?”

His face was an absolute picture. “I – Of course, Clanfriend.”

Bwahaha. It was mean, I know, but I just couldn’t resist. Ah, sweet sweet revenge.

By contrast, Nibani Maesa’s reaction was surprisingly calm. All she did was examine the ring, and ask me to describe what I’d seen and heard in the Cavern of the Incarnate. “It is as I have seen in my dream,” she said, when I’d explained everything. “It is a true dream, sent from Azura to guide me.”

“So what do I do now?”

“You must go to Ashkhan Sul-Matuul to be named Urshilaku Nerevarine. I am confident that he will approve you, but I am sure he has things he wishes to say beforehand.”

Nibani turned to be right about that. Sul-Matuul might have been skeptical up to now, but all that vanished instantly the moment I showed him the ring. “You wear the Moon-and-Star of Nerevar. This is a true sign. This is a miracle, a blessing of Azura, and no man may deny it.”

“So you’d be willing to declare me the Nerevarine?”

He nodded. “You have passed the Third Trial, but the Fourth and Fifth Trials lie before you. I have spoken with Nibani Maesa, and I know these Trials. You wish to be called Urshilaku Nerevarine – but first, would you hear the counsel of Sul-Matuul?”

I needed all the help I could get, frankly. “Okay.”

“Good. First, I would give you warning. When you are called ‘Nerevarine’, the word must spread, and many must hear. Your enemies will hear, and come seeking your blood. And such friends as you may have among the Great Houses, those who heed the words of the Temple, they may forget their love for you. If you have business with the People of the Houses and Temple, you may wish to conduct that business first, before you are named Nerevarine.”

I winced, remembering that Peakstar had said the same thing. “What sort of business do you mean?”

“The Fourth Trial is to join the three Great Houses of Vvardenfell under one Hortator. You must be named Hortator in turn by Houses Redoran, Hlaalu, and Telvanni.”

‘Hortator’? I’d heard that word before. “Forgive my ignorance, Ashkhan… but what exactly is a Hortator?”

“A Hortator is a war leader. When a greater enemy threatens, the Great Houses put aside their quarrels and choose a Hortator, a single war leader to lead all the Houses. Only a Great House council can name a Hortator, and all councils must agree.”

My mouth fell open. “You want me to ask the Great House councils to make me their war leader?”

Sul-Matuul nodded. “Prove to them that Dagoth Ur threatens. When you are named Redoran Hortator, Hlaalu Hortator, and Telvanni Hortator, only then will you be the Hortator named in prophecy.”

“Anything else?” I gasped, fighting back a wave of hysteria. What would I be asked to do next: travel to the moons and back? Take on a Daedric Prince in single combat? Persuade an Imperial tax official to grant me a rebate?

“The Fifth Trial is to join the four tribes of the Ashlanders under the Nerevarine. They must put aside pride and tribal squabbles and together face the blighted hosts of Dagoth Ur. The Urshilaku shall name you Nerevarine, but the others may be more cautious.” He let this sink in. “Do you wish me to call you Nerevarine?”

I was about to say “no”, remembering what he’d said about finishing my business with the Houses first, when I remembered that I’d just told Shabinbael my secret out of pure spite. No doubt it’d be all over the camp by now – and while the Urshilaku probably didn’t get out much, it couldn’t be too long before the story reached the cities as well. Talos, what a f*cking idiot I was.

Well, might as well get it over with. “Yes, Ashkhan,” I said quietly. “I would like you to name me Nerevarine.”

“So be it,” he said, a solemn expression on his face. “Before my hearth and kin, and before the People of the Wastes, I name you Urshilaku Nerevarine, War Leader of the Urshilaku, and Protector of the People. In token of this I give you the Teeth, which shall be a sign to all Dunmer that you are the Nerevarine, and that the Urshilaku shall follow you in all things, even unto death, until the Enemy is defeated, or you are dead, or you give this back into my hand.”

He laid an enchanted necklace of made of teeth around my shoulders. “You shall be Nerevarine of all the tribes, and Hortator of all the Great Houses,” he continued. “You shall eat the sin of the unmourned house, and free the false gods. You must defeat the Sixth House, and Dagoth Ur. You must free the Tribunal from their curse. This shall be your duty as Urshilaku Nerevarine.”

Five minutes later I wandered out of the tent, feeling like I’d been hit over the head with the flat of Sul-Matuul’s battle axe. What was I going to do now? How was I even supposed to start the task of persuading every House and Ashlander tribe in Morrowind to declare me their war leader? And even supposing I somehow managed that, what was I going to do when they expected me to actually go and confront Dagoth Ur?

