As far as I could tell, it held no enchantment.
Except of course that whole blood of a god thing...

Again, some good examples of riding skillz, between the warm-up and cool-down times, and of course stabling the stallions. Then Blanco shows that he is still full of surprises. Apparently he is a WitchHorse of the Western Reach after all.

Maybe you should have titled this Homecoming? Julian's return to Cloud Ruler felt more like coming home than when she went to Anvil. I think because Anvil represents a past that she has grown beyond in so many ways, for better and worse. While Cloud Ruler is her future as a Blade, where her new family is: Jauffre, Martin, Caroline, Steffan, etc...

They have made me proud to be counted as a Blade.
Indeed, and now Julian identifies herself as one without hesitation, but with pride instead. I think this one line summed up the emotional impact of her return to Cloud Ruler Temple more than any other.


nits:
"Quite the horse," he remarked. "We had also heard about him, so I've got a stall prepared for him."
I faltered at the thought of Red and Jasmine. "Will Red give us a hard time about Blanco?"
It looks like a hungry horse ate the space between your lines.

I looked ahead to the wide hearth. Past Martin's study table, the floor immediately in front of the fire had been cleared, and red marks had been painted on the stones. A shiver passed through me as I recognized some of the more familiar arcane symbols. A magic circle. Martin's making progress.
The wrapped gear from Sancre Tor lay on one end of the table nearest the hearth, with Martin, Jauffre and Steffan gathered near it. Baurus stood a few steps behind Martin. The captain poured klah into their cups. As I approached, he filled a fourth mug for me.
Between these paragraphs too.

I too liked the off hand riding bits woven into this. There hasn't been anything very 'horsey' for a while, but the equestrian theme continues in the things Julian does and in little details. It works well.

I also agree about this seeming like a homecoming. Cloud ruler is her home now, she might keep a shack on the waterfront but she visits it, it's not her home. The contrast between Cloud Ruler and Anvil Subrosa's already noted worked well. The section in Anvil was melancholy and looked back to a past which she'd lost, her return to Cloud Ruler was the opposite with the memories of things lost replaced with hopes for what was to come.

Though the magic circle is definatly not a good omen.

Love the screenshots!

A Legion forester watched us from his vantage point on a rock-strewn hillock, but did not approach us, though he waved briefly in greeting.

Nice to see a Forester who is not engaged in fratricide. Also a good indicator of the return to civilization. What a great image.

Blanco marched determinedly up the steep road. By now the sun was well past its zenith, and the blue sky shone brightly above. White diamonds sparkled everywhere I looked, and no breeze disturbed the snow on the pine boughs.

I thought this passage was pure magic! I love that part of Cyrodiil, and this is why. Never mind about the extra blankets. Even the weather welcomes Julian back to her CRT home.

"This is the symbol of the Reachmen," Martin murmured wonderingly. "Hmm, this raises many questions."

Indeed! Along with the bracelet and Julian’s family history, the WitchHorse of High Rock will have me impatient for LBMQ.

Red symbols on the floor, probably not a good time to schedule a vacation.

@Acadian: Thanks for picking up Julian's feelings about her adventure in Sancre Tor. It turned out to be more than a 'fetch' quest, didn't it? I think the emotional effects will continue rippling far into the future. Oh, and thanks for the nits. The paragraph spacing was driving me nuts! I C&P from Word on my W7 partition, and it kept messing up the formatting. It's set to single spacing with no automatic spaces between paragraphs, and the forum editor still kept putting extra lines in. And there is no rhyme or reason to all that as far as I can see. So I'm back to posting from the Mac partition.

@SubRosa: I'm not sure that Julian's future is at Cloud Ruler, given what happens after the end of the MQ. But it is a special place. It reminds her of her time as a tiro in the Legion, when home was wherever her comrades were bunked. Only CRT is far more comfortable and luxurious compared to any Legion castrum! Again, thanks for the nits - I missed the first one, and the second is actually a single paragraph. Looks like the hungry horse ate one and shat the other!

@Olen: Thanks for your ongoing endorsement of the equine bits. I really enjoy writing the animal parts, and am looking forward to doing more of them. I can't remember who said it about Paint, but the comment that he is a character in his own right has stuck with me, and I see no reason for other animals to do the same in this story. It's not the first time an animal has claimed a spot on the character list in my stories, and it will not be the last. I'm glad you enjoyed the homecoming, as well.

@Grits: Know what's funny? This is the first time I've gone through the Applewatch area in this particular game, and the two guys hadn't yet encountered each other. I read a very humorous thread on the Unnamed Forum a year or so ago about that. People were coming up with some wild ideas about why the two Foresters are always beating on each other. My favorite is that they were fighting over some hussy in Olaf's Tap and Tavern. And with two votes for WitchHorse of the Western Reach, it seems Blanco now has a unique identity beyond his personality. And no, it's not a good time to schedule a vacation!

The story so far: Julian has reported to Martin and Grandmaster Jauffre after her successful Grand Circuit and foray into the haunted Sancre Tor. She is looking forward to at least a couple of days of R&R among her comrades at Cloud Ruler Temple.

****************************
Chapter 27.2: A Dawn Conversation

They broke camp at first light, before the rising sun could be seen through the canopy of barren trees above them. They used the virgin snow to douse the embers of the fire that had warmed them through the night. Three of them huddled under heavy hooded cloaks and blankets, which did little to shield them from the worst of the cold. The fourth gave no indication of discomfort. He walked about shirtless, and set to the task of saddling his horse with a cheer that the others found disconcerting.

“Come friends,” he said, turning from his labor. He was as large a Nord as had ever ventured out of Skyrim. “Daylight is upon us. If my destiny be to die this day I would not have it take me unawares. If not then I would have the day’s work done so that we may sup in a tavern by the eighth bell.”

“We do not all share your constitution, Valdemar,” said an Imperial with icicles growing in the wispy stubble that lined his cheeks. He shivered under a thick blanket fashioned from the pelt of a grizzly. He blew a plume of cold vapor into morning sky. “This is not how I planned to spend Saturalia.”

A low chuckle emanated from the Redguard sitting next to him. “Whether here or at Cloud Ruler you still would have been cold, Rielus.” He rose and stretched limberness into his frozen limbs. The act lifted him from his blanket and revealed the blue enamel from the armor of Akaviri design that was visible under his cloak.

Rielus looked at the doused embers. “At Cloud Ruler I would be sitting in front of a roaring hearth with a belly full of mutton, Casnar.”

The Redguard laughed again. “Doubtless your feet would be numb and filled with blisters from walking patrol through the night. And your belly would probably be growling with emptiness.”

The Breton beside them stood up and shook free of his heavy blanket. “Need I remind you both of the seriousness of our charge? What needs to be done can not be accomplished with careless hearts.”

“Better careless than cowering, Alain,” said Valdemar. “This marks the third time I have entered those musty halls. I am all for duty, but tempting fate with such recklessness will be my undoing. I still have no idea why the Emperor entrusted this task to us.”

“Perhaps it is your experience with the place that swayed the Emperor’s decision,” said Casnar. “Outside of the departed battlemage there are none who know it better than you and Alain.”

"Would that Master Arctus were still around," said Valdemar, "he might have dissuaded the Emperor from this folly."

"You skirt the edge of treason with your words, Valdemar," said Casnar.

"Is it treason to speak the truth in Tiber Septim's Tamriel? Thanks to Alain whatever debts we owed to the place have long since been paid. Sending us back there only awakens ghosts that are best left slumbering.”

Rielus stood. “I realize that I do not speak with the voice of experience, but I am of the opinion that the dead do not suffer debts upon the living.”

“Perhaps not,” said Alain, “but as long as we draw breath we are compelled to pay respect to those who have passed on.” He lifted the saddle onto the back of his mount and began to secure it. Then he turned to Valdemar. “I share your misgivings, but we are Blades. The Emperor has entrusted us with a solemn duty. I mean to carry it out, or die in the attempt.”

Valdemar laughed and turned toward Rielus. “You see, lad? You would find more success trying to reason with one of the horses. Once Alain has it in his mind to do a thing then the best remedy is to have it done.” He lifted a battered Akaviri Cuirass from a place near the sodden embers and began to struggle into it.

“I must confess that curiosity outweighs fear at what the day has in store for us,” said Casnar. “After so many years of hearing the legends surrounding it I finally get to set eyes upon Sancre Tor. I only hope that the reality lives up to my expectation.”

“A fitting epitaph,” said Rielus. “Here lies Sir Casnar, the reality met his expectation.”

Alain mounted and turned toward the others. “If that is what destiny has in store for us then, as Valdemar said, I suggest we don’t keep her waiting.”

Valdemar took up his shield, thought better of it, and placed it back on the frozen ground.

“She can wait until I’ve broken my fast,” he said.

**************************************************
My breath drifted visibly in the predawn air as I drew the borrowed cloak closer around me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember what it was that had woken me so early with such a strong sense of foreboding. All I know is that the end draws near. But if the end means the crowning of Martin Septim as the Emperor, why do I feel such a sense of dread when I think of him seated on the Ruby Throne?

“Drake for your thoughts, Julian,” the captain’s voice sounded behind me in the predawn light. My shoulders hunched against the cold, I turned to see his silhouetted form join me in the western gate tower. He was bareheaded, his shoulders as broad as ever without the blue-enameled cuirass he always wore on duty.

“You’re up early, sir,” nervously I sent my gaze back to the sky. Overhead, the stars sparkled brightly, as they only do at this altitude.

“You should talk,” Steffan’s tone turned mildly humorous. “I noticed you didn’t sleep well.”

“I’m sorry if I bothered you and the others, sir,” I responded, slipping my hands beneath the fur-lined cloak. Too many things on my mind, now that - dream? vision? - that I can’t quite remember. It’s getting hard to focus on the most important thing - seeing Martin relight the Dragonfires. But what will happen then?

“You were gone a long time.” I sensed Steffan’s head turn to face in the same direction. “We knew you were making progress, for Jauffre spoke to the leaders of each of the reinforcements as they came in to Bruma.” Steffan rocked back on his heels slightly. “Countess Carvain is grateful for the support from her fellow Cyrodiil nobles.” He was silent a moment. “But the reinforcements are not what’s weighing your mind, or, if I may say so, your heart.”

I resisted the impulse to look at Steffan, aware of the warmth emanating off his thinly-clad body. “I learned a lot in the last two months, sir,” I spoke slowly, trying to gather my whirling thoughts into some semblance of order. Where to begin?

“Begin at the beginning,” Steffan suggested. “What did you learn first?”

“I learned how to summon Domina Incendia,” I began. “And how to be - diplomatically patient with young fools, sir.” His chuckle told me Steffan had heard of young Indarys. “If I ever hear Huzzah! again I’ll smack whoever said it.”

“Huz - hmm,” Steffan’s tone held amusement. I shot him a glare, but he kept his gaze on the horizon to the south. Though his mouth remained neutral, I thought I could detect a twinkle in the corner of his eye. I turned back to the view before he met my gaze. “Go on, Julian. I want to hear the rest.”

Do you, really? “I’m not certain what I learned about Count Indarys, sir,” I said after a moment. “He treated me with enough courtesy and respect, but I can’t shake the feeling that he always has an agenda of some kind.”

“House Hlaalu has a reputation for intrigue and devious machinations,” Steffan remarked. “I would be surprised if Indarys was any different.”

“Hmm,” I agreed. “And I learned that there really are all kinds in the Mages Guild, sir, including truly evil folks.” Steffan remained silent as I considered my travels, aware of his presence beside me. “Vampires are sly, cunning, and quite dangerous. If they want to kill you.” I thought of the contrast between Seridur and Count Hassildor. “And I learned how to recognize one. I learned to hate will o’wisps and what they do to horses and other animals.” I stopped, reliving again the horror I experienced trying to undo the damage that ethereal creature had done to my beloved friend.

“If young Indarys taught me how to be diplomatically patient,” I continued when I had control of my voice again. “Then Countess Leyawiin taught me how to be diplomatically angry, sir.”

“It worked,” Steffan said quietly. We stood in silence as the stars faded before the dawn. “And what else, Julian? So far we’ve covered Cheydinhal and Leyawiin.”

“I learned that animals have magicka too, and that was what was wrong with Paint.” I sighed. “Once I understood it, I learned how to restore it.”

“That’s not without significant cost to yourself, isn’t it?” Steffan asked. “You have to drain your own magicka to restore another’s, right?”

“Yes, sir, that was the spell Marz taught me,” I nodded. “I also learned that Count Terentius is up to no good, but there is no evidence to bring him up on charges before the Elder Council. Not yet, anyway.”

“That’s interesting. That brings you to what - Skingrad?” Steffan prompted me after a few moments.

“Yes, sir, and I learned there is a shortage of beds in the Skingrad Mages Guild chapter,” I said. Steffan laughed heartily at the tone in my voice. I tried to frown at him, but ended up chuckling myself. “It wasn’t funny at the time, sir,” I attempted to complain.

“No, I’m certain it wasn’t.” He shook his head, still chuckling.

Momentarily I thought of Hassildor’s vampiric nature, but decided to keep silent about it. “Count Skingrad was the first Count who didn’t hesitate to send help to Bruma. He only wanted to be certain Skingrad would be secure.”

“They’re good men, I hear,” Steffan nodded. “And did you learn anything - constructive at Skingrad?”

“I learned about the doomstones, sir,” I answered. “One of the mages there is very interested in them. I also learned a few more spells, a fireball spell and a shock on touch. I like that second one for the daedra. Seems they’re very sensitive to shock.”

“I take it you put Akatosh’s Fury to good use in the Deadlands?” Steffan’s head turned to me as I nodded. I sensed him turn his gaze back to the horizon. “Good. I’m glad Emperor Martin enchanted that bow with the shock stone.”

I glanced east. The sun had risen just past the tall peak called Gnoll Mountain. The thin mountain air was so cold that the warmth of the sun never touched my face. I shivered again within the cloak, thinking of Anvil. It’s much warmer there. They haven’t had frost yet. The rains won’t come for another month. They’ll still be picking tomatoes and eggplants.

“If you think this is cold, wait another month,” Steffan murmured, his breath now visible in the soft light of early morning. He scraped his fingernails against his five-bells shadow. It was even more pronounced than usual. Is he growing his beard out? He caught my glance and flashed a grin at me. “We’ll stop shaving for the winter - some of us, anyway.” I suppressed a snicker at the unexpected humor. “By the time of the longest night, we’ll be burning firestones in braziers through every bell out here so we can maintain our vigil without freezing. The sun will give off no warmth even at noon, and we’ll be wearing fur under our plate armor.”

“I’m already wearing fur beneath mine, sir!” I muttered, hunching my shoulders. “I don’t think I’ll be leaving the hearth in the Hall of Blades then!” Something stirred in my memory, then drifted away before I could grasp it.

Steffan chuckled, a stream of mist escaping his lips. “Then Anvil was next, right?”

I shivered again, looking down at the roofs of Bruma visible below. The old sadness moved through my core, escaped me in a long exhalation. At my side, Steffan stood silently, gaze on the horizon. After a few moments, his head turned toward me. Quickly I faced east to hide my tears.

“There’s a saying,” his soft voice reached me. “You can’t go home again. It’s true. Two years ago I took leave when my mother passed away. It was so strange walking in my old hometown again after thirty odd years.” Steffan paused. “I can see Anvil was difficult for you.”

“Not as difficult as I had feared, sir,” I found my voice again. “Old friends were still there, and I made new ones.” As I thought of Blanco, of Clesa and Ernest, I found myself smiling again. “I learned it’s possible to domesticate an imp.”

“An imp?” Steffan repeated disbelievingly. “Get out of here!”

“No, sir, seriously,” I shook my head. “One of the mages there found him when he was an injured baby. Thaurron felt sorry for him and healed him. By then the imp had adopted him, so Thaurron trained Sparky how to behave himself.”

“Sparky, huh?” Steffan turned his gaze back to the horizon. “Appropriate name, if you ask me.”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed. “In Kvatch I learned it’s possible to dream the impossible in the face of sheer devastation.”

“They did send a small contingent,” Steffan remarked. “Countess Narina tried to send them back, considering how decimated their guard is, but they refused. Ah, Vonius?”

“Ilend Vonius?” I glanced at Steffan, who nodded.

“Vonius said that no other town should suffer what Kvatch went through. If it’s possible to stop it here, they want to be part of it.” I could hear admiration and respect in Steffan’s tone.

“They’re determined to rebuild and thrive again,” I added. “I believe they will succeed.”

“And Chorrol?” Steffan asked after a few moments. “Did you learn anything there?”

“It’s a beautiful place, sir,” I answered. “And I did learn a few more spells there.”

“And now you have all the recommendations you need to enter the University?” Steffan asked me. I nodded. “Are you going to?”

“Once Martin is crowned Emperor and the Dragonfires are lit.” I studied the White Gold Tower, still shadowed by the eastern mountains. “If Grandmaster Jauffre will allow it, that is.”

“I think he will,” Steffan assured me. “I asked him what his plans for you as part of the Blades were. He said you would be most useful as an agent.”

Why would you ask the Grandmaster about me? Do you want me to stay on here at Cloud Ruler? My thoughts shied away from the implications of a garrison posting under the Captain’s command. “So the Mages Guild would be my cover, sir?” I wondered.

“More than that, Julian,” Steffan turned to face me, leaning against the corner post. Once again I found myself avoiding eye contact. “Each of us are required to have a second profession, one we can take up if necessary. Grandmaster Jauffre’s is as a lay brother of Talos. Roliand’s is as a tanner. Ferrum is a smith.”

I thought about it a moment. “Then Belisarius must be a bookseller.”

Steffan laughed. “Not quite. Historian.”

“And you, sir?”

“Haven’t you guessed by now?” His grin gleamed in the morning light. “Architect,” he finished when I shook my head.

“That’s why you admire Cloud Ruler Temple so much,” I laid my hands on the stone coping in front of me. “I remember what you said about no mortar.”

“Burd told me what you did for Soren at the top of that sigil keep,” Steffan said after a moment. “And you healed Paint yourself as best as you could. I think you should be a healer.”

“So I can either take lives or save them?” I asked. “I’m not certain of that, sir. It feels hypocritical.”

“I’m certain of it.” His tone was emphatic. “I get the sense you’d rather save lives than take them, but out of necessity, you won’t hesitate to take a life if that would mean saving an innocent.”

I stared at White Gold Tower, his words echoing in my mind. After a moment, Steffan stood off the post and clapped me on the shoulder. “Think about it, Julian. And don’t forget to come in and eat something hot!” He turned and walked back to the Hall of Blades.

Something made me turn and watch his departing figure. How did you know I needed someone to talk to? Even though I didn’t tell you everything, I wanted to. Briefly I wondered why I hadn’t. Felen Relas’s words came back to me. “The man you love has to be one you look up to. Not necessarily physically, but in terms of his principles, his ethics. You can’t love someone you don’t respect.”

I respect you, Captain Steffan. But I can’t let myself fall in love with you. Not while I’m your subordinate here at Cloud Ruler Temple. And not while I have this sense of doom hanging over my head.

Now there's a part. The dream is intriguing, I've no idea what it signifies. Possibly just closure on the four, both theirs and hers, but maybe more. They did still want to serve and this could be an interesting addition or diversion from the game plot.


As for the second part... well. I didn't see that coming, Steffan certainly played it close until then. Might this be a direction the sequel will take, and might Steffan be the one.


But once she's working for the guild as the champion... Interesting line though, it very neatly captures the confusion she has over what's important. She watches duty and protocol so closely she keeps forgetting herself. With her past I can see why, but I wonder if this is the next hurdle she will overcome.

Captain Steffan!! After all this time and all these guesses it turns out to be the man almost literally under our noses!! Bravo, hautee. I would not have guessed him in a million years, but it seems so right somehow. I am reminded of Julian’s foray into Bruma after leaving Cloud Ruler that first time. Didn’t she spend some time comparing Burd to Steffan? Now I know why.

I just loved the second part of this chapter! For mALX's sake here’s hoping that Steffan can use the same guile in de-briefing Julian as he did in, well, debriefing her.

Oh, the first part wasn’t bad either.

The flashback to the famous four was fabulous!

"You skirt the edge of treason with your words, Valdemar," said Casnar.'
I really liked the way you phrased this.

A fine review of Julian's world tour!

I think Captain Steffan is a good man and an excellent choice to be in charge of the garrison up at CRT. I see his finer qualities are not lost on Julian; nor hers on him.

I loved the dream. Seeing those four alive together brings Sancre Tor to a close with a warm feeling. Valdemar as the cheerful morning person shirtless in the snow was an unexpected joy. I sure hope he got at least a little breakfast.

Captain Steffan! And he’s an architect! That sounds auspicious. When he gave her that abrupt non-greeting as she returned, I had to think that perhaps he didn’t trust his professionalism at that moment. I noticed he seemed to read Julian’s mind at least four times. I guess he’s been paying attention.

I respect you, Captain Steffan. But I can’t let myself fall in love with you. Not while I’m your subordinate here at Cloud Ruler Temple.

Yeah, good luck with that.

And not while I have this sense of doom hanging over my head.

Oh. Well, when you put it that way… Now I am getting nervous about the Bruma battle.

“Here lies Sir Casnar, the reality met his expectation.”
Sadly, the reality was more than he bargained for. Still, it was a wonderful scene of the fab four preparing for their final mission in Sancre Tor. After seeing them dead for so long, it was nice to get a glimpse of them while blood still flowed in their veins.

The rest of the episode is a nice little recap of Julian's adventures so far. Quick and concise so as to not bore those who have read those chapters, yet at the same time informative for those who are just starting to read OHDH.

“We’ll stop shaving for the winter - some of us, anyway.”
Playoff Beards then? It figures that the Blades would be hockey players, given the location of Cloud Ruler.

You can’t go home again. It’s true.
Indeed. Because while home does not change, you do. You can never find that person you once were when you lived there. Just ghosts of memories.

“If Grandmaster Jauffre will allow it, that is.”
This was a nice touch of reality here. Once Julian joined the Blades, she gave up her right to choose her future. She might be sent to High Rock next week, or to Akavir, and never see Cyrodiil again.

“So I can either take lives or save them?”
There is an old saying: "A Witch who cannot hex is a Witch who cannot heal."

And finally we close with one more tantalizing tidbit of Julian's romantic life. Steffan it is then? Interesting. I was holding out for Countess Carvain, or Caroline. But I suppose I can save that for the slash version...

Finally I catch up only to find I am at the end, YEESH!!!

Haute, I thoroughly enjoyed my time with Julian!!!!!!! She is a wonderful character to get to know.

I have dedicated every spare moment to this story since I read the first words. Julian's story is a wonderful depiction of the growth of a character as the writer expanded her descriptive talent to exponential proportions. Heroes come in all shapes and sizes .....and ages it seems.

Thank you for sharing this wonderful story with me. I do so look forward to the next one, anxious to see what tales our lovely Julian has to share next.

I haved dived into the top of this thread- only to find myself in the midst of the snows and bones...

Will say more when I have read more, but it has been wonderful so far.

@all: Just so you know, that wonderful scene of the Fantastic Four at the beginning of the last post was actually written by none other than Destri Melarg. He sent it to me after the last post of Chapter 26. It fit in so well with what is happening to Julian that we decided to make it a vision that she had. Only thing is, she can't remember it so well, only the feeling of foreboding (since she knew what happened to them). I'm glad everyone enjoyed that glimpse of them alive and together under the banner of the Blades. I am eternally grateful to Destri for letting me borrow his memorable characters Alain and Valdemar, Casnar, and Rielus for this story.

@Olen: You continue to amaze me with your perception of what is really going on in Julian's heart. And Captain Steffan will continue playing it pretty close as best as he can, for he is so much like her regarding romance in the workplace (not a good idea, especially among fellow soldiers - their opinions, which I pretty much understand pretty well). Will things progress from there? That remains to be seen. Julian still has some work ahead of her before she will let herself stop to consider things between her and the good Captain.

@Destri: Hey! That first part was pretty darn good! I had been wondering if anyone would figure out Steffan way back when we were guessing who it was! As I have the de-briefing scene already written out, it's more like Julian takes the initiative and Steffan just goes along with it. Course, you'd have to wait until LBMQ to see it . . .

@Acadian: I'm glad you enjoyed seeing the fab four again. I certainly did. Wish I could take credit for writing that scene, but alas, no. It's all Destri. And let me tell you something - I had admired Savlian Matius and didn't think anyone else could hold a candle to him, but when Captain Steffan made that comment about no mortar between the stones, it made me think of the Incan complex at Sacsayhuaman. I fell in love with him just for that! He is one of the more underutilized NPC's in the game, IMHO.

@Grits: I knew you would love the way Destri portrayed Valdemar - classic Skyrim Nord all the way! As for Steffan's non-greeting, well you may be right about that. Remember the last time she came home, she practically passed out into his arms. Yikes! Thinking back, I think that's when he started losing his grip (yes, our vulpine friend, his GRIP!) where Julian is concerned. As for his psychic abilities, well, after years of leadership, you've gotta have some talent and skill in that area. Concerning the battle of Bruma, you have every right to be concerned.

@SubRosa: It's funny - I was thinking of the habit of my brother-in-law to grow a beard every winter, since he spends so much time outside (originally a pig farm, now in charge of maintenance for a school district), but your comment reminded me of my brother's propensity to grow a beard every time the Cubs have a playoff season (of course, they don't make it quite that far . . . ) It's ironic that Julian should make that comment about taking or saving lives, because that is exactly what we veterinarians do - take lives (mercifully, naturally) or saving them. Does that make us less of healers than MDs? I don't think so, especially since we demonstrate more concern for quality of life, rather than quantity of life. And I'm very sorry to disappoint you. Countess Carvain is a fascinating character, and I understand that you would love to see slash involving her.

@Athynae: So you have caught up? Good for you! By now that's a ton of words (over 300,000 of 'em!), so I applaud you for reading the whoooole thing! As the Main Quest isn't quite over, you still have some more Julian tales to look forward to!

@treydoggie: Ah, my little dachshund, may you enjoy Sancre Tor! It was a challenge to write, simply because I wanted to do justice to Destri's excellent writing. I can never go through that quest again without thinking of Interregnum. I hope you will have more good things to say when you catch up!

The story so far: Julian is back at Cloud Ruler, waiting for her next assignment. She has brought back not only the armor of Tiber Septim for Martin, but also reinforcements for Countess Narina Carvain, whom she has not yet met. Now she returns to training with her comrades.

**********************
Chapter 27.3: Reminiscences

“Stop, stop!” Ferrum put up his left hand in a plea for mercy. I lowered my katana and resisted the impulse to lean on it, gulping down deep drafts of the icy air. Perspiration turned icy on my neck and temples as Ferrum did lean on his weapon, his panting creating a fog between us. “You’ve improved since we last practiced. A lot.”

“Yes, and I didn’t have anything to do,” Fortis complained from the sidelines. “I almost started coaching Ferrum!”

“And I had to shut you up!” Pelagius elbowed him in mock outrage. He eyed me thoughtfully. “You’ve been working hard these past two months. How many Oblivion Gates did you close again?”

“I’m still not where I should be,” I managed to spit the words between gasps. My thoughts returned to the depths of Sancre Tor, and the formidable opponents I had faced within the ruins. “I’m not as strong or as fast as I used to be.”

“I don’t know about that,” Ferrum shook his head. He glanced around the plaza. “Does everyone agree that Julian is faster and tougher than me?” The murmured agreement surprised me, and I looked about us. Somehow during our sparring session, nearly the entire Temple garrison had gathered on all sides of us.

“Are you still doing the Way of the Crane every day?” Cyrus asked from beyond Pelagius.

I nodded. “Almost every morning, when I get up,” I answered. “Otherwise I’m a stiff old woman.”

“I hear you!” Jena exclaimed from Cyrus’s left side. “Especially with this cold!”

“But that’s not what you were doing just now,” Ferrum straightened up off his katana and sheathed it. He peeled his gauntlet off and rubbed at his face. “That’s something different, something I’ve never seen before.”

“The Sunbird Dance?” I asked with a glance at the tall Breton. “It’s similar to the Way of the Crane, but developed for swordfighting.”

“With one sword, without a shield?” Fortis asked me.

“Take this inside,” Steffan’s rough voice interrupted my answer. “Both of you shouldn’t be standing out here.” His blue gaze moved from me to Ferrum. “Baths and dinner first. Then you can explain this newfangled way of fighting to these young bucks, Julian.”

Young bucks? They’re not that much younger than us, Captain. With a sigh I put my own katana away. But you’re right. In spite of the quilted tunic beneath my mail, I was beginning to shiver. “Yes, sir.”

“Follow me, Julian,” Jena gestured toward the eastern wing. “We’ll lock Ferrum out of the armory. He can take his bath in the barracks.”

A few moments later, stripped of armor and sweaty clothes, I leaned back in a deep tub of steaming water set up beside the forge. Jena hung up the mailed cuirass on the stand next to my armory chest. “Think you’re strong enough for the Blades armor?” she mused thoughtfully, her fingers lingering on the blue and gold enamel of another cuirass that hung nearby, the Dragonscale armor that matched her own.

“It’s not as heavy as the Legion armor,” I responded slowly, pulling the steam deep into my chilled lungs with long inhalations. “But I’ve gotten used to the mail, and it’s better suited to the Sunbird Dance.”

Jena seated herself on the bench next to the forge, a whetstone in one hand and my katana in the other. “I heard your report to the Grandmaster,” she murmured, her face averted from me. “What was it like meeting those Blades beneath Sancre Tor?”

“Which ones?” I turned my head on the rolled towel beneath my neck to look at her. “The undead bones or the ghosts?”

Her head bent over my blade, she began running the whetstone along its edge. “Both.”

“The bones were fairly similar to each other,” I closed my eyes at the memory of the combat. “All of them were tough, fast for skeletons, and strong. They were more like living Blades than like your usual shambling bones.”

“As good as Ferrum, or Fortis and Pelagius?”

I opened my eyes and stared at the great beams overhead. “Better.” I sighed. “In all my years in the Legion, I’ve only met one Blademaster. That was Jelin. He was my pilus during my first posting in Valenwood. He’s the one that taught me the Way of the Crane and the Sunbird Dance. Until I came here, I hadn’t met anyone that came close to Jelin.”

The whispering of the whetstone ceased. “And how do we compare to Jelin?”

“The Blades way of fighting is different from the Legion,” I thought it over for a few moments. “More suited for close quarters combat between individuals than as part of a cohort. Yet it is more like the Legion style than the Sunbird Dance Jelin taught. So in your own way, all of you are as good as he was.”

“So the undead bones were better than Jelin, too?” Jena resumed her sharpening of my katana.

“Yes, and no,” I began lathering the soap into the sponge between my hands. “They fought better than I’ve ever seen Jelin fight, but then -“ I paused, lost in thought. Jena sat silently, her gaze on the blade resting across her thigh. I began sponging the itchy perspiration off my body. “I’ve never seen Jelin at his best. And what he taught me stood up well to those bones. Still, it took all I had to defeat each one of them.”

“Maybe it was just as well that you did the -“ Jena tipped her gaze upwards. “What did you call it? The Grand Tour of Cyrodiil first. Closing all those Gates must have made you stronger and tougher.”

I looked down at myself. She’s right. My muscles are more defined than they were two months ago. I’m not skinny anymore. Just lean and wiry and strong. No wonder Frederick commented on it when I last saw him. “It’s not a course of conditioning I would recommend to anyone, though,” I squeezed the lather out of the sponge and began rinsing myself off. Dunking my head beneath the surface, I ran my fingers through my long hair. Should I cut it? I used to keep it short under the helm, but I haven’t worn one since I left the Legion. When I surfaced for air, Jena handed me a small bottle.

“It’s a conditioner to detangle long hair,” she remarked. “I’ve had it since I left home.” She flipped her own jaw-length black hair back over one ear. “But I’ve not needed it.”

The small amount I poured out into my palm gleamed a pearlescent green in the firelight. The fragrance that met my nose made me think of bergamot, balsam, and lime. “This reminds me of Anvil,” I murmured.

“That’s why I thought you might like it,” Jena smiled at me. “My father was a merchant, he did a lot of trading along the Gold Coast into Hammerfell. As a matter of fact, I grew up in Rihad.”

“That’s funny,” I ran the balm through my long tresses. “I’m a Redguard, but I grew up in Anvil, an Imperial city. And you -“

Jena chuckled. “Yes, you’re right, it’s ironic. Would you say we grew up in the wrong cities?”

I shook my head. “Anvil’s pretty much my hometown,” I rinsed the conditioner from my scalp and hands. “I’m certain Rihad’s that for you.”

Jena held up a large bath towel for me as I rose from the tub. Using the edges of my palms to scrape the water from my skin, I accepted the absorbent cloth from her.

“And what were the ghosts like?” She turned away and shook out a warm felt skirt, dark green in color. “Were they heroic?”

“Heroic?” I repeated. “No more than I. They were Blades, sworn to the first Septim. They honored their oaths to the end.” My skin toweled dry, I accepted the skirt from her and stepped into it. “Just as Captain Renault and Glenroy have done.” Jena met my gaze as she shook out a dark brown woolen tunic. “Just as Baurus, Grandmaster Jauffre, Captain Steffan and every one of you here at Cloud Ruler Temple intend to do.”

The thick soft cloth shrouded my shoulders as I wrapped the shirt around my body. Its long folds fell to my hips, adding warmth to my skin. Jena nodded in approval as I tied the sash about my waist. “Yes, you’re right, Julian,” she picked up the conversation. “All of us intend to honor our oaths to the Dragonblood to the end.” Her dark eyes turned somber. “Whatever that end may be.”

“We will restore Martin Septim to the throne,” I put conviction I did not quite feel into my tone. “And he will relight the Dragonfires. No more Oblivion Gates will open, no more daedra will threaten our people, no more Kvatches will happen.”

“You’re right again, Julian,” Jena responded. She held out the leather cord I used to tie my hair back. I shook my head.

“My hair will dry faster if it’s unbound,” I took it anyway, wrapping it around my right wrist.

“That’s a lovely bracelet,” Jena gestured toward the silver circlet on my left. “I don’t remember seeing it before.”

“A friend of my mother’s gave it to me when I was in Anvil.” Felen Relas’s crimson eyes surfaced briefly in my memory. “It is all I have left of her.” This and memories. I closed my eyes and saw her once again in her garden, looking toward the harbor, the bracelet glinting off her right wrist. And whatever that was - a vision? Dream? Jena remained silent, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Aug 2 2011, 03:20 AM

You really capture the cold majesty and warm camaraderie of Cloud Ruler Temple here.

I loved the hair conditioner!

Nice that you tied how the fab four served their Emperor into the fact that the current Blades similarly serve their Emperor - and the determination with which they intend to see him take his place.

“A friend of my mother’s gave it to me when I was in Anvil.” Felen Relas’s crimson eyes surfaced briefly in my memory. “It is all I have left of her.” This and memories. I closed my eyes and saw her once again in her garden, looking toward the harbor, the bracelet glinting off her right wrist. And whatever that was - a vision? Dream? Jena remained silent, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
This passage made for a beautiful ending. I greatly admire your wording in the bolded sentence.

A wonderful beginning, showing us not only the camaraderie of the Blades, but also how Julian is a part of that camaraderie.

Then we move to some nice, quiet girl-talk with Jena. It is nice to see that Julian still is a girl under all that armor and soldierly exterior. Such an irony that the two women grew up in the opposite cities from what you would expect for their races.

The fragrance that met my nose made me think of bergamot, balsam, and lime.
But not quicklime I hope! Although Julian with "hard hair" would be a sight to see!.

Yet more evidence of the blademaster she has become, now she's giving lessons. I still suspect that she'll need every bit of that skill when the time(s) comes. It makes the crisis seem rather more critical and the hero more heroic if it takes a genuinely skilled person along with luck and circumstance to lead against it. Another edge of realism came in them being told not to stay outside in the cold after exercise (I hope they warmed down properly ).

The bath scene was well done, conditioner. Makes sense I suppose.

I like these interaction parts, I think they're my favourite bits from a very good selection here.

Nope, sorry . . . just can't let this one go. As far as I'm concerned they are your characters just as much as they are 'mine.'

To quote mALX:
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!!!!!!!!!!!

It seems like you covered everything in this chapter. There was sword-play for all of us stunted adolescents, and there was a hot bath and conditioner for the grown-ups! All that was missing was a hearty meal for Acadian, but I guess you can't have everything.

I don't think I have ever spoken to Jena in the game. Is she really from Rihad or was that something that you decided?

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Aug 3 2011, 05:11 AM

I love the way Julian explains the Blades at Sacre Tor and their abilities as well as their honor, but never takes anything away from the Blades she has come to know and love. They are different but the same, hehe. (I always kind of tilt my head with that comment but in this case it fits so very well) Thank you for yet another loverly wonderful scene.

And life has taught me that to a degree anyone can get back in shape and take on the world. Maybe that is one of the many reasons I really like Julian. That and I also like unconventional heroes, and kicking young peoples egoes-er I mean butts.

“Yes, and I didn’t have anything to do,” Fortis complained from the sidelines. “I almost started coaching Ferrum!”

This says it all!! Yay Julian. How wonderful to see the measurable changes in her.

“Follow me, Julian,” Jena gestured toward the eastern wing. “We’ll lock Ferrum out of the armory. He can take his bath in the barracks.”

Woo hoo, girl talk!! Well, mostly talk of armor, fighting, and physical conditioning, but after all these are Knight Sisters. At least Julian got her hair conditioned. Jena has a lovely touch here, easing Julian back into company without prying.

Now heading in to dinner in a skirt with her hair unbound. It will be nice while it lasts.

@Acadian: Back among the Blades, Julian wasn't about to let go of the four! It makes me happy that you caught the link between the Fab Four and the present-day Blades Julian is spending time with. Honestly, I was thinking of Buffy when I wrote the conditioner part. Thank you for your endorsement of the final paragraph. I had not been happy with the way it ended, and just as I posted, I changed the last sentence into something a little more bittersweet. It seems that my last-minute change made a world of difference.

@Sage Rose: I thought you would like the girl-time. It was nice for Julian too, to relax and let go of her pilus persona for a while. Of course, once she joins the University, moments like this will be more frequent as we get to see the academic side of her more often.

@Olen: It seems I enjoy writing these bits of interaction as much as you appear to enjoy reading them. I know from your own writing that we share the same view that writing dialogue and interaction is essential to character-driven fiction.

@Destri: Let's agree that the Fab Four are 'ours' and leave it at that. OMG, you just reminded me that I haven't fed Acadian in a looooong time! He must be starving by now! I'm surprised he's still with us on this journey. I'm going to have to feed him soon. Not this post, but the next. As for in-game Jena, she never says much - not a conversationalist at all. She certainly doesn't enlighten the player about herself. So the fact that she grew up the daughter of an Imperial merchant in Rihad is creative license on my part.

@Athynae: That makes two of us! Yup, kicking young people's egos can be quite fun, especially the arrogant ones who think the world revolves around them. Julian tried to hide how much the Fab Four affected her, but I think the others picked up on that, and respect her all the more for it. I know Captain Steffan certainly does!

@Grits: You and many others have picked up on how much Julian has regained her fighting trim during her long Grand Circuit. That was the purpose of the sparring match between her and Ferrum. Julian still insists that she needed the practice, but I don't think Ferrum agrees! And it's nice when Julian agrees to let her hair down.

After a day of training and relaxation, Julian finds out a little bit more of the past, and more of her future.

******************************
Chapter 27.4: Ancient History

“So this Sunbird Dance isn’t any particular style of combat?” Ferrum shook his head. “Then what’s there to study and master?”

The fire crackled as the other Blades turned their gazes to me. We sat gathered before the wide hearth, passing around the klah pot. Though I could not see them, I was aware of Grandmaster Jauffre and Captain Steffan’s presences in the shadows beyond the ring of off-duty soldiers. Cyrus and Belisarius sat side by side opposite me, with the big Redguard tending the fire to keep it hot. Beyond them, I could see Baurus’s eyes glimmering on the edge of the firelight from his place behind Martin’s shoulder.

The new Emperor sat quietly, his hands empty for a change. His gaze rested sightlessly on the fire. Again the gauntness in his face struck me. Is he still having nightmares of Kvatch? I recalled what Matius had said to me that evening at the base of the mesa. “I don’t think about it when I’m up there, but at night, when I’m trying to sleep -“ For a brief second my own nightmares fought their way to the surface of my consciousness, and I fought them back with a sip of the strong klah.

“The Sunbird Dance is more a state of being than a style of fighting,” I returned to the present. “It’s about the dance with your opponent, making your opponent into your partner.”

“Isn’t the sunbird a real bird?” Jena asked from her place a few seats away. “I recall hearing something about it when I was growing up.”

I nodded. “Jelin told me about it. It’s a small, reclusive bird that lives in the foothills between the deserts of Hammerfell and the Dragontail Mountains,” I paused to search my memory. “It’s sighted only during mating season, when the males fight for territory and females.”

“A martial art discipline named after an invisible bird?” Fortis repeated incredulously. “Why?”

“I recall reading something about that somewhere,” Belisarius leaned forward, cupping his mug in his dark fingers. “The females claim the territory, and the males have to not only fight each other for it, but also impress the female owner.” He met my gaze across the hearth. “But like Fortis, I don’t understand the application to a martial arts discipline.”

“Part of the reason they’re so hard to find the rest of the year,” I nodded at him, “is because they stay hidden. And they’re capable of mimicry. They can not only accurately sing the song of any other bird in their area, but also the sounds other animals make. If a predator gets too close to their nests, they can mimic the sound of a prey animal to lure the predator away. Or they will mimic the sound of a Mad Hoosa.”

“A mad what?” Pelagius repeated. Jena glanced at me.

“I thought those were just mythical?” she muttered, turning her gaze back to her mug.

“Apparently not,” I answered. “Jelin swears he saw one when he was a child in Sentinel. Barely escaped with his life.” I shrugged. “A Mad Hoosa is a creature of nightmares, it seems. I’m not sure what to make of the descriptions.”

“A body of a thick snake,” Jena murmured, her voice barely audible above the crackling of the flames. “Arms and breasts of a woman. Head of a reptile - not Argonian but rather an ancient desert reptile. Tentacles springing from the back of the head.” Her fair skin colored slightly as she kept her eyes downcast. “My Alik’r nanny used to threaten us with the Mad Hoosa if we didn’t go to bed and stay in bed at the proper time.”

“Plenty of strange creatures live in the provinces,” Belisarius mused thoughtfully. I nodded agreement. I had seen my share in Valenwood and Skyrim.

“So the birds are great mimics,” Fortis turned back to me. “But how does that translate to martial arts?”

“Sunbirds have a high degree of adaptability to any given situation,” I answered. “When the males compete for a mating territory, they typically use the fighting tactics of other birds. They can and will switch styles very quickly, and the opponents adapt to each other. The victor is the one who has the ability to adopt the most different ways of bird fighting. They can fight like eagles, like swallows, like gulls, and so on.”

“Ah, now I understand,” Fortis rocked back on the stool, his eyes lifting to the ancient blades hanging overhead. “Like the sunbirds, a master of the Sunbird Dance can adapt to his opponent.”

“Exactly,” I nodded. “Jelin was a Blademaster. He could fight with blunt weapons, with a sword and shield, with a sword only, or with a two-handed claymore. He trained me in all of these weapons. I’m not the master he was, but I have him to thank for my survival. Otherwise, it would be my bones lying at the bottom of Sancre Tor, instead of Rielus’s and the others.”

“You’re not a master?” Ferrum pointed at me, disbelief in his eyes. “Could’ve fooled me!” I felt the heat in my cheeks at the chorus of agreement that rippled around the hearth.

Once more I found myself telling them about the four Blades I had met beneath the crumbling ruins of Sancre Tor. I answered their questions as best as I could. For the most part they were interested in the different combat techniques each Blade had used, and how I had managed to counter them.

Finally I stopped speaking, my voice hoarse. The group fell silent, each lost in his and her own thoughts. After a few moments, the others began drifting away, most headed for bed, though a few headed out to suit up for night duty. A voice murmured into the crackling silence. I looked up at Belisarius, still seated beside the fire.

“Rielus was a spearman,” his tone remained soft. “He knew Legion tactics, