My favorite line:




I love the "Sims Ada!!" It looks just like her!!!

Chapter 28: Coward Of The Canton

The next morning I went back to Vivec, yet again, and paid another visit to my bank manager. He just told me the same thing he’d said before: that I’d have to go to the mainland to find a buyer for my ring.

“But it’s urgent,” I said in exasperation. “Don’t you know anyone on Vvardenfell who might buy it?”

His lips twitched. “Well, I’ve heard say there’s a talking mudcrab somewhere on Azura’s Coast who’s pretty free with his gold.”

“Haha,” I said. “No, seriously. I really need the money.”

“Very well,” he said at last. “I’ll make some enquiries. In the meantime, perhaps you’d like to take out a loan?”

It seemed that I didn’t have any other choice. I agreed to borrow 5,000 septims at the bank’s standard interest rate, with the first repayment of just over 500 drakes due in a week’s time. If I wanted to eat over the next month, as well as build a stronghold, I’d have to get cracking with those Fighter’s Guild missions – and find myself some caves to loot as well.

At least I’d cleared one hurdle, I thought. Now all I needed to do was persuade Duke Vedam Dren – a Hlaalu – that what Vvardenfell really needed right now was another Redoran stronghold.

My next point of call was Ebonheart. For once I travelled there by boat, not wanting to make use of Vivec’s shrine at a time like this. I couldn’t help thinking about how the Nerevarine was supposed to bring down the ‘false gods’ as part of the prophecy. Heaven knew how the Temple, let alone Almsivi themselves, would react to that bit.

Anyway, I didn’t have time to worry about that right now. I went to the Grand Council chambers in Ebonheart, where I’d met Llerar Mandas a couple of weeks ago, and found myself in a long line of petitioners waiting to see the Duke. Luckily he seemed to operate an ‘open-door’ policy.

Vedam Dren was a thoughtful-looking man with smooth, pleasant manners. I’d been a little nervous about meeting him, remembering that his brother Orvas was rumoured to be head of the Camonna Tong, but the Duke himself seemed friendly enough towards outlanders – if only because he owed his title, wealth, and position to the Empire. After introducing myself I explained about my need for a stronghold, and asked if he’d be willing to grant me a construction contract.

Dren looked hard at me before answering. “I am not sure if I should issue you a contract,” he said slowly. “But Vvardenfell faces many threats today. I will grant you a contract if you vow to do what you can for my people.”

“Of course,” I said, rather surprised by how easily he’d agreed. “Is there anything in particular you’d like me to – ”

“That is good enough for me,” he interrupted. “Take this contract. Use your stronghold for the defence of my people, and as an aid in your fight against our enemies.”

And with that he waved me away and ushered in the next petitioner, leaving me staring open-mouthed at the paper in my hand. That was it? Seriously? Back in Cyrodiil, it would probably have taken a month just to fill out the forms.

I carefully filed away the contract and walked back to the docks, where I took the boat back to Vivec. It wasn’t until half-way through the journey that I took it back out to actually read it, and when I did, I nearly fainted.

“His Grace, the Duke of Vvardenfell, hereby grants Ada Ventura the right to build a stronghold of no more than fifty persons –” Fifty persons?! “– and of no more than 400 feet in any direction.” Four hundred feet? “Ada Ventura may hire no more than 10 Men-At-Arms and retainers to defend the stronghold…” This wasn’t a stronghold, it was a bloody village!

Once again I got that feeling of being trapped in a bizarre dream. Not exactly an unpleasant dream – come on, who wouldn’t want a mini-village built in their honour? – but something that was just far too good to be real and lasting. At one time I’d had ambitions of rising high in the Fighters’ Guild, maybe even making Champion (and finally getting my revenge on that b*stard Modryn Oreyn), and perhaps finding someone to settle down with once I finally got tired of the wandering life. Never once had I imagined that something like this might happen to me.

Shaking my head, I stuffed the contract back into my pack and settled back for the rest of the journey. Just as I was stepping off the docks at the Foreign Quarter, I spotted a young man walking in the other direction, and as he drew closer I realised that it was Varvur. I had a sudden panicky urge to avoid him, until I realised that this was completely stupid – what did it matter what people thought? Besides, he’d already spotted me.

“Hello, Ada,” he said with one of those heart-melting smiles. “It’s good to see you. What are you doing in Vivec?”

“I just got back from Ebonheart, actually. I went to ask Duke Dren for a construction contract to build a stronghold.”

“A stronghold!” His eyes widened. “Then you are to be a House Father?”

“If everything goes well, yes.”

Varvur shook his head incredulously. “You have been here only a few months, and already risen so far in our House… yet I’ve lived in Ald’ruhn all my life, and only reached the rank of Oathman. It shames me.”

“Hey, it could be worse. I lived with a merchant family for eighteen years without learning the first thing about business.” That won a reluctant smile from him. “So what are you here for, anyway?”

“I have come to perform some duties for Faral Retheran at the Redoran treasury.” His expression darkened slightly. “It seems a Redoran in Vivec has shamed the House by refusing to fight a duel of honour. I must persuade him to change his mind.”

“Well, good luck with that.” From the look on his face I could see that he really wasn’t looking forward to this. “Would you like me to come along and help, er, persuade him? Might be easier with two of us.”

Varvur hesitated for a second, and then nodded. “Yes, perhaps you are right. It would be good to have a second person there for, er…”

“Moral support?”

“Yes.”

We went to the Redoran canton to speak with Faral Retheran, the House agent who handled Redoran business in Vivec. She told us that the reluctant duellist – a man named Rothis Nethan – was hiding out in the Flowers of Gold tavern. Apparently he hadn’t quite grasped the concept of ‘hiding’ properly, because it turned out the place was right below us in the Redoran waistworks.

“Okay, Varvur, we need a strategy,” I announced, as we walked to the tavern. “You know the ‘good guard, bad guard’ routine, right?”

He shook his head, looking puzzled. I sighed. “It’s what the Watch do when they’re interrogating suspects. Basically one of us is the ‘good guard’, so they act all friendly – well, relatively friendly – while the other one tries to bully and intimidate the guy into doing what we want.”

Varvur grimaced. “I will leave the bullying and intimidation to you, I think. Er, not that I meant…”

“I know what you meant. You need to toughen up a bit, Varvur,” I said, winking to let him know that I was teasing him. “If you can scare the life out of your opponent before the battle begins, you’ve already won.”

The Flowers of Gold was filled with Redoran retainers enjoying their lunch, but it was obvious which one was Rothis Nethan: he was the ridiculously over-dressed young man sitting in the corner, trying to look inconspicuous while sucking down ale like there was no tomorrow. As we approached his table, he looked up at us and his face fell. “You’re here about that duel, aren’t you?”

“Right you are,” I said, with a grim smile. “So why didn’t you turn up for it, you snivelling little coward?”

In a voice almost too low to hear, he mumbled, “I couldn’t.”

“And why not?”

This time I couldn’t even hear what he said in reply. “You bring shame on our House, sera,” Varvur said quietly.

Rothis said nothing, but he looked as if he were trying not to roll his eyes. “Don’t you care for your own honour?” Varvur pressed him. “Do you wish to be seen as weak and cowardly?”

“Well, I’d rather be alive and a coward than dead!” Nethan took a long swig from his glass of ale. “There’s no way I can beat Brethas Deras. He’s too good a fighter.”

“Don’t be so sure, sera. You may surprise yourself.”

“That’s easy for you to say!” He flung up his hands. “Look at me – I’m a scholar, not a warrior. Why should I risk my life in this silly duel?”

I could kind of sympathise, actually. Coming from a place where duelling was regarded as a bit of a joke, I still found it rather hard to take the whole business seriously. It made keeping up the ‘bad guard’ act a bit difficult.

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before shooting your mouth off, shouldn’t you?” I countered. “Come on, Rothis, just man up a bit. Ten to one he’ll only smack you around a little and leave it at that.”

Rothis shook his head glumly. “No, it has to be a duel to the death. He’d kill me for sure.”

“Oh, for crying out loud.” I was already getting tired of this. “I’ll fight the damn duel for you. At least that way they’ll know some of us Redorans aren’t cowards.”

His eyes grew wide. “Would you? That’s – ”

Before he could get any further, Varvur’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar. “Worthless s’wit! No, she cannot fight a duel for you – and if you had a trace of honour, you would not ask her to!” His eyes practically glowed with anger.

“Guys, calm down,” I said, suddenly aware of a dozen pairs of eyes riveted on us. “This isn’t helping. Rothis, what would convince you to fight this duel?”

I was expecting him to say “nothing,” but instead, he hesitated. At last he said sulkily, “I’m not fighting any duels without some way of evening the odds.”

“And how could we do that?”

“You’ll have to help me out. If you bring me ten standard potions of healing, that should give me a better chance against Brethas Deras.”

Varvur and I exchanged glances. Following a brief discussion, and a hunt through our packs, we managed to come up with ten potions between us.

“You do realise you won’t actually have much time to drink them during the fight?” I said to Nethan. “Somehow I don’t think this Brethas is going to politely hold back to let you swig down a few potions.”

Rothis shrugged and nodded. He gulped down the remains of his drink, then breathed in deeply. “Okay. Come to the Arena this evening. I’ll be there this time.”

We watched him haul himself to his feet and walk rather unsteadily the door of the tavern. “I thought you were going to leave the bullying to me,” I murmured to Varvur.

“Forgive me,” he said stiffly. “I lost my temper.”

We agreed to meet up in the Arena later that day, and then went our separate ways. I went back to Ald’ruhn for a late lunch before taking the money and construction contract to Galsa Gindu. “Yes, this is adequate,” she said, after checking over the contract. “Construction will begin as soon as I give the orders. In a week or so, come speak with me again.”

A week? Again, not that I’m an expert, but I wouldn’t have thought they could even get the foundations laid in that time. Maybe Morrowind builders were just very efficient?

I spent the rest of the afternoon shopping for provisions, and returned to Vivec in the early evening to watch the duel. I hadn’t been to Vivec’s Arena before, and I was quite impressed by its size – though of course, it was nothing to the one in the Imperial City. There weren’t many people in the stalls, though; apparently no one much cared about the outcome of this duel.

Varvur was waiting for me near the entrance. “So what do you think?” I asked, as we took our seats. “Is he in with a chance?”

“I’m not sure. His opponent is a Hlaalu, I believe, but I haven’t heard of him before now.”

At that moment a voice announced the entrance of the duellists. Varvur and I leaned forward over the guardrail to see them more clearly, and my jaw dropped.

The Hlaalu, Brethas Deras, was dressed in full bonemold armour with an enchanted sword – nothing unusual about that. But Rothis’ armour was – well, it wasn’t. He wasn’t wearing anything except the clothes we’d seen him in earlier that day. Had he lost his mind?

As I watched in utter disbelief, he drew a ridiculously tiny dagger from his belt. It looked like something you’d use to cut paper.

“The hell?” I gasped, turning to Varvur. His face had gone slightly pale. “The hell?”

“Almsivi,” he whispered. “Why did he not tell us he had no sword or armour? We could have…” His voice trailed off.

“And they’re going to fight a duel to the death? Varvur, somebody has to stop them!”

“We cannot.” He looked utterly miserable. “Duellists may use whatever equipment they choose. There is no rule.”

“But – ” I broke off as the announcer gave the signal for the duel to begin, and the two opponents rushed at each other.

What followed was nothing less than a slaughter. Rothis actually put up a reasonable fight, for someone wielding what looked like a child’s toy against a heavily-armed opponent. But honestly, he might as well just have run straight onto Deras’ sword.

I watched, helpless, as the most insanely one-sided duel in the history of Morrowind (and possibly all Tamriel) unfolded in the ring beneath us. Shock and disbelief turned to rage as I realised that Brethas Deras had no intention of showing any mercy, just because his opponent lacked a few trivial things like a sword and armour. I was so angry that for a few moments I seriously considered jumping over the barrier to help Rothis – except that it was too far down and I wasn’t equipped for a duel in any case.

By the end of the duel I was seething with fury. I’d seen some pretty disgusting things since arriving in Morrowind, but I honestly don’t think anything else had sickened me quite as much as this. All the other killings, no matter how cruel and unjustified, had at least had some reason behind them. But this… this was just completely senseless.

“What in Stendaar’s name was that?” I spluttered at Varvur.

He bowed his head. “It is sad. But at least the honour of the House has been defended.”

“Honour? How was that in any way honourable? That wasn’t a duel, that was just – a farce. A complete farce.” I shook my head. “A guy just got killed over some stupid insult, in a fight he had absolutely no chance of winning, and you think it’s all right just because he showed up?”

“You don’t understand,” he protested. “Yours is a mercantile culture. If someone slandered you in Cyrodiil, you would… make them pay you, perhaps? But ours is a warrior culture. If someone insults you and you fail to challenge them, it makes you look weak, and people will despise you for it.”

“And if you turn up for life-or-death battle with no weapons or armour, what the hell does that make you?” I snarled. “Come to that, what does it make your opponent? There’s no bloody ‘honour’ in beating someone who can’t fight back!”

“Sore loser, Redoran?” said a taunting voice behind me. I spun round to see Brethas Deras, still in armour but without his helmet, surrounded by a group of his supporters. “At least Rothis Nethan showed up this time. You Redorans sure talk a lot about honour, but when it comes time to test it, you fail.”

There was no way I was going to let this pass. “Are you joking?” I snapped. “Come back when you’ve fought a real duel and then we can discuss ‘honour’. Who’s your next opponent, a five-year-old girl armed with a lollipop stick?”

Deras’ expression had turned distinctly ugly. “Watch your tongue, outlander, or it may just be you.”

“Try me,” I growled. We glowered at each other, and then I felt Varvur’s hand on my arm.

“Ada, be careful,” he said in a low voice. “What you just said was all but a challenge.”

“Don’t worry, Varvur. Somehow I have this strange feeling he’s not likely to take me up on it.” I turned my back on Brethas and his friends. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Apologise first.”

Heaving a sigh, I turned back to Brethas. “Sorry,” I said flatly. I could see him struggling with his pride, but he clearly had the sense to realise I would not be quite such a pushover as Rothis Nethan. After a second or two he jerked his head to the rest of his posse, motioning to them to leave.

“N’wah,” I heard one of them mutter as they walked off. As insults go it was pretty feeble, but it might have been just enough to tip me over the edge – if Varvur hadn’t taken hold of my arms, quietly but firmly, and literally held me back.

His hands grasped my wrists tightly. I stared down at them and slowly unclenched my fists, seeing livid red marks where my nails had dug into my palms.

“Shall we go for dinner?” he asked softly.

I drew a few long breaths, trying to calm myself down. “Okay. Let’s do that.”

We returned to the ‘Flowers of Gold’ and settled down to a dinner of nix-hound meat and ash yams, washed down with plenty of shein. With a good meal and a few drinks inside me, I felt the anger slowly bleed out, and shame creep in to replace it. Gods, I’d come close to challenging Brethas to a duel as pointless as the one he’d just fought. And it wouldn’t even have been justified – sure, the guy hadn’t exactly covered himself in glory, but it wasn’t his fault that Rothis had turned up virtually unarmed.

“I am sorry you had to see that,” Varvur said, guessing my thoughts. “I don’t agree with everything you said, but in one way you are right. Neither of our Houses has won great honour by that duel.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for. Though I think maybe I have.” I sighed. “Thanks for holding me back, Varvur. I keep doing that, don’t I?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a shrug. “I was angry too, earlier in the day.”

“Yes, what happened there? It doesn’t seem like you to lose your temper like that.”

“It was his selfishness, his lack of honour, that made me angry. I can understand being afraid, but I would never dream of asking someone else to fight a duel for me. Especially – ”

He broke off. “Especially a woman?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“No… that was not what I was going to say. I – ” For a moment it looked like he was steeling himself to say something more, but eventually he shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

I said nothing. I had a feeling I could guess what he’d been going to say, and I really wasn’t sure whether or not it was a good idea to take the conversation in that direction. From the look of it, neither was Varvur.

We chewed in silence. I tried to think about other things, but instead I found myself suddenly wondering what he’d be like in bed. Probably quite gentle, I thought – not like most of the lovers I’d had in the past. Mind you, none of those relationships had lasted more than a few months…

“What are you thinking about?” Varvur asked.

‘What you’d be like in bed’ probably wasn’t the best answer. “Er… nothing much,” I said vaguely. “Just… old boyfriends.”

“Oh.” He paused. “Have you had many… boyfriends?”

“A few,” I said, shrugging. “Mainly Nords, actually. Guess I tend to go for the rugged barbarian type.”

“I see.” He looked thoughtful.

We both went quiet again. “Talking of boyfriends,” I said at last, “what is up with you and the Wood Elf girl?”

“Wood Elf girl?

“The one I saw in your manor the other day.”

“Oh… Aeronwen.” He grimaced. “She is not my ‘girlfriend’, if that’s what you mean.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “For a short time, earlier this year, we were… I’m sorry, I don’t know the right word. Courting?”

“Dating.”

“Dating, then. But we… well, she didn’t seem so interested in me as I was in her. In fact, I began to suspect that she was in love with someone else.” Varvur sighed heavily. “I tried to speak to her about it, but she kept avoiding me… or so it seemed to me.” His face grew rigid. “Well, I have pride. I was not going to pursue a woman who didn’t care for me.”

Ouch. Suddenly I wished I hadn’t asked. “I’m sorry, Varvur,” I said. “I assumed you two were… well. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have asked… um, if you see what I mean.”

“It was many months ago,” he said, shrugging. “Things are still a little awkward between us, but I don’t mind so much any more.” He paused. “In any case, I think perhaps it was for the best. My parents like Aeronwen, but I don’t think they would have approved of… us.”

“They probably want you to marry some rich Hlaalu noble,” I said, trying to lighten the mood a little. “You know, unite the two Houses. That sort of thing.”

The expression of horror on Varvur’s face was almost comical. “Marry a Hlaalu? I would rather die!”

“Really? I thought those sorts of political marriages happened all the time.”

But he was shaking his head. “I do not think my parents would want me to marry a Hlaalu.”

The conversation drifted onto other subjects, and we finished our meals. “What will you do now?” Varvur asked me, as we left the tavern.

“Go to bed, I think. Oh, um, you mean tomorrow?” Yep, I was a bit tipsy. “I have to go back to Sadrith Mora. More work for the Fighters’ Guild.”

“So you’re leaving again?” he asked, looking rather wistful. “Well, I’m glad to have seen you while you were here.”

“Come with me,” I said on impulse.

He shook his head with genuine regret. “I can’t. I have more tasks to do for Faral Retheran.”

“Guess it’s goodbye for now, then.”

We hugged rather awkwardly. My skin prickled against the fabric of my shirt where his hands touched my back, and I felt a pleasant trickling sensation in the pit of my stomach. Damn it, why now? This was not a good time!

When we’d said our goodbyes I went back to Wolverine Hall, where I took the details of my next two Guild missions from Hrundi before going to bed. I didn’t sleep much that night, though. Although I’d had quite a nice evening in the end, I felt frustrated and irritable. At least Dagoth Ur wasn’t showing up in my dreams these days – maybe killing a few dozen of his supporters had finally driven home the message.

I was up before dawn the next morning to catch the first ship to Tel Mora, which was on a small island off the north-eastern coast. It was only about half as far by sea as Dagon Fel, and we arrived reasonably early on the morning after that. Tel Mora seemed like a typical Telvanni mushroom-village, though there was something about the place that was just a little off – I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

Anyway, the jobs were simple enough: a trader in the village had a corprus stalker trapped in her shop, while an outlaw named Rels Tenim had gone to ground somewhere nearby. I soon found the tradehouse, which was run by a Wood Elf named Berwen, and discovered that she’d imprisoned the corprus stalker behind some crates in her attic. A little too well, in fact, as they were too heavy to move even with my super-strength gauntlets. I couldn’t get near the creature, and had to wait for it to spot me and wander over before I could hit it.

Afterwards, I asked around the village about Rels Tenim and was told to ask in Vos, another town just over the water. It was close enough to be easily seen from Tel Mora – in fact, I could probably have water-walked it, but I couldn’t be bothered. Instead I took a boat.

I was just stepping on board when I realised what had been bugging me about Tel Mora. Ever since I stepped off the docks, I hadn’t seen a single man around the place – only women. Even the few children I’d seen had all been female.

When I asked the shipmaster about this, she smiled. “Mistress Dratha is our Telvanni mage-lord, and she doesn’t like men. She won’t allow them to live here.”

You didn’t have to be a genius to spot the obvious problem with this. “How does she plan to, er, keep the population stable?”

“People come and go,” she said, shrugging. “Besides, we Dunmer have long lives.”

I wondered what had happened to Mistress Dratha to make her hate men so much. Presumably something terrible, though honestly, I wouldn’t have been that surprised to find out that it was just a whim. Divayth Fyr was actually starting to look like one of the saner Telvanni by this time.

The town of Vos was controlled by another Telvanni councillor, Master Aryon. The people here were unusually friendly, and also the only Telvanni I’d met who seemed to feel any real affection for their wizard-lord. “You must go and see Master Aryon’s wizard’s tower,” they all told me. “It’s very strange. Master Aryon isn’t afraid to try new things.”

When I walked up the hill to Tel Vos and saw what they meant, I found it hard not to laugh. The tower was a weird hybrid of the traditional mushroom-tower and a Western-style castle, and the overall effect was… bizarre, to say the least. It looked like the castle was being slowly devoured by a giant tentacled monster.

People in the town had told me to ask the nearby Ashlanders about Rels Tenim, but before I left, I decided to place a Recall point here. I didn’t really need to visit the Urshilaku again for the moment, but I had a feeling I’d need to come back here before long.

After a relatively peaceful walk through the Grazelands – read ‘only a few mad diseased animals trying to kill me’ – I came upon the Ahemmusa camp a few miles to the north. This was the point where I realised something that should have been obvious: the Ashlander tribes don’t really communicate with each other. I’d got used to the Urshilaku treating me like a long-lost friend, but here all I got was dirty looks and suspicious glances at my Templar uniform. No one knew, or cared, that I was the Nerevarine.

I eventually learned that Rels Tenim was hiding out in Shallit, a cave on an island north-northwest of the camp. It wasn’t until I reached the northern coast, and paused to check my map, that I realised there were at least three islands that fitted that description. I briefly considered going back to ask for clarification, but decided to just head for the most obvious choice and hope for the best.

Two hours, several saltwater-dunkings and much swearing later, I finally arrived at the entrance to Shallit. I was cold, dripping wet, shivering, and really didn’t feel up to tackling a bunch of outlaws right now. I wish Varvur were here, I thought. At least I’d have someone to complain to.

I actually considered trying to use a minor fire spell to dry myself out, but rejected this on the grounds that I wasn’t completely suicidal. Instead I used the spell to start a small fire, and waited for the dripping to stop before entering the cave.

It didn’t take me long to realise that there was no one there. Literally no one. At first I thought the outlaws had abandoned the place and moved on, but then I came across a barrel with a lit candle and a note from ‘Rels’ to someone called ‘Giden’. It had clearly been written within the last few days.

I crept on, expecting an ambush at any minute, but none came. Further into the cave I came to a grand-looking staircase leading up to an elaborately carved door. I could hear strange but familiar sounds from behind it, and quickly realised that this led to a Dunmer tomb. By now my Something’s Very Wrong Here sense was tingling like mad.

I cast my Chameleon enchantment and crept through the door. There were a few armed skeleton warriors wandering around, but I ignored them. Two doors led out of the first room: one to the left and one to the right. I chose the left door at random and slipped through it without being noticed.

There wasn’t all that much in the room beyond, either. Just a bunch of urns, and round that corner, an ordinary-looking human… woman… OHHOLYCRAPITSAVAMPIRE.

There was absolutely no doubt that the woman in front of me was a vampire. The veined, pasty face and glowing white eyes said it all, really. Swallowing hard, I slipped off my pack and hunted around in it for a suitable scroll.

Finally I found what I needed: a heavy-duty fireball spell of the type I’d used on the ghost in Llevule Andrano’s tomb. I steadied my trembling hands with an effort and, standing as far away as possible from the vampire, cast the spell straight at her. Unfortunately it didn’t kill her outright, and at that moment the Chameleon spell wore off.

The first thing you’ll learn about fighting vampires is that they’re insanely fast and strong. I barely had a chance to draw my sword before she lunged at me with a cry of fury. Before I had a chance to use the sword, she had picked me up bodily and thrown me against the wall with a force that jarred every bone in my body. As I slumped to the ground I saw her looming over me, fangs bared.

Gathering all my strength, I kicked her hard in the stomach. It staggered her for just a moment, and in that moment, I leaned forward and thrust my sword through her chest as close as possible to her heart. She lashed out wildly, and for a moment we grappled together as I frantically twisted the blade in her body. I was starting to think I’d lost when her gaze went suddenly blank and she stumbled backwards, clutching at her chest.

As the vampire’s body crumbled into dust, something small and shiny fell to the ground and rolled towards my hand. Examining it, I saw that it was a ring with some pretty incredible enchantments: a strong resistance to most non-enchanted weapons and a chance to reflect spell damage. Talos, it was a good thing that hadn’t happened when I cast the scroll at her. ‘Killed by her own fireball spell’ would make a pretty embarrassing epitaph.

I slipped the ring onto my own finger and wondered what to do next. I was bruised and sore, and really didn’t feel like fighting again without resting first – besides, I wasn’t even sure the outlaws were still here. Had I walked into a trap, or had they ended up as ‘food’ for the vampire?

Regardless, there was nowhere to rest except this cave, and right now this room seemed like the safest place in it. If anyone came into the room next door with the skeletons, I’d be alerted by the sounds of battle. So I stripped off my damp clothes, drank a potion or two, and settled down to sleep in a haunted tomb beside the remains of a dead vampire.

Divayth Fyr isn't insane. It's just that his quest for absolute knowledge and understanding has resulted in him Understanding (yes, capitalized for emphasis) so much more than everybody else.

I don't know if it's a thing unique to me, but I always thought that Fyr was Tamriel's equivalent of Albert Einstein. When it comes to looking at the world, he realizes how things really work, down to a magi-quantum level.

I actually agree - he's not so much insane as highly eccentric, in the classic 'absent-minded professor' mould. But remember that the story is told from Ada's perspective, not mine.

GAAAAAH! Calling Divayth insane ... uh ... uh ... feel funny ... (mALX turned green, grew to enormous proportions, ripped off her shirt, then promptly combusted spontaneously)

Oh, granted. Unfortunately, even as a student at college I earned the title "Future Absent Minded Professor," so as a result I tend to sympathize with the eccentric geniuses and list them as my heroes.

Before I post this, I'd just like to apologise for the continued lack of updates on 'The Neveragaine Strikes Back'. I am still working on it, but I've had a lot of other distractions recently (not least looking for a new job - which, today, I finally found).

Chapter 29: Weird Sisters

I woke up to find myself lying half-naked on a cold stone floor with a skull leering down at me. In the few seconds it took me to realise that it was just a decoration, I’d already lunged for my sword and dealt the grinning face a whack that nearly split it in two.

Once I’d recovered from the shock, I put on my clothes – luckily they’d dried in the heat of the braziers – and struggled back into my armour. The remains of the vampire, whose name seemed to be ‘Marara’ according to the markings on her ring, still lay in a small heap on the ground. I scooped up some of the dust into a leather pouch, hoping that it might win me some points with Hrundi. If not, at least I could always sell it to an alchemist.

At least now I didn’t have to worry about Porphyric Haemophilia, I thought. The only other time I’d fought vampires, I’d been so paranoid about catching the ‘vampire disease’ that I’d drunk a Cure Disease potion, and cast a spell, and gone to pray at the nearest chapel for good measure. Being the prophesised Incarnate was turning out to have its benefits.

From the sound of it, the skeleton warriors were still wandering around in the room next door. I could have fought them, but I didn’t want to attract the attention of any bandits that might be lurking nearby, so I used my Chameleon amulet a second time to get out of the tomb. As it turned out, I needn’t have bothered – the cave was still completely deserted. I thought back to the skulls and bones I’d seen in the vampire’s lair, and wondered if one of them belonged to Rels Tenim.

I was just considering whether to leave when I remembered the note I’d seen earlier, and decided to take another quick look at it. I’d only glanced at it before, but this time I examined it carefully for clues.

Giden,

Here’s a blade for the new man. Send him ahead and we’ll set up his arrangements. Dinner is waiting, but not for you. Muvrulea is sick again so you’ve drawn sentry duty. Don’t worry, you’ll be getting a portion of his share. Stay alert, bounty hunters are seeking us, but I feel fairly secure up here.

Rels

‘Up here’? I walked slowly through the cave, looking for anything that might indicate a hidden stairway or something similar. Right near the entrance, I spotted something I hadn’t noticed before: a ledge up above, half-hidden by stalactites and overhanging rocks.

There was no way up except by levitation. Sighing, I retreated a little way into the cave and swapped my normal pants for the enchanted ones that Peakstar’s ghost had given me. Countless washes had failed to get rid of the stains or the smell, but at least the enchantment worked properly.

My hunch was right. A little way back from the ledge, I came across a small wooden door which presumably led to the bandits’ lair.

I hesitated outside the door, wondering how to proceed from here. I wasn’t sure how long I’d spent in here, but I guessed that by now it was probably night-time and at least some of the bandits would be asleep. Outlaws or not, the thought of having to slit a bunch of people’s throats while they slept was not an appealing one. But I didn’t have to, I realised – I’d only been told to kill Rels himself, not his companions.

There was enough charge left on my amulet to cast the Chameleon enchantment a few more times, so I did so and snuck through the door. There were only two people inside the first room – a sentry, whom I presumed was ‘Giden’, and a sleeping woman. In the next room were another woman and a man, both asleep. The man could have been Rels, but I decided to hold off killing him for the moment.

It’s a good thing I did, because in the last room I found another man who was very obviously the leader of the gang. He was a lot more heavily armed than any of the others, for a start, and his room was furnished to look like a private study. He was writing at a low table, and didn’t see or hear me creeping up behind him.

I knocked him out with my Star of the West power, not wanting anyone to hear his death cries, then drew my blade across his throat as he fell unconscious. Any guilt I might have felt quickly vanished when I read what he’d been writing:

We’ve struck a bargain with evil. While I am uncomfortable and feel some unease with our current arrangement, I believe these warrens will serve us well for some time. Those who hope to destroy me must be of stout spirit and cunning mind, for if they simply forge ahead in these caves, they may meet a fate far worse than death.

When we first discovered these caves and began our explorations, we were sure we had found refuge from our enemies. Little did we know, as we pushed into the interior galleries what we would find. In the final chamber, we came upon the ruined portal to a vast tomb. At first we were eager to chance upon some riches to fill our coffers, but instead we found ourselves within the nest of deadly creatures. By our wits and skill of arms, we were able to retreat from the dark lair. For a time we sealed the entry, but the threat continued to gnaw at us. It was Giden who conceived the plan with which we presented to those beings of darkness. In return for our right to dwell within these caves, we provide ‘sustenance’ for these creatures. To assist us in this venture, we have created a lure, a path for the bounty hunters and meddlesome folk to follow. The unwary will find themselves in the clutches of a black fate.

Muvrulea is very unhappy with the current conditions and I am finding myself concurring. This cannot come to a good end, but we must stay the course until a new safehold can be found.

So he’d been luring people into a trap to feed his vampire friend? How charming. Well, at least I could congratulate myself on having a ‘stout spirit’ and ‘cunning mind’.

No one outside the room seemed to have heard anything, but I slipped on the Divine Intervention amulet that Edwinna had given me in case I needed to make a hasty exit. Then I began to search the room for useful loot. A chest next to Rales contained a large amount of gold and several valuable gems, about 1,000 septims’ worth in all. There were also a good deal of Rising Force potions around the place, which would be useful the next time I went back to Vivec’s shrine.

When I’d finished looting the place, I Divine-Interventioned back to Sadrith Mora and spent the rest of the night at the Guild. The next morning I went to Hrundi to collect my payment, and showed him the ring and vampire dust. “Marara,” he murmured. “Yes, I’ve heard of her – she’s been slaughtering any humans who’ve gone into that tomb, and a few vampires as well. Folks say she was tired of her ‘unlife’, and wanted to be killed by one of her own kind.”

“Well, she’s out of luck,” I said. “At least I’ve brought her peace, I suppose. Or something. Anyway, I was wondering: might this be enough for promotion to Guardian rank?”

“Hmm.” He scratched his chin. “Well, killing off a vampire single-handed is certainly impressive. Come along to the practice rooms and I’ll test your skills.”

We fought a short practice duel – which I lost, though I still felt I hadn’t done too badly. I’d come a long way since my release from prison, and while I wasn’t quite a match for a hefty Nord like Hrundi, I was pretty close.

“Well, your skills are certainly up to scratch,” he admitted. “But I’m not sure you’ve done enough missions for the Guild to justify a promotion. I don’t have anything else for you right now, but you could try Lorbumol in Vivec. Just be a bit careful with some of the tasks he’ll give you.”

I didn’t need to be told that. Honestly, this was turning out to be much more of a hassle than I’d expected.

After selling off the gems I’d found and taking most of my money to the local bank, I was about to return to Ald’ruhn when I suddenly remembered that I had a Legion mission to complete. Radd Hard-Heart of Fort Moonmoth had asked me to rescue a missionary, Jocien Ancois, from the Erabenimsun Ashlander camp. I decided now was as good a time as any, since the camp was reasonably close to Sadrith Mora.

To get there I had to cross the chain of islands leading to the mainland, using my Water Walking spell. I could see the spires of Tel Fyr and Tel Aruhn, another Telvanni settlement, in the distance as I passed by. On reaching the shore I quickly found myself in the grey, ashy Molag Amur region, where a rough trail ran west between mountains and jagged rocks. I hadn’t gone too far before I heard footsteps somewhere behind me, and a distinctly human-sounding cough.

“Who’s there?” I barked, whirling around. There was no one in sight. “Come out and show yourself!”

A frightened Argonian face peeked out from behind a rock. Stepping around the rock to get a closer look at him, I saw that he was barefoot and wore only ragged pants. “What are you doing here?”

He backed away. “Who...who are you? You go now! Leave me alone. I must get home now.”

“‘Get home’? Get home to where?”

He hesitated, looking me over warily. “No, not home,” he said at last. “To the Argonian Mission in Ebonheart before they find me, that’s where I must go. The Tel Aruhn hunters be out looking for me, no doubt about it. If they find Reeh-Jah, that’s it for me!”

“So you’re a slave, are you?”

Reeh-Jah nodded. “Don’t tell no one you seen me. Please?”

I looked at him suspiciously. I was wary of people claiming to be escaped slaves after that business with Tul, but I had to admit, this guy did look like the genuine article. And unlike Tul, he was clearly reluctant rather than eager to ask for help.

“You’ll never make it alone,” I said eventually. “Want to come with me? You can tag along if you want, but I’ve got to take care of some other business before I can help you.”

“You want to help me?” He shook his head. “That a rare thing in these parts, I tell you what. Maybe you get us there, maybe not, but I rather be on my way than have them find me here.”

I set off for the Erabenimsun camp, along with Reeh-Jah. The campsite was gloomy and forbidding – a bare clearing, surrounded by sheer cliffs on all sides – and the tribespeople here made the Urshilaku and Ahemmusa look positively welcoming. Several times I tried to approach one of them, only for them to warn me off by pointedly reaching for their weapons. I wondered if Reeh-Jah’s presence had something to do with it.

Finally I came across a woman who at least seemed willing to speak to me. “Bless and be blessed,” I said, using a common Urshilaku greeting. “I’ve come here to look for a Breton called Jocien Ancois. Might you have seen him?”

“He is like the nix-hound chasing a bone,” she said with a snort. “We told him the Mabrigash wanted to hear him speak from his books. He went to them, and never returned.”

“Sorry to have to ask, but who is the Mabrigash?”

She sighed. “The wise-woman who left us, and our rules. She steals a man’s vital essence to make herself a powerful sorcerer.” Reeh-Jah looked a bit worried by this. “Her camp is to the west, along the lava. But she has others with her, and I would stay away.”

I decided to ignore her warning and start looking for the Mabrigash. At least as a woman, I didn’t need to worry about having my ‘vital essence’ stolen – whatever that meant.

Reeh-Jah and I set out west, looking for the lava stream, but it turned out to be harder to find than I’d expected. We followed one path for about a quarter of an hour before I realised I we were probably going in the wrong direction. By the time we got back to where we’d started, I was on the point of giving up – when I suddenly spotted something lying on the ground a short way away. It was a piece of paper.

The paper seemed to be a page from a book, but was so worn and faded that I couldn’t read it; all I could tell was that it came from a copy of A Brief History of the Empire. Glancing around, I spotted what looked like another page a short way down the path. Unless one of the Ashlanders had a secret passion for Imperial history, I guessed that this would lead us to Jocien.

I guessed right: after following the paper trail for a few minutes, we came in sight of the lava stream. I’d never seen one before, and I must admit it was quite an amazing sight – a literal river of fire. But by the Nine, it was hot. I couldn’t go nearer than a few feet without feeling like I’d stepped into a bread oven.

The trail eventually led us to a very small camp, with a single yurt. A couple of women were sitting by the fire outside. “Excuse me,” I said to one of them. “Are either of you the Mabrigash, by any chance?”

She fixed me with a defiant glare. “Yes, I am a mabrigash. We are the Ashlander witch-warriors, women who defy the man’s rules of behaviour for women, mastering the man’s weapons of war and the sorcerer’s powerful magics. Craven men whine that we steal their vital essences to feed our dark purposes, but men are fools and cowards. Only women can understand the secrets of the ghost snake and its hidden mysteries that make men tremble like maidens.”

Wow. Okay. “Well, good for you,” I said. “Sisters doing it for themselves, eh? Er, would you happen to have seen a man named Jocien Ancois?”

“Speak to Zennammu in the yurt.”

I went into the yurt, where a stern-looking woman was standing guard over a Breton man in a grubby robe – presumably Jocien. “I understand you’re holding this man prisoner,” I said to the mabrigash, after greeting her politely. “Is there any way I could persuade you to let him go?”

She looked amused. “You want to take Jocien from us? But how can we work our magic without a man?”

“Surely a bunch of strong, independent women like you don’t need a man to help you do magic?” I asked, hoping flattery might do the trick.

Zennammu wasn’t buying it, though. “You understand nothing, outlander. It is the essence of a man we need for our magics, not the man himself. We cannot let him go.”

“May I show you something, Zennammu?” I detached the leather pouch from my belt and opened it up to show her the vampire dust inside. “This is dust from a vampire I killed last night. I think that shows I can use ‘men’s weapons of war’ at least as well as you three.” I laid my hand on the hilt of my sword for emphasis. “I don’t want to fight you, but believe me, I will if I have to. It’s up to you.”

Zennammu digested this in silence. “I will let Jocien go if you can bring us a better man,” she said at last. “The brave hunter Assaba-Bentus of the Erabenimsun is young, strong, and handsome. If you bring him here, we will let Jocien go.”

I hesitated. I didn’t really want to trick some other poor guy into taking Jocien’s place – but if this Assaba-Bentus was everything Zennammu said, he could probably handle these women at least as well as I could. It was worth a try, at least.

Reeh-Jah and I left the camp and headed back along the trail. I really hoped I wouldn’t have to fight the women, to be honest. They might be a bunch of crazy witches who captured men and did unspeakable things to them involving vital essences, but I couldn’t help admiring them for standing up to that ‘woman’s place’ crap. Plus… there were three of them and one of me.

Back at the Erabenimsun camp, I found Assaba-Bentus with a party of warriors returning from a hunt. He did indeed seem to be young, strong and handsome, though a bit unkempt for my tastes. After sweetening him up with a hefty ‘gift’ of gold coins, I explained the situation, and asked if he’d be willing to help me.

He looked at me as if I were mad. “What? You want me to go live with the witch-women? Do you think I am a fool like Jocien Ancois? No, I will not go.”

“Afraid they’ll steal your precious vital essences?” I said with a wink.

“I am not afraid!” He looked indignant. “I am a hunter of the Erabenimsun, and I have proven my bravery many times. Besides, Mimanu already tried her charms on me. I let her think they were working and escaped the next morning.”

“So why not do the same thing again?” I asked. “Are you really going to pass up a chance like this?”

He still looked doubtful. “Oh well, never mind,” I said, shrugging. “I guess I’ll just have to fight them myself, if you’re not up to it.”

I made as if to leave, but he grabbed my arm. “No! I will show you that I am not afraid of any witch-woman. I will follow you to the mabrigash camp.”

Gods. Men are so predictable, aren’t they?

Assaba-Bentus followed me back to the mabrigash camp, where Zennammu was waiting outside the yurt. She could barely contain her glee when she saw him. “Ah yes,” she said, her eyes dancing. “Assaba-Bentus is indeed a better man. Thank you for bringing him here.”

She ducked back into the yurt, and a moment later Jocien Ancois emerged through the tent-flap. “Are you okay?” I asked him. “They didn’t steal too much… vital essence?”

“No, I am fine,” he said with a weak smile. “But thank you for dealing with my captors.”

I glanced over at Assaba-Bentus, who was sitting by the fire with the other women. He gave me a little wave. “Do not worry about me,” he half-whispered. “No witch-woman can hold a real warrior for long.”

I just hoped he was right about that. “Well, Jocien, what now?” I asked. Do you want me to take you back to Sadrith Mora?”

He shook his head. “I will find my own way back to the Erabenimsun. I must continue to teach them of the Empire and its ways.”

“Good gods, you’re not serious?”

But he was already heading off in the direction of the camp. “He’s crazy, right?” Reeh-Jah whispered, as we watched him go.

“Probably,” I said with a shrug. Some people never learn, I guess. Oh well, it wasn’t my problem any longer. He’d just better not expect me to rescue him a second time.

After sharing some food with Reeh-Jah, I offered to accompany him to Sadrith Mora, but he shook his head violently. “Please, not the Telvanni! They’ll grab me again for sure.”

“Look, just use this,” I said, offering him my Divine Intervention amulet. “It’ll take you straight to Wolverine Hall, the Imperial fortress. No one will ‘grab’ you there.”

But he wasn’t having any of it. The only way to avoid the Telvanni settlements was to go south through Molag Amur, down to the coast – but that would take days, I thought, my heart sinking. I considered leaving Reeh-Jah to his fate, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. There was no way he’d survive out here on his own.

“All right,” I said at last. “We’ll head south. But if we get lost, I’m teleporting out of there, so you’ll have to make your own way back to Ebonheart.”

A few hours later I was beginning to realise just what sort of task I’d taken on. Taking a slave 500 yards down the road to a safe house was one thing; escorting him over miles of barren, hostile territory was quite another. Reeh-Jah was pretty feeble and tired very easily, so our pace slowed to about half what it would have been if I’d been walking alone. He was also completely unarmed, so I had to constantly defend him against cliff racers and other blighted wildlife, not to mention sharing my limited rations of food and water with him.

To make things worse, I didn’t even have a clear idea of where I was going. Towards nightfall we stumbled across a signpost pointing towards the Temple settlement of Molag Mar, and decided to head for there. I guessed that it would take at least a couple more days to get there at our current pace.

The heat had been near-unbearable as we walked by the lava river, but when night fell out in the ashy desert, the temperature fell sharply. I was okay in my thick plate armour, but poor Reeh-Jah had to huddle up to me for warmth – and before you get any sort of ideas, let me say right now that it was about as much fun as a night with Dagoth Gares. I can only be grateful that no one came by to see the sight – an armoured human woman and a half-naked Argonian, both looking like they’d bathed in ash, curled up together in the shade of a large trama root. The bards would probably be writing comic songs about it for the next three decades.

By the time we finally reached Molag Mar, I was almost beginning to wish I’d just left him to fend for himself. I know it sounds terrible, but all I wanted at this point was to dump him off at the Mission so that I’d never have to see him again. But it didn’t end there, of course: I had to buy him some clothes, so that no one would realise he was an escaped slave, and then buy passage for both of us on board a ship to Ebonheart.

I’m not sure which of us was more relieved when we finally rolled up at the Argonian Mission. The head diplomat, Im-Kilaya, thanked me profusely for helping Reeh-Jah. “You have done a good thing here, Sera Ventura. You have helped one of our people with no promise of reward, and at great peril to yourself. Have you seen the Twin Lamps?”

By this time I had a hazy idea of how I was supposed to answer. “They… light the way to freedom?”

“The lamps burn brightly for you, I can see that.” He smiled. “Take this as a show of our gratitude.”

He presented me with an enchanted belt called a ‘Blood Belt’. I’d really have preferred it if he’d just paid me, but I was more concerned that I seemed to have joined an underground anti-slavery organisation without even meaning to. Story of my life, isn’t it?

It was still fairly early in the morning and I hadn’t bathed since leaving Molag Mar. I went to Fort Hawkmoth to clean myself up, and informed Frald the White that I’d rescued Jocien Ancois (though knowing him, he’d probably managed to get himself captured again by now). He promised to pass the news on to Radd Hard-Heart, though he didn’t have any more duties for me at the moment.

Afterwards I went to the bank in Vivec to discuss my next loan repayment. “Good news,” the bank manager said, as soon as I entered his office. “I’ve found a buyer for your ring… at least, I think I have.”

“You have? Who is it?”

He hesitated, looking a bit uncertain. “You’ll find him in the Ghorak Manor in Caldera,” he said at last. “Answers to the name ‘Creeper’. He’s offered to buy it for thirty thousand septims.”

“This isn’t anything… illegal, is it?” I asked suspiciously.

“Oh no. Not that I know of, at least.” He paused. “But, er, a bit of advice: I suggest you keep this as quiet as possible. I think you’ll understand why when you meet him.”

I wasn’t sure whether to believe him. Clearly there was something dodgy about this ‘Creeper’ guy – well, with a name like that, how could there not be? – but on the other hand, if he was the only person willing to buy my ring, I had to give it a try. I couldn’t believe the construction costs would be my only expense if I had to run a stronghold.

On my way to the Mages’ Guild, I once again got that nagging feeling that I was being followed. I paused for a while near one of the stalls, trying to catch a glimpse of my stalker out of the corner of my eye. He was a fairly nondescript type, not the kind you’d notice if you passed him in the street, but I could swear he was the same person I’d seen before in both Vivec and Ald’ruhn. This had gone on long enough, I thought.

I turned around and walked straight over to him – noticing how, just for a moment, he seemed to be trying to back away into the shadows. “Excuse me,” I said. “Is there some kind of a problem?”

“No, sera,” he said, with a look of wide-eyed surprise.

I lowered my voice slightly. “Then why are you following me?”

“You must be mistaken, sera. I’m not following you.”

“Then make sure you don’t start.” I gave him a threatening look, then turned and walked away. Either I managed to scare him off, or he was a lot more careful from then on, because I never saw him again after that.

I took the Guild Guide to the pleasant little Imperial town of Caldera, and made my way to Ghorak Manor. Immediately I got the feeling something was very wrong: the windows were boarded up and the place had the general look of a crumbling, abandoned building. I could almost have believed the bank manager had set me up, but why on Nirn would he do something like that?

The inside of the house was even more disturbing. The wall hangings were crooked, broken bottles and overturned furniture littered the floor, and there was a large heap of ash in one corner. The inhabitants – all Orcs – were only half-dressed and looked like pretty rough customers. If I hadn’t been well-armed, I might just have turned around and hurried back out.

Instead I plucked up my courage and walked over to one of the men. “Ada Ventura. I’m looking for someone named Creeper?”

A wide grin spread over the Orc’s face. “E’s upstairs.”

Getting nervous with every minute, I made my way up to the next floor. Up here were a couple more Orcs and – a pet scamp? This was getting weirder and weirder. “Creeper?” I said hesitantly, looking at the first Orc.

“Hello Caldera! I’m here all week!”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. That squeaky voice had come not from the Orc, but from the scamp. It had to be some kind of trick, surely?

“Excuse me,” I said faintly to the Orc. “Did that scamp just speak?”

He chuckled. “Weren’t expecting that, were you Cyrodiil? Yeah, that’s Creeper. You wanna buy something from him?”

I turned to look at the scamp, still half convinced that the Orcs were playing a trick on me. “Sorry,” I said weakly. “I didn’t realise scamps could… talk.”

“No worries.” It was definitely the scamp speaking – I could see his lips moving. “C’mon...help a scamp out,” he continued. “You gotta need something. I’ve got booze....”

I took a few very cautious steps towards him. “Actually I was hoping you would buy something from me.”

“So let’s see it.”

Carefully, still expecting to be jumped from behind at any minute, I took the ring from my pouch and held it out to Creeper so he could examine it. “Thirty thousand, take it or leave it,” he said instantly.

I took it. Mad I might be, but I wasn’t quite at the stage where I would stand there haggling with a scamp.

He didn’t give me the thirty thousand drakes in cash, of course. Instead he gave me a bank draft, which appeared genuine enough. I teleported out of the house as soon as I’d finished examining it, not wanting to stay there a moment longer than I had to, and a short while later I re-entered the Bank of Vvardenfell in Vivec.

“I see you found Creeper,” said the manager, seeing the expression on my face.

I flung the paper down on his desk. “Let’s just never speak of this again, shall we?”

When I’d finished sorting out payment for my loan, and stored my newfound wealth in the bank, I decided to return to Ald’ruhn. It had been about a week since I’d given Galsa Gindu the construction contract, and I wanted to check how my stronghold was progressing. After stopping for a meal at the Rat in the Pot, I went to speak to her at the Council Hall.

“Ah, Ada. I’m glad to see you.” She smiled at me. “I want you to make sure your stronghold is being built on schedule. It is being built among the rows of stones, the Bal Isra, on the east side of the road from Ald’ruhn to Maar Gan. Go there and speak with the foreman, Bugdul gro-Kharbush.”

It took me the rest of the afternoon to walk out to Bal Isra. Actually finding the stronghold was more difficult than I had expected, as it was being built at the top of a hill, so far up that it couldn’t even be seen from the road below. Why would anyone want to build a stronghold here, miles from anywhere? Who was going to attack a place like this?

I was even more surprised when I actually saw the place. The construction site was fairly bare, with a few large tents dotted around the place, yet the main building appeared to be almost finished. It was basically just a big shell, of course – most of the building work would take place underground – but the door and windows had already been put in, and it looked carved and polished. Did they just have a big stock of the things somewhere?

One of the Orc builders, who appeared to be overseeing the work, eventually noticed me standing there. “You here about the stronghold?” he asked. “Tell Galsa Gindu things are fine here. The work will be done soon.”

“Are you Bugdul gro-Kharbush?”

He nodded. “I’m the building foreman for Indarys Manor.”

I was about to ask him about the house, when something occurred to me. “Hold on, ‘Indarys Manor’? Why not Ventura Manor?”

“Er…” Bugdul suddenly looked rather panicked. I could see him casting around for an excuse, but Orcs aren’t exactly quick with words at the best of times. “I don’t know. That’s just what the bosses told me.”

Okay, I thought. There’s something a bit weird going on here.

Back in Ald’ruhn, I tried to talk to Galsa about what I’d seen and heard, but she waved me away. “I’m very busy, Ada. Besides, I was just about to finish work for the day. Come back in another week, and the next stage of construction should be finished.”

There wasn’t much I could do except thank her and leave, but I was determined to take these things up with her the next time we met. Once again, I was starting to get the feeling there was something I wasn’t being told.

Congrats on your new job!!!

New job woo hoo.

I've always wondered about those "travel stained pants" from Peakstar (the Incontinent. )

Thanks! Only problem is having to get up early again all of a sudden.

Allow me to add to the chorus of others complimenting you on gainful employment. Well done.

Your remarks do raise an issue that I hadn't put much thought towards: I now realize that Ada's adventures were probably written and posted before, just not here. Is there any place I can go that has the complete story, without having to go to the Bethesda run forums? I hate that place, and really only went to read Foxy's guide for combat (which still needs to get posted here...)

As for the story itself: Have you ever thought that the Travel-Stained Pants were stained with the same chemicals normally processed to form dyes in brown, black, and various 'earthy' colors?

Alternatively, why not go with the stains of the blood of enemies? I generally find the "Wallpaper provided by Leonidas and his 300" motif a cool decorating option. Why not extend it to clothing?

Great work with the Creeper. Truly one of my favorite parts of Morrowind, and his conversion to a companion dog in one's pack in Oblivion was a true shame. Funny guy though, and you captured his spirit perfectly.

I believe it's posted on FanFiction.net.

Here. No screenshots unfortunately.

She is also on the Bethesda Forum WITH screenshots! Helena can provide the link more easily than I can, lol.


@ Helena - oh yeah, getting up early when you have become used to sleeping later - the first week is the killer, the first day the worst of them all - hope you nailed it !!!

Thanks. Though I'll probably still remain here for the screen shots. Maybe I should go back and start adding those to mine...



No. No, no, noooo. No No N-No, No No No No N-No Nooo!

I refuse to go there. It's a horrible, dark place of doom and inane rules regarding thread length that frustrates me. So, No. I'll wait for screenies here rather than go...there.

Chapter 30: Where It All Began

I didn’t want to take any more Fighters’ Guild contracts from Lorbumol gro-Aglakh, but since none of the others had any work for me, I didn’t have much choice. His next contract was for a woman called Adraria Vandacia, who was hiding out in Seyda Neen – the village where I’d been dropped off by the prison ship. I probably should have gone to Percius Mercius first to ask him about the contract, but there wasn’t time before catching the overnight silt strider from Vivec.

It seemed strange to be back in Seyda Neen, the place where I’d caught my first glimpse of Morrowind. How much simpler things had seemed back then – before I’d got caught up with ancient conspiracies, warring religious cults, a fanatical theocratic government, a political tussle between Great House councillors, and a Guild with a deep dark secret. If only I’d just followed my instincts and jumped on board the first ship headed back West.

Problems started to crop up very quickly. Unfortunately, the warehouse where Adraria Vandacia was holed up belonged to the Census and Excise – and was locked, with the only door in plain view of the rest of the village. I had to skulk around the back for the better part of an hour before I got the chance to use an unlocking scroll. Once I got in, I immediately realised that the place wasn’t ‘shut up’ at all – there were people working there, including at least one guard. I’m actually surprised that no one stopped me as I walked through the building; presumably my Imperial uniform gave them the impression I was supposed to be there.

At the top of the stairs I found myself in a well-lit chamber. A middle-aged Imperial woman was sitting at a desk, studying some accounts. She was so obviously not an outlaw that I was completely at a loss for anything to say to her.

At that moment she looked up and saw me. “Yes?” she said rather sharply. “Can I help you?”

“Are you Adraria Vandacia?”

“I am. What do you want?”

Well, what was I supposed to say? “The Fighters’ Guild sent me to kill you; don’t suppose you have any idea why?” All at once I was struck by the ridiculousness of the situation. What the heck was I even doing here?

“I… nothing,” I said. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry to have bothered you, sera.”

Leaving a bewildered-looking Adraria behind me, I turned and walked straight out of the building. As soon as I was safely out of Seyda Neen, I cast Almsivi Intervention. It was time I had a long talk with Percius Mercius.

“Hello, Ada,” he said in surprise, when I marched into the Ald’ruhn Fighters’ Guild. “Have you made Guardian yet?”

“No, I haven’t,” I said. “Because the only person who’ll give me duties is Lorbumol gro-Aglakh, and the things he’s asking me to do are completely insane. He just sent me to Seyda Neen to kill a woman named Adraria Vandacia, and when I got there I found she was a bloody Census and Excise employee!”

Percius frowned. “Adraria Vandacia is an Imperial tax agent. I don’t know why Lorbumol would give you a bounty on her.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Percius, I’m going to be frank with you. Either you’re going to have to promote me to Guardian yourself, or you’ll just have to tell me what’s going on anyway. I’m not doing any more missions for Lorbumol.”

“Oh, very well,” he said with a sigh. “You’re a Guardian. Now, come to my room so that we can talk in private.”

He led me into a small bedroom at the back of the Guild. “Sjoring Hard-Heart is trying to make deals with the Camonna Tong,” he said bluntly, as soon as the door closed behind him. “He thinks he’s using them, but I think it’s the other way around. These Camonna Tong bosses have been working here in Morrowind since before the Empire came, and I don’t think we can fool them. When I was the Master of the Fighters Guild here, I stayed out of local politics.”

I sank down onto the bed. Obviously I’d known something very shady was going on, but I hadn’t realised it was quite as bad as this. “So all this time, I’ve basically been working for the Camonna Tong?”

Percius nodded grimly. “The only way to save the Fighters Guild is to get rid of Sjoring Hard-Heart and those loyal to him. You’ll need to kill his chief supporters, Lorbumol and Eydis Fire-Eye… and after that, you’ll have to deal with Hard-Heart himself.”

I didn’t know what to say. I’d no love for Lorbumol gro-Aglakh, but Eydis… I remembered how friendly she’d been when I’d first arrived in Vvardenfell, and how she’d helped me when I’d had nowhere else to go.

“Do I really have to kill them?” I asked. “You don’t think there’s any way I get them to change their minds? He just looked sad.

“You’ll need good armour if you’re going to have a chance,” he said at last. “Let me show you something.” He opened up one of the storage chests standing against the wall, and I saw that it was full of Orcish armour. “This was a gift from an Imperial Legionnaire stationed here several years ago. He was unjustly accused of murder, and I was able to find out the truth and free him. And this” – he showed me another chest, containing glass armour – “was another gift, from Athyn Sarethi of House Redoran. He had the armour made for me after I enlisted the Fighters Guild to help clean up the last outbreak of Blighted creatures back in ’24 that nearly destroyed Maar Gan.”

“Really?” I asked. “Is Athyn the lord of Maar Gan, then?” I could have sworn he’d told me his lands were in the South Gash, the area south of Ald’ruhn.

“No,” he said, with a wry smile. “That would be Lady Brara Morvayn – the widow of Remas Morvayn. He was in charge of Maar Gan at the time.”

“Then… I don’t understand.”

“You will, once you’ve been in Ald’ruhn a bit longer. ‘On behalf of the Council’ was what Sarethi said, but I could read between the lines well enough.” He shook his head. “Anyway, take any of this, if you want it. It might help you fight Sjoring Hard-Heart.”

I suspected I did understand what he meant about the Council, and it made me very angry. That was just like Athyn, I thought. I could only imagine how much it had cost him to have a full set of glass armour forged for Percius. No wonder the Sarethi family had ‘fallen on hard times’, as he put it, if he kept doing things like that.

“I don’t know,” I said at last. “I’ll have to think about it, Percius. I mean, killing outlaws or bandits is one thing, but our own people…”

“I understand. Well, think it over.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder, and patted it a couple of times before leaving the room.

I left the Fighters’ Guild, deep in thought. I was still pretty reluctant to get involved in this any further, and I decided to mull it over for a while before taking any action. With a week left before the first stage of my Redoran stronghold was completed, I decided to see if the Legion had anything else for me to do.

Frald the White in Ebonheart was willing to oblige. “Not a pleasant business, though, I’m afraid,” he told me. “An Ordinator named Suryn Athones has been spreading lies about the Order of Ebonheart. Someone needs to stop his slanders.”

By now I was coming to understand how these things worked. “Stop his slanders ‘with extreme prejudice’, you mean?”

“Right you are,” he said, baring his teeth in a rather unpleasant grin. “Find him and silence his lying mouth with blood.”

Talos, this was just as bad as the Fighters’ Guild business. Why did people have to act like this when they knew it could only lead to bloodshed? I only hoped I could knock some sense into the guy’s head before I ended up having to kill him.

I found Athones with a couple of other Ordinators in a small, cramped office of Vivec’s Temple canton. None of them seemed exactly pleased to see a Legion soldier there, but that was hardly surprising. “I’ve been sent here by Frald the White,” I told Suryn, getting straight to the point. “He tells me you’ve been spreading lies about our Order.”

“I spoke nothing but the truth,” he said, with a snort. “The Legion is just a mob of blunt-eared apes playing at being soldiers. Is it just your cowardice? Or the incompetence of your so-called Knights? Or is it just the way you smell?”

“Nice to see the mature tone of the debate being preserved here,” I said sarcastically, resisting the urge to knee him hard in his heavily-protected groin area. “Since we’re so cowardly and incompetent, I take it you won’t mind duelling me to prove your unquestionable superiority?” He said nothing. “Or could it be that you’re the coward, perhaps?”

Behind the golden mask, I saw his eyes flash. “So be it, n’wah. You’ve chosen your own death.”

We drew our swords. I’d never fought an Ordinator before, but I wasn’t foolish enough to imagine this would be an easy fight. Just finding a place to hit him was difficult enough, as he was almost completely covered in armour. Those flashy uniforms might look like overkill, but they served a purpose.

My practice against Hrundi had paid off, however. I fought defensively rather than aggressively, waiting for him to tire himself out, and then devoted my efforts to knocking his weapon from his hand. At last I succeeded, and within seconds I had him pinned up against the wall, the tip of my blade to his exposed throat.

“Care to take back those slanders now?” I asked him.

He glowered at me from under his mask. “I would rather die!”

“I hope you mean that, Suryn,” I said wearily, “because this is your last chance. Is that your final answer?” He was silent. “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

In answer, he spat in my face. I was beginning to realise this guy probably wasn’t entirely sane, but I could hardly back down after the threat I’d just made.

I couldn’t see the other Ordinators’ expressions as I left the room, but then I didn’t need to. I’d killed one of their own, and I knew that from that moment onwards they’d be out for my blood. Unbelievably, my chances of being recognised as the Nerevarine had just got even slimmer.

By the time I’d cleaned myself up, eaten and got back to Ebonheart, I was feeling even more depressed than before. It was all so pointless, I thought. A man had just died because he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge that a foreigner could be equal to him – not even ‘better’, just ‘equal’. He’d seen with his own eyes that I was neither a coward, nor incompetent, and yet he couldn’t accept it. What was wrong with these people?

So when I ran into Varvur on the plaza near the docks, I was surprised by how quickly my black mood vanished. My heart leapt, and I felt a buzz of happiness and excitement that was almost enough to drive the thought of Suryn Athones out of my head. I hadn’t felt like this since my days of teenage crushes.

Varvur’s eyes lit up when he saw me. “Ada,” he said, hurrying over to greet me. “We seem to meet everywhere, no? What are you doing in Ebonheart?”

“Just some Legion business. How about you?”

“I have been to deliver a message to Llerar Mandas at the Council chambers.” He hesitated. “I was about to leave, but… well, you helped me with my Redoran business. Perhaps I could help you with your tasks for the Legion?”

I didn’t have any idea what Frald might ask me to do next, but I didn’t see how it could hurt. “Sure! Why not?” I said blithely.

Unfortunately my good mood didn’t last long. As it turned out, Frald’s next task for me was even more unpleasant than the last. It seemed that a fellow Knight, Saprius Entius, had been accused of murder and was hiding out from the Ordinators in Vivec.

“The Ordinators are too prejudiced to give him a fair trial,” Frald said bluntly. After what I’d just been through, I found that hard to argue. “I know a way to get him to the mainland where he will be tried with Imperial justice. Find him before the Ordinators do, and bring him back to me.”

As he spoke, I felt my heart sink. The Ordinators would already be out to get me after the business with Suryn Athones; the last thing I needed was another job that would put me directly in conflict with them. If I got caught trying to help Saprius, I’d be arrested or even killed. I agreed to take on the job, but only reluctantly.

I didn’t think Varvur would be happy to hear what I’d been asked to do, but I hadn’t expected him to object quite so violently. By the time I’d finished explaining he was looking distinctly grim. “So the Legion wants you to help a murderer escape justice?”

“No, of course not! Frald said he’ll be tried once they get him back to Cyrodiil.”

“And you believe this?” He didn’t bother to hide the flash of scorn in his eyes.

“Yes, I do, actually,” I said. “I know Frald, and I don’t think he’s a liar. Besides, why else would they be trying to get him out of the country?”

Varvur threw up his hands in disgust. “So that he can avoid being tried for murder, of course! Everyone knows the Empire prefers to cover up the crimes of their own people where it might embarrass them. Even you cannot deny this!”

I felt a growing knot of anger in my stomach. “Are you saying my people aren’t capable of giving him a fair trial?”

“It seems to me that you are saying my people cannot. If the crime was committed in Morrowind, why should he not be tried here?”

“He won’t get a trial here! Varvur, this is the Ordinators we’re talking about. They’ll stick you in the Ministry of Truth just for looking at them funny, and you expect me to believe they won’t just kill him on sight?”

“I don’t believe they will. And in truth, I don’t even care so much. If he is a murderer, he deserves to die that way.”

“Because no one was ever falsely accused of murder, I suppose,” I snapped. Varvur stiffened, and his lips turned slightly white. I’d been thinking of myself, of course, but at that moment I realised it could just as easily apply to him. Oops.

We spent the rest of the journey back to Vivec in silence. “I take it you’re not coming with me?” I asked Varvur, as we were stepping off the quay. He shook his head. “Well, see you around, Varvur.”

“Goodbye,” he said stiffly, and turned away without another word. My throat ached, and I felt a sudden wild urge to run after him and apologise – at least explain what I’d meant by that last comment. But, being the stiff-necked idiot I was, I didn’t.

Instead I went to the Fighters’ Guild and removed my armour. If I started asking about Saprius Entius while dressed in full Legion armour, people were bound to get suspicious. Rather than ask at the Guild, where people knew me, I went outside the canton and asked a few of the more shady-looking types if they’d heard the name. “I did see one of your kind over by the Arena,” one of them offered at last.

I took a gondola to the Arena and made some more enquiries. Finally I discovered that Saprius was hiding out in a storeroom somewhere in the canalworks. I made my way there, doing my best to avoid the Ordinators as I went, and finally found Saprius – still dressed in his Imperial uniform – inside one of the small, dusty storage cellars. He must have had an ally, because there was a bedroll set up there and someone had obviously been bringing him food.

When I entered the room, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was on his feet in an instant, his fingers closing around the handle of a large warhammer. “Who are you? Are you in the Imperial Legion?”

I nodded. “The Ordinators have been looking for me,” he whispered. “I’ve done a terrible thing. Can you...” Suddenly his eyes filled with horror. “Look out! Behind you!”

Before I even had the chance to respond, a blast of magicka sent me sprawling forward onto the bedroll. I rolled over to see two heavily-armed Ordinators bearing down on us. Saprius was trying desperately to hold them back, but he could only handle one of them at once. As I lay there, still stunned by the effects of the magicka, the other one advanced on me with sword drawn.

I grasped wildly for my own sword and just managed to parry the blow, but I knew I couldn’t hold out for long. My hands and arms were weak, I had no armour, and I couldn’t get up from a sitting position while still defending myself. Just as I was beginning to think it was hopeless, the impossible happened: the man stumbled suddenly, and dropped his sword. He sank to his knees, clutching at the back of his neck.

As Saprius finished off the other Ordinator with a heavy blow from his hammer, a young man stepped through the doorway, blood dripping from his sword. It was Varvur.

“Varvur?” I gasped, thinking I must be dreaming. “What are you doing here?”

“I changed my mind. When I saw you going towards the Arena, I decided to come after you and apologise.” He shook his head. “But then I realised some Ordinators were following you, so I stayed behind them, and saw what happened. And… well, I could not let them kill you.”

I closed my eyes, trying to sort out my jumbled thoughts. “Okay… right now, we just need to get out of here. Saprius, take this amulet.” I handed him my Divine Intervention amulet. “Varvur, how are you going to get out of here? The Ordinators –”

“It’s all right. I think I can get out of the canton without being seen by them.” He gave my arm a quick squeeze. “I will see you at the Ebonheart docks.”

He hurried off before I had the chance to object. Saprius wasted no time in casting the enchantment, so all I could do was follow him to Ebonheart, leaving Varvur to face the wrath of the Ordinators.

The next few minutes were some of the worst of my entire life. All I could think was that Saprius and I had basically murdered two Ordinators – and what was worse, I’d got Varvur mixed up in it as well. I could only imagine what it would do to his family, and to the House, if it was discovered that Athyn Sarethi’s son had been involved in those deaths. And if he was caught by the guards at the Arena… I didn’t want to think about it.

“If my friend dies because of you, I’ll kill you myself,” I snarled at Saprius. He looked genuinely scared.

Frald thanked me warmly when we both reached Fort Hawkmoth. “This helm was my father’s when he served in the Legions,” he said, handing me an old Legion helmet with a spell reflection enchantment. “He had it enchanted and gave it to me – now I’m giving it to you. And while we’re about it, I think this merits a promotion to Knight Protector.”

I tried to look happy about the promotion, and the extra pieces of Templar armour that came with it, but my heart wasn’t in it. All I could think about was Varvur. When I finally reached the docks, and found him standing near the boat that had just arrived from Vivec, I nearly cried with relief.

“You were right about the Ordinators,” he said quietly.

I flung my arms around him and squeezed him tightly. “Sorry,” I choked. He didn’t say anything more, just hugged me back. It was dark already, and there weren’t many other people around to see us, but at that moment I wouldn’t have cared if they did.

We boarded the ship just before it departed for Vivec. “Why did you come after me?” I asked softly, as we sat alone in the hold, leaning against some packing crates. “You must have known the risk you were running.”

“How could I not? You saved my life and my honour. I always wished there was something I could do for you in return.” He stretched out a hand and, when I didn’t react, cautiously laid it on mine. “Now we are a little more equal.”

Once again I felt my eyes smart. “Thanks,” I mumbled. “Well, you’ve certainly more than repaid me for it. You’re a good friend, Varvur.”

If he’d wanted to kiss me, that would have been the perfect moment. And for a moment, I honestly thought he was going to – but for some reason he seemed to hesitate. “Ada…”

“Yes?”

Our eyes met. For a second we just looked at each other, and then suddenly his gaze fell away. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

I looked away, trying not to show how disappointed I was. Normally I’d have had no problem making the first move in a relationship, but this was different. This was Athyn Sarethi’s son, a Redoran noble. If he wasn’t prepared to take the initiative, there was no way I could do it for him.

We ended up going to the Flowers of Gold to share a meal and drown our sorrows. As we ate and drank, we discussed the day’s events. “I was very stupid,” he said, referring to my comment about people being falsely accused of murder. “I thought you said it to be hurtful. But of course, later I realised you were thinking of yourself, not of me. I am sorry.”

“Forget it. None of it matters.”

He shook his head. “I cannot understand why the Ordinators would do this. I know that they sometimes can be… over-zealous, but they have always treated me with respect.”

“You’re a Redoran Councillor’s son,” I said with a sigh. “Of course they’re going to treat you well. If you’re a commoner – or, gods forbid, an outlander – they think they can insult you as much as they like. The one I met this morning told me that Imperials were ‘blunt-eared apes.”

“Apes? He really said this?”

“Yup. Also that our soldiers are cowardly and incompetent… oh, and we smell, apparently.”

Varvur drew in breath sharply. “He will regret it. Only tell me his name, and –”

“It’s OK,” I interrupted. “I already fought him myself. He refused to surrender even when I had my sword at his throat.” I slumped back in my chair, shaking my head.

Varvur stared down moodily into his tankard of ale. He didn’t say anything more, but I could see that he was still angry. “Why do they hate us so much?” I asked eventually. “The Ordinators, I mean?”

He shrugged. “They are Indoril.”

“Like Nerevar?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“Yes.” He looked up in surprise. “You know of Nerevar, then?”

“Not much,” I said hastily. “Just what I’ve read in books here and there. Anyway, what’s that got to do with hating the Legions?”

“Well, House Indoril is very close to the Temple… and the Temple does not at all like the Empire. Did you know that many Indorils committed suicide after the Armistice?”

I stared. “You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. They are known for being… I can’t think of the word in your language. Very, very deeply religious?”

“Fanatical?” He nodded.

I took a long draught from my glass of shein. “So in that case, why does the Temple dislike us so much? Okay, we worship different gods, but…”

“There are many reasons, I think. The Empire is a threat to their power, of course, but also…” Varvur paused, looking a bit uncomfortable. “If I tried to explain, I’m afraid that it would offend you.”

“Go on,” I told him. “It can’t be worse than anything I’ve heard already.”

“Well… they believe that Imperials are greedy and unscrupulous.” He cringed slightly, avoiding my eyes. “They… they say that you worship Fortune.”

“Worship Fortune?” I had a sudden vision of chapelgoers kneeling in prayer before a huge pile of gold coins. (Actually, in a few cases that wouldn’t be too far off the mark.) “What do you mean?”

“One of the Nine Divines… the god Zenithar?”

I frowned. “Zenithar’s the god of commerce. It’s not the same thing.”

“No?”

“He sets down the rules for honest trading. It’s not just about making as much money as possible.” I explained about the oath I’d once sworn to Zenithar, and how no one would trade with me until I’d fulfilled it.

“I see,” Varvur said eventually. “I did not know this. But…” He looked as if he were choosing his words very carefully. “Zenithar may teach these rules, but not all Imperials follow them. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“And do all Dunmer follow the Tribunal’s teachings?” I asked, a little defensively.

“Of course not, but the difference is that you are strangers here. Many Dunmer wish that the Empire had never come to Morrowind. And when people see Imperials who lie, and cheat, and abuse their power…” He exhaled wearily. “It is much easier to believe these stories, that say they care for nothing but gold.”

There was a long, awkward silence. “I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I knew it would offend you.”

“Nah, it’s OK,” I said, shrugging. “I’m not offended.” I could see his point, to be honest. But the fact was, that brief conversation had brought back all those nagging doubts I’d been trying desperately to ignore. Once again I could hear that treacherous little voice in my head: You don’t belong here. They’ll never accept you as Nerevarine.

To take my mind off it, I ended up drinking rather more than I should. A lot more, in fact. Somewhere towards midnight I got the bright idea of teaching Varvur some Cyrodiilic drinking songs – and I’m reliably informed that what my voice lacks in tunefulness, it makes up for in loudness. By the time I’d finished ‘Oh, Cyrodiil’ and ‘Green and Gracious Land’, I think the entire tavern was staring at us.

Someone at a nearby table shook his head. “What is it with you outlanders? You come here to Morrowind, and then spend all your time singing about how much better it is back home. Why don’t you just go back there?”

“Can’t,” I mumbled, slurping at my glass. “ ’m the Neverevereveragaine.”

The man groaned. “Almsivi preserve us. Not another one.”

“What is it?” asked a second voice.

“Another outlander who thinks she’s the Nerevarine.” He sighed. “Must be Tirdas again.”

By this time Varvur was looking distinctly worried. “Ada, it is getting late. I think we should leave.” He slid his arms around me and tugged me gently to my feet, guiding me towards the exit. When I stood up, it felt like the whole room was slowly spinning.

“Don’ believe me, huh?” I slurred, as we passed the first man’s table. “Well, I’ll show you. Got a, uh, magic ring thingy… Moon-’n-Star.” I pulled off my glove to show him, but unfortunately I’d forgotten that I wasn’t wearing it right now. “Well… ’shere somewhere.”

“Come, Ada.” Varvur practically dragged me towards the door of the tavern. As he bundled me out, I heard somebody say, “If she’s the Nerevarine, Almsivi help us all.”

Outside, he propped me up against a wall just around the corner from the tavern. I vaguely hoped that he might try to make out with me – though I was starting to feel a bit sick, to be honest – but he didn’t seem to be in the mood. “I must go to an alchemist,” he told me. “Wait for me here… and please, try not to do anything foolish.”

I have no idea how he managed to find an alchemist’s shop that was still open at that time of night, but a few minutes later he was back, clutching a potion in his hand. “Drink this,” he told me. I gulped down the contents of the small vial, and immediately sobered up.

“Ugh. Thanks,” I said. “Went a bit overboard there, I think.”

Varvur was shaking his head. “Ada, are you insane? Why did you tell those people that you are the Nerevarine?”

“Oh sh*t. I did, didn’t I?” He nodded. “Well, never mind. I don't think any of them noticed.”

“Ada, please. I know you love to joke, but try to be serious just this once.” He looked genuinely distressed. “You must understand how dangerous it is to say things like that, even in jest. I know it must seem strange to you, as your culture is so different, but – ”

I held up a hand. “I already know these things, Varvur. Look… I think perhaps you should speak to your father.”

“My father? Why?” Suddenly his face turned several shades paler. “You… surely you are not serious?”

“Let me show you something.” I glanced around to check that no one else was nearby, then opened up my pouch. Carefully I took out the Moon-and-Star, holding it between my thumb and forefinger, and held it out to Varvur.

For a moment he just stared at it blankly. Then, as I turned it slightly so that the moon and star decoration was uppermost, realisation dawned. He jumped back as if it had scorched him, and uttered a word in Dunmeris that I’d never even heard before. “Ada… is that…?”

I nodded. “But how – but where did you…?” Suddenly his furrowed brow cleared a little. “That was why you were visiting the Ashlanders!”

He caught on quickly, I had to give him that. I nodded again. “Then… you truly believe that you are the Nerevarine? But – but you are –”

“An outlander, yeah. It’s in the prophecy.”

Varvur seemed to be struggling to take this in. “But… Ada, why didn’t you tell me this?”

“Why do you think? I haven’t told anyone yet apart from your father – and I only told him because I was at my wits’ end.” I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes briefly. “Varvur… I really think you should speak to him about it. It’s just that it’s getting very late, and it’s a long story, and I really, really don’t feel up to explaining the whole thing right now.”

“I understand. I will speak to him.” He hesitated, shaking his head. “I’m sorry… this is just so hard to believe. Almost like a dream.”

“I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you before,” I said. “But… you can see why, right? After what you were just telling me…”

“Yes, I can. Well… I will see you in Ald’ruhn, perhaps.” There was a new light in his eyes when he looked at me, something between awe and fear, with perhaps just a touch of hurt. I got the feeling I’d just scotched any remaining chance of a relationship between us. Not that I could really blame him – I think I’d have got cold feet if a potential boyfriend revealed himself as a reincarnated Indoril warlord.

“Bye, Varvur.” I slipped the ring back into my pouch, and held out my arms to him. He hugged me, very tentatively this time, and then we went our separate ways. I don’t think anyone could have guessed how hard I was trying not to cry.

I love this:




It really separates Dunmer and Imperial language and culture.

Oh, I remember this chapter !!! Poor Ada !!!

Stupid over-zealous Ordinators, always screwing things up. They're definitely people that can't seem to let something go. I myself made the mistake of once forgetting to take off the helmet and cuirass that you get for a reward after killing that Dreamer lady in the underworks, and after that they wouldn't stop attacking me. Never chose that reward again, always opted for the magic belt they gave you instead.

But it does give me a useful joke for Morrowind:

A young tourist straight from Cyrodiil enters a bar in Balmora, and notices that the only empty seats are next to a lonesome, scarred man sitting by himself at the end of the bar. With nowhere else to sit, he takes a spot next to the man, and buys him a drink.

"Thanks lad," says the scarred fellow, and with a quick glance the other patrons stop giving the young boy evil looks.

"There a reason they all don't seem to like you?" asks the tourist.

"Comes from me' name," says the scarred one.

"What's that?"

"Well, I was named Ace by me' ma', but that ain't all of it."

"What do you mean?" asks the tourist.

"Well, I fulfilled them Nerevarine prophecies 'bout a year ago, but do they call me 'Ace the Nerevarine'? NO!"

"No?" asks the tourist, realizing who he's sitting with.

"No," says the man, sipping his sujamma. "And I killed Sjoring Hard-Heart, became local Master o' the Guild of Fighters. But do they call me 'Ace the Guild-Master'?"

"No?" ventures the tourist.

"No!" says Ace. "And I beat Trebonius in a magical duel, became Arch-Mage for all of Vvardenfell. But do they call me 'Arch-Mage Ace'?!?"

"No..." says the younger one, more slowly this time.

"NO!" Now fuming, Ace takes a long swig, emptying his drink. "But you wake up next to one dead Ordinator..."

Hee. I suspect Ada will have collected a good deal of unsavoury nicknames by the end of her career...