I tried to picture myself as a messiah figure, uniting the tribes of Morrowind under a single banner, boldly defying the might of the Dunmer authorities in defence of my beliefs. It wasn’t easy, I must say.

Shabinbael approached me as I walked to the edge of the camp, handfuls of grubby roots in each hand. “Here is the trama root you asked for, Nerevarine.”

“Um?” I said. “Oh, er, yes. Thanks.” I took the roots from him and wandered off to cast an Almsivi Intervention spell, still in a daze.

As I rode the silt strider from Gnisis to Ald’ruhn that night, I decided that there was only one thing to do: go to Athyn Sarethi and confess everything. Well, nearly everything. It was a risky move – for all I knew, he might go straight to the Temple to report me as a False Incarnate – but he did owe me a favour, and he was the closest thing I had to a mentor now that Caius was gone. And if anyone could help me get started on the near-impossible task of becoming Redoran Hortator, it was him.

The first thing I did when I got back to Ald’ruhn was teleport to Vivec and go to my bank, where I collected Azura’s Star from my deposit box. My reasoning was that if I showed it to Athyn, to prove that I was on friendly terms with Azura, he might be more willing to believe my Nerevarine tale. As I walked through Vivec, once again I had that uncomfortable feeling of being watched. Maybe I really was going mad, I thought – after all, if anyone ever had an excuse…

I deposited some of the money I’d earned and then returned to Ald’ruhn, where I walked up to Skar to visit Athyn. My heart was thumping violently, and by the time I reached the door of Sarethi Manor, I was starting to seriously doubt whether this was a good idea.

How did I know I was the Nerevarine? Because Azura had told me. But how could I be sure she was telling the truth? I wouldn’t normally pay much attention to the ravings of a giant tentacle monster, but I couldn’t help remembering what Dagoth Ulen had said about the Daedra Lords, and their habit of screwing around with mortals for their own amusement.

I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. A servant let me in and escorted me to Athyn, who was in his study. “Ah, you’ve returned!” he said, rising to greet me with a smile. “But you look very pale, Ada. Are you unwell?”

“No, I’m fine, I just… Athyn, what can you tell me about Azura?”

“The Lady of Twilight?” He frowned. “The Temple calls her one of the Good Daedra, and indeed, it is said she is the only one who shows compassion to her mortal followers. But I fear that like the other Princes, she is not to be trusted. Why are you asking me this?”

I hesitated, wondering where to begin. “You have cause to fear her?” Athyn said gently, his eyes fixed on my face. “You think you have displeased her somehow, perhaps?”

“No, not at all,” I said. “Quite the opposite, actually. Look, maybe I’d better start at the beginning.”

I told him all about my visit to Azura’s shrine, the task she’d asked me – okay, commanded me – to perform for her, and how she’d rewarded me with her Star. Although he didn’t say anything, I’m not sure he actually believed me until I took the Star out of my pack and showed it to him. He looked at it for a long time, turning it over in his hands and stroking the surface.

“I see,” he said at last. “Well, my friend, it would seem you have the Lady’s favour. I suggest you take care not to lose it.”

“But the thing is, there’s more. Lots more.” I could feel my heart fluttering wildly. “I – ”

Suddenly I began to feel very strange. My first thought was that I must be sickening for something, the second that the floor suddenly seemed a lot closer than usual. I think I must actually have blacked out for a few seconds, because the next thing I knew I was sitting in a chair with a worried-looking Athyn staring down at me.

“Ada, you are not well. You are exhausted. What have you been doing these past few days?” He laid a hand on my shoulder. “Go home, and go to bed. Whatever you have to tell me can wait until tomorrow.”

“No, no, it can’t. It’s important.” I tried to get up out of the chair, but my limbs seemed to have turned to jelly all of a sudden. Ye gods, I really was exhausted.

I reached for my pack, which had fallen to the ground, and groped around for a stamina potion. Athyn watched in concern as I lifted it to my lips with both hands and gulped down the contents. “What, then, is so important?”

I had no idea if Athyn had even heard of the Nerevarine prophecies, but there was only one way to find out. Wordlessly I held up my hand to him, my fourth finger slightly raised, letting the Moon-and-Star sparkle in the light.

Athyn’s brows shot up, and I heard him draw in breath sharply. He took my hand and lifted it up so that he could examine the ring more closely. I could only hope he’d realise it was an ancient relic, not just a fake knocked up by some dodgy enchanter.

“The moon and star,” he murmured. “The mark of Nerevar.”

“That’s right.” I closed my eyes and clasped my hands together on the desk, preparing for the worst. “Athyn… I think I may be the Nerevarine.”

I'm only a few chapters in (woefully behind), but I'm loving the story Helena.

Ah the Travel Stained Pants. One wonders just what types of stains are found in them. As well as understanding the practical applications for a God's Fire spell...

The fight with Hrelvesuu was just as agonizing as I remember it. One of the moments in Morrowind deserving of a Picard-Double-Facepalm.



And lastly, dropping the hammer on Athyn Sarethi. Even when I played a Telvanni, it was always awkward telling him "Yeah, I'm totally here to destroy your Temple. But it's okay, since I'm also the only guy that can save your collective posteriors."

This post has been edited by Captain Hammer: Jan 15 2011, 05:42 PM

I'm torn as to which is my fave between these two screenies - I guess "Leading the way to Andasreth" wins because I have never seen it before. Ada ROCKS!!



Leading the way to Andasreth

I feel so small...

Bwahaha. It was mean, I know, but I just couldn’t resist. Ah, sweet sweet revenge.

Bet you're that way in Real life, too, Helena!!!

Oh, but isn't that always how it works? It feels so good at first but always seems to come back to bite -sigh-

Great chapter, as usual

Chapter 27: The Go-Between

There was a long silence. I opened my eyes to see Athyn staring down at me, his expression impossible to read.

“Very well,” he said at last. “Tell me your story.”

So I told him, right from the beginning. About the strange visions of Dagoth Ur, the bizarre side effects of corprus disease, the Dissident Priests, the Third Trial, and the Cavern of the Incarnate. I told him about my visits to the Ashlanders, and showed him the prophecies of the Stranger and the Seven Visions and the Lost Prophecies, as well as the tokens the Urshilaku had given me. And I told him what Sul-Matuul had told me, about needing to become Hortator and Nerevarine of every House and tribe on Vvardenfell.

And Athyn just listened, quietly, as always. I kept expecting him to start yelling for the guards, but he barely spoke except to ask me to go on.

“I know it all sounds completely insane and unbelievable,” I finished, close to tears. “I spent weeks and weeks telling myself that none of this could possibly be true, but I can’t help it – it is true. And I had to tell you, because… well, if you don’t believe me, who will?”

There was an agonisingly long pause. I cringed, waiting for the inevitable outburst. And then Athyn said, “I believe you.”

“You... you do?” I could hardly breathe.

He nodded. “I believe, at least, that you have told me the truth. And that you are sincere in believing yourself to be the Nerevarine. But, Ada…” He sighed. “I must tell you that others will not be so easily convinced. You must know that the Temple regards all such claims as blasphemy.”

“I know,” I whispered.

“And as for the tasks you face, uniting the Houses… I cannot see how to achieve this. There may, perhaps, be a way for you to become Redoran Hortator… but the Hlaalu and Telvanni? They surely would never appoint a Redoran to that position.”

Another seemingly endless silence followed. “What shall I do?” I asked, in a small voice.

“Firstly, I think you should tell no one else about this. Concentrate on your duties to Redoran, and to the Legion and guilds, if you wish. The higher you rise in the House, and the greater your reputation, the easier it will be to convince the other Councillors.” I nodded. “The story must spread, of course, but it will certainly be best if you can first gain the support of the House.”

“What do I need to do to rise in the House?”

“To become a House Father, you must earn the support of at least two of the Councilmen. And you must also build a stronghold.”

I blinked. “A stronghold?”

“A stronghold.”

I stared at him in bewilderment, wondering whether we understood the same thing by the word ‘stronghold’. “You mean… an actual stronghold? With… walls, and guards, and… stuff?”

“Yes, my friend, that sort of stronghold.”

Maybe it was Athyn who’d gone mad, not me. What did he expect me to do, dig one out with my bare hands? “I’m not wealthy, Athyn,” I said. “You do know that, don’t you? Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to have my own stronghold, but…”

He nodded sympathetically. “I understand, muthsera, but it is necessary for your advancement in the House. I’m not sure how much it will cost, but you should speak with Galsa Gindu in the Council hall; she can contract to build strongholds. As for the Councillors, I would start by speaking with Mistress Brara Morvayn and Hlaren Ramoran.”

“Where can I find them?”

“Mistress Morvayn moved into temporary quarters in the Redoran Council Hall after blighted creatures attacked her manor and killed her husband. And Hlaren Ramoran’s manor is between my home and the entrance to Skar.” He smiled. “He has a temper, especially with foreigners, but he trusts my judgement. I believe I can convince him to support us.”

For the first time since being declared Nerevarine, I felt my heart lift a little. Us. We were a team, Athyn and I.

“Okay, I’ll do that,” I said. “And Athyn… thank you. Thank you so much for believing me, and for helping me. I just don’t have words to…” Oh gods, I was crying again.

“You rescued my son. I have not forgotten.” He laid a hand on my shoulder. “Now go home and rest. You have a difficult task ahead of you, Ada.”

I took his advice and returned to the Fighters’ Guild, too tired to do anything except fall into bed and sleep for the rest of the day. It hadn’t really occurred to me before now, but I really had been pushing myself incredibly hard over the last few days… weeks… well, months, to be quite honest. Perhaps I ought to let up for a while, but I didn’t see how I could with everything I had on my plate.

It was midday the next day when I finally woke up – nearly twenty-four hours later. If any ash zombies had come to attack me they’d had found me an easy target, but for some reason, they hadn’t. I remembered Caius talking about them being controlled by Sixth House cults, and then recalled the shrine I’d found in that Ashlander woman’s house while investigating Varvur’s ash statue. Perhaps I’d destroyed the local Sixth House base, and that was why the creatures had stopped attacking me here?

I felt dim and groggy after such a long sleep, but I couldn’t sit around – I had business to be getting on with. A bath and a meal left me feeling a little more awake, and I spent some time wondering what to do first: talk to the Councillors, or go to Galsa Gindu to discuss strongholds. Eventually I settled on the former, because I still couldn’t for the life of me see how I could afford to have a stronghold built (let alone pay for all the guards and servants a place like that would need). Short of robbing the Vivec treasuries, or having a long-lost wealthy relative die and leave me a fortune, I couldn’t see any solution.

I decided to visit Brara Morvayn first – after all, we women had to stick together. She was living in what you’d call ‘reduced circumstances’, namely a small and cramped apartment in the Redoran council hall. When I met her I was surprised by how young she looked, despite the deep grief etched into her face.

“My husband Remas was a Councillor of House Redoran,” she told me. “He died defending our manor from blighted monsters, and I now hold his seat on the Council. Did Athyn Sarethi send you here to get my support?”

I nodded. “Well, I will support you, even though you are an outlander, if you help clear the beasts from Morvayn Manor.”

“What happened to the manor?”

“My husband died defending it from misshapen beasts that came through the Ghostfence. He believed that the beasts were attracted by a statue we received a few weeks before the attacks began.”

That sounded horribly familiar. “How long ago did this happen?”

“Almost a year ago.”

“A year?” I said in shock. “And no one’s cleared the beasts out of the manor yet?”

“Everyone is terrified of being infected with corprus disease,” she explained. “But Athyn tells me you have recovered from the disease, and become immune to it. I’m not sure I believe this, but if you will enter my house and remove the ash statue, I will give you my support on the Council.”

She gave me a key to Morvayn Manor, and told me I should bring the ash statue to the priest Lloros Sarano so that he could destroy it. After that I set out for Morvayn manor, which was on the eastern side of town, near the Temple. I wondered why the Morvayns were the only Redoran family not to have a manor under Skar.

The inside of the house was dark and creepy. In the main entrance hall, a table was set for dinner, left exactly as it had been when the house was abandoned. It saddened me to think how beautiful the place must have been before it was invaded by corprus beasts.

I searched through the lower rooms of the house, noting the overturned furniture and household items scattered over the floor. The corprus stalkers didn’t pose much of a threat now that I was immune to the disease – they were strong, but slow and clumsy. Far more scary were the red candles they had placed everywhere and the Sixth House symbols scrawled all over the walls and floor. I even found the body of Remas Morvayn, gruesome but surprisingly well-preserved – he must have been infected with corprus before he died.

Finally I found the ash statue on top of a crate. I took it to Lloros Sarano at the Temple, who promised to destroy it, and went back to Brara Morvayn to tell her the good news. She promised me her support, and despite my protests, insisted on giving me an amulet as a reward. I was going to be able to open my own jewellery store at this rate.

Next up was Hlaren Ramoran. On entering his manor I noticed that it was rather larger and more luxurious than the Sarethis’, though not quite as grand as Bolvyn Venim’s. When I reached Ramoran’s private quarters, I found that he was busy and couldn’t see me immediately. Instead I had to deal with a female bodyguard, Nalvyna Sarinith, who seemed very protective of her Lord and glared at me suspiciously the whole time.

Only when I asked her what it was like working for Ramoran did she finally relax a little. “He is a kind and noble man,” she told me. “I swore an oath to serve him, but sometimes it is difficult... It is a great honour, one I struggle to live with every day.”

I was about to ask her what she meant by that, when Hlaren’s previous visitor came out of his study. Leaving my weapons with the suspicious Nalvyna, I went in to see the Councillor.

Hlaren Ramoran was the oldest of the Councillors I’d met so far. Although I couldn’t see any signs of the bad temper Athyn had mentioned, he did seem a little distracted by something or other. “So you want my support on the Council?” he said at last, when I explained what I was here for. “Very well, I shall grant support to an outlander, if she can prove herself. First, I need someone to collect the taxes from Gnisis.”

Collect the taxes? That seemed like an insanely simple task for a potential House Father – not that I was complaining, of course. “My regular tax collector has fallen ill,” he continued, “but the duties are quite simple. Speak with Hetman Abelmawia and get the taxes from him, then bring them back to me.”

Ah, I knew this old trick. The Hetman would give me the taxes, along with a letter for Ramoran. Then when I arrived back in Ald’ruhn, it would turn out there was a ‘shortfall’ in the amount he’d given me, and I’d have to make it up out of my own funds to prove my honesty.

Well, I wasn’t falling for that. “How much should the taxes be this month?” I asked innocently.

“There should be sixty drakes in all.”

I hesitated, still convinced that this had to be some kind of trick. It was just too easy. “So what’s the catch?”

“The catch?” he said, looking confused.

“That’s really all you want me to do, collect the taxes? No peasant rebellions or mad Telvanni wizards to deal with or anything?”

“No, sera, nothing like that.” He was starting to look a little impatient. “It is a simple enough task, is it not?”

I decided to leave before he got fed up and decided he wouldn’t support me after all. On the way to the silt strider port, I realised that I didn’t have to travel that way – I could get to Gnisis immediately by casting Recall to the Urshilaku camp followed by an Intervention spell. But the moment I arrived in the camp I was spotted by the trader Kurapli, who rushed up and flung her arms around me. “It is Ada! Nerevarine!”

Of course, there was no getting away after that. The Ashlanders insisted that I stay for dinner, and I really didn’t have the heart to refuse. I don’t know exactly what was in the stew they served me, and I’m not entirely sure I want to – all I can say is that it tasted rather better than it looked.

I must say that for once it was nice to be treated with awe and admiration, rather than hostility and suspicion. The tribesmen bombarded me with questions about my visits to Lost Kogoruhn and the Cavern of the Incarnate. They wanted to know how my Nerevarine quest was going, and whether I’d managed to convince any Great House councillors to declare me Hortator. I told them I was ‘working on it’.

The days were getting shorter and shorter as winter rolled in, and by the time I arrived Gnisis it had been dark for several hours. I only just had time to grab the taxes from Hetman Abelmawia before catching the silt strider, though I did count them carefully first – sixty drakes in all, as Lord Ramoran had said.

On the journey back, I kept myself amused reading the books that the ancestor ghosts had given me. One of them was called Sithis and was completely unintelligible; the other was part of a series called the 36 Lessons of Vivec – supposedly written by Vivec himself – and somehow managed to be even more unintelligible. As far as I could tell, it seemed to be describing a highly intimate encounter between Vivec and Molag Bal – the Daedra Lord known as the ‘King of Rape’. On second thoughts, it’s probably a good thing I didn’t understand any more of it.

I showed up punctually at Ramoran Manor the morning after arriving back in Ald’ruhn, and handed over the taxes. I still couldn’t understand why he would bother testing me this way – had he really thought I would risk my position in the House for just sixty drakes? If so, he had to have a pretty poor opinion of outlanders. Or perhaps just of me.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Lord Ramoran?” I asked politely.

“Yes, I have another favour to ask.” Aha! I knew it.

“In my youth, I was involved with a woman named Nalvilie Saren,” he continued. “I was quite… fond of her, and have often wondered what happened to her.” To my astonishment, I realised that he was blushing. “Would you be willing to seek her out for me?”

I stared at him, fighting a sudden urge to laugh. Was he serious? He was offering me his support on the Council… in return for tracking down his old girlfriend? I wasn’t sure whether to find that hilarious, or rather sweet.

“Of course, serjo,” I said meekly, trying desperately to keep a tremor of laughter out of my voice. “Where should I start looking?”

“I believe the Saren family lives in the Redoran Compound in Vivec,” he said. “That may be a good place to start. When you find her, tell that I do not care what happened in the past, and that I can support her. Invite her to meet with me here in Ald’ruhn.”

Ooh. There was some kind of story there, clearly.

Somehow I made it out of the door of Ramoran Manor before giving in to a fit of the giggles. The nearby guards and passers-by looked at me as if I were mad. Well, they’d have plenty more reasons to think so before the month was up.

As I was entering the Mages Guild to travel to Vivec, I was waylaid by Edwinna Elbert, who was carrying a book under her arm. “Ah, Ada!” she exclaimed. “I was hoping you would drop by. I have finished my study of Chimarvamidium.”

For a moment I wasn’t sure what she was talking about, and then I remembered that this was the book she’d asked me to, ahem, ‘borrow’ for her. “Was it any help?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Can you believe this isn’t about a Dwemer construct at all? This book was completely useless. In any case, I need you to return it before Sirilonwe suspects anything.”

“Oh, no. Edwinna, I can’t – ”

“Of course you can!” she interrupted. I looked around desperately for a way to escape, but she was already pressing the book into my hands. “Take it back to the Mages Guild in Vivec, and make sure you put it back exactly where you found it.”

Mentally swearing never under any circumstances to do another favour for Edwinna, I stuffed the book into my pack and went on to speak with the Guild Guide. Over in the Vivec guild, I was forced to ask Sirilonwe for another random spell to give me a shot at putting the book back. Luckily she didn’t seem to have noticed it was missing, and all I had to do was slip back into the closet and place it in the opened chest. Being thrown in jail for stealing would have been a pretty dismal end to my Nerevarine aspirations.

After that I set out for the Redoran canton, which luckily was right next to the Foreign Quarter. All I had to do was walk over a bridge and I was there. I discovered that the Saren manor was in the plaza on top of the canton, so I made my way there, hoping Nalvilie would be at home.

No such luck, unfortunately. When I spoke to Arns Saren, the lady of the manor, her face went suddenly rigid at the mention of Nalvilie’s name. “She is no longer my daughter.”

“I… I’m sorry? Do you mean she’s dead?”

She shook her head grimly. “She has disgraced our family. I will not say more.”

I was just wondering how to proceed from here when a wealthy-looking nobleman, presumably Arns’ husband, entered the room. “Ah, a visitor,” he said with a polite smile. “I am Toris Saren. How can I help you, outlander?”

His wife murmured something to him in Dunmeris. All I could catch was the word ‘Nalvilie’, but the smile instantly vanished from Saren’s face. “Nalvilie Saren is disgraced, as my wife has told you. Please do not remind us of this.”

“I understand, serjo,” I said – though I didn’t, of course – “but I do need to speak to her on a very important matter. If she isn’t here, could you at least give me some idea of where to find her?”

The two of them exchanged glances, and eventually Toris heaved a sigh. “If I tell you, will you leave here and promise to never mention the subject in my presence again?”

“Of course.”

“Very well. Nalvilie owns a consignment shop on the south-side canals of the St. Olms Canton. She is disgraced, and she disgraces any who speak with her.” He said this with an extremely pointed stare. “Now, please leave as you promised.”

Sheesh, I thought, as I left the manor. What the heck was going on with the Saren family? I wondered just what sort of hideous crime I would have to commit to make my own parents disown me like that. Even if they’d known about my arrest for murder, I couldn’t imagine them telling people that I was no longer their daughter.

I took a gondola to the St Olms canton, and eventually found Nalvilie in one of the canalside slum houses. Calling it a ‘slum’ was actually a bit unfair – the one-room house was small and simply furnished, but clean and tidy. Even so, it was a massive step down from the grandeur of Saren Manor.

Nalvilie herself was a middle-aged woman with a hard look about her. She might have been attractive when she was younger, but her recent life had clearly put paid to that. She was polite enough at first, but the moment I mentioned Hlaren Ramoran, her brows shot up in disbelief. “What? You say that Hlaren Ramoran wants to meet with me, even if it would disgrace him?”

“Er, yes, that’s – ”

“No, even now that I will not do. I never liked the way he kept hanging around like a lost scrib.” She scowled. “Tell him once more that my answer is still no.”

I tried to protest, but she just shook her head contemptuously. “I do not care what Hlaren Ramoran might have to say. I will not see him. That is final.”

As you can imagine, by this time I was dying to know what had happened between the two of them – but I couldn’t exactly ask, could I? All I could do was leave and return to Ald’ruhn in the knowledge that I’d failed. I hoped Ramoran would understand. After all, it really wasn’t my fault if Nalvilie refused point-blank to even consider seeing him.

At least Edwinna was pleased to hear that I’d returned Chimarvamidium. In return she gave me some amulets with Divine and Almsivi Intervention enchantments – which were pretty darn useful right now, I had to admit. Even so, I decided not to ask her for any more duties; I was in enough trouble already.

After lunch I went to see Lord Ramoran. He was busy again, so I had to wait outside with his bodyguard Nalvyna, who was keen to know what sort of tasks he’d asked me to do. “She has disgraced herself and her family,” she said, when I told her about Nalvilie. “I do not understand why my Lord would still wish to find her after the way she treated him. Sometimes I wish...” She hesitated. “But no, it would not be proper.”

I stared at her, suspicion gradually dawning on me. So it was like that, was it? Well, well. Admittedly I couldn’t imagine how anyone could find Hlaren Ramoran attractive, even by Dunmer standards, but I guess there’s no accounting for taste.

Just then I was called into Hlaren’s study, so I didn’t have any more time to talk with Nalvyna. “Have you been to Vivec?” he asked eagerly, as soon as I entered. “Do you have word from Nalvilie Saren?”

I looked into his wrinkled, hopeful face, and I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. “She’s… dead,” I told him, chickening out completely. “I’m so sorry, serjo.”

“She… is dead?”

I nodded, hoping he’d never find out the truth. If he did, I could just claim that was what her family had told me – it was plausible enough, given the way they’d reacted…

Hlaren lowered his eyes to his desk, staring at his hands. “I am saddened to hear this, but perhaps it is for the best,” he said at last, his voice thick. “Well, you did what you could. I will give you my support on the council.”

Poor guy, he looked so sad. I really should have just left well alone, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Lord Ramoran,” I said. “I know it’s really none of my business, but… have you ever thought of looking for a wife closer to home?”

The moment the words were out of my mouth, I instantly regretted them. Luckily Ramoran didn’t seem to take offence; perhaps he was just too downcast. “Of course,” he said, with a shrug and a sad smile. “But I fear it is too late now. What woman could care for an old fool like me?”

“You don’t look old to me,” I said, lying through my teeth. “And I think there is someone who cares for you. Nalvyna Sarinith, your bodyguard.”

“Nalvyna?” He looked genuinely astonished. “She is an excellent warrior, and has served me faithfully for several years. But…”

“I’ve talked to her, and she seems very fond of you. Not that she said anything,” I added hastily, “but… well, you know. We women can sense these things.”

Hlaren was silent for several seconds as he digested this. “She... I... Hmm. I don’t know what to say.” He shook his head. “Perhaps if I were younger... if it weren’t so improper...”

“Do these things really matter so much?” I asked, deciding that having come this far there was no point in backing down. “You were willing to meet with Nalvilie, serjo, even if it would have disgraced you…”

“True, I did not care so much for propriety when pursuing Nalvilie Saren.” He nodded slowly. “Very well, I will consider what you have said. I thank you, sera.”

I thanked him politely in return and left the room, quite astonished at how well that had gone. Apparently I’d just discovered a new talent: matchmaking.

With the support of two of the Councillors, all I needed now was a stronghold. And a pretty big ‘all’ it was. I knew perfectly well that I couldn’t afford it, and even if I could, I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to build one. All I could do was go to Galsa Gindu and hope she’d give me some idea of where to start.

Galsa’s house in the Council Hall was filled with architectural books and papers. She certainly seemed to know her stuff, and to my surprise, she didn’t simply burst out laughing when I told her that I needed a stronghold. “Certainly,” she said, “but I will need 5,000 drakes for labour and materials.”

I was even more surprised to hear her name such a low price. It was still more than I could afford, but not nearly as much as I had expected. Not that I knew much about the building trade, but I’d hardly have thought you could build a cottage for 5,000 septims.

“Only 5,000 drakes?” I asked. “Nothing else?”

“You must also bring me a construction contract from Duke Dren in Ebonheart. Here on Vvardenfell, the Duke must issue a construction contract before we lay the first founding stones for any building. This rule is often overlooked by the Hlaalu and Telvanni, but House Redoran is honourable, and I will not break these rules.”

Well, that didn’t sound too bad, though I had no idea whether Dren would be willing to issue a contract or not. Being Imperial, though, I had plenty of experience dealing with bureaucracy. I just hoped he wouldn’t ask for more money to ‘speed up the planning process’.

I asked where the stronghold would be built, and she told me there was a suitable site at a place called ‘Bal Isra’. When she showed me where it was on the map, my heart sank. It was miles away from Ald’ruhn, right out in the Ashlands – just about the least convenient place she could possibly have chosen. Why anyone would want a stronghold built there was beyond me.

Still, none of that would matter unless I could somehow raise 5,000 septims within the next few days. I considered the problem over dinner at the Rat in the Pot, and concluded that I had two options: take out a loan, or find a way to sell Sheogorath’s ring. There were a few other things I could sell, but none of them would fetch the money I needed.

I decided to visit my bank manager first thing the next morning. After washing down my meal with a glass or two of wine, I was just preparing to leave when a slightly-too-loud conversation at a nearby table caught my ear.

“Have you heard the latest?” a male voice was saying. “They say that another outlander is claiming to be the Nerevarine.”

My hand jerked so violently that I nearly knocked over my glass. There was a chorus of groans from his companions. “Not another one! Who is it this time?”

“I’m not sure. I only heard it from some drunken f’lah who’d been speaking to an even more drunken Ashlander. All I know is that they’re saying it’s a woman.”

“Big deal,” said someone else. “‘Lord Nerevar is coming back to save Morrowind.’ About time, I say. Where was he when the Empire walked in here and took over?” There were murmurs of agreement.

I didn’t dare to move, or even look at the other patrons. My face felt as hot as fire, and at every moment I was terrified that someone would look over and go “There she is!” Finally, after what seemed like an age, the conversation drifted on to other topics.

I leaned back in my seat, my heart thumping wildly. After months of treating the whole business like a kind of game, it was gradually starting to sink in that things were getting really serious now, and I couldn’t keep this a secret for ever. If I wanted to fulfil the trials, at some point I was going to have to come out and openly declare myself the Nerevarine – and a whole lot of people were going to be really angry with me. The Temple authorities in particular would be anything but pleased to have to deal with another ‘False Incarnate’.

Could I do it, I wondered? Was I really cut out to be the saviour of Morrowind?

Now I won’t get all self-righteous and pretend I didn’t want to be a hero – as far as I was concerned, if I could help people and win fame and fortune in the process, so much the better. But this particular kind of heroism – the saving-the-world, uniting-the-people-against-a-common-threat type – wasn’t in my style at all. Certainly I’d come to feel some sympathy for the people of Vvardenfell, even affection in some cases, but I still didn’t entirely see why I should be the one to sort out all their problems for them. After all, as people kept reminding me, it was their country.

Then there were the practical concerns. I might possibly be able to take on Dagoth Ur, with enough high-powered armour and weaponry, but that was nothing to the task of getting myself made Hortator in the first place. Sul-Matuul had said something about the Moon-and-Star ring granting Nerevar supernatural powers of persuasion. Well, if it was true, I’d definitely need them.

I didn’t feel any more persuasive, certainly. On the other hand… I’d told Athyn a completely unbelievable story, and he’d believed it. And I’d managed to talk the Sarens into helping me find their daughter, and persuaded a Redoran lord to consider marriage to his own bodyguard…

Well, I’d just have to take things as they came. If the worst came to the worst, I could always fall back on my inherited racial talent, the ‘Voice of the Emperor’. Perhaps there were some advantages to being an Imperial Nerevarine, after all…

Nothing too specific for me to say about this entry, other than it remaining an excellent and hilarious addition to Ada's Adventures in Adventureland! Wait, sorry, I meant Morrowind.

Dealing with one's sponsor and getting extra House support was great.

And redact my previous remark about lack of specificity. The observation about Councilor Morvayn's body's condition was excellent.

But the best line for this entry:



Now if only Varvur and Ada would resolve that UST, say, perhaps, through the use of a fellow matchmaker?

*The Captain casts a Fortify Speed spell, drinks a Fortify Speed potion, slips on his magic-resisting gear to reach magic immunity with his Breton nature, then runs away very, very quickly.

This post has been edited by Captain Hammer: Jan 18 2011, 06:07 AM

I won't post a new chapter just yet, but I wanted to share this: I've been playing a lot of The Sims 3 lately (what, you wondered why my other story keeps getting delayed? ) and of course I had to create an Ada character. So here is Sim Ada: [close-up] [long shot]. Here she is in formal dress and in her swimsuit. She's Athletic, Brave, Grumpy, Neat and Workaholic, and follows the Military career.

Looks like you, too, only more muscular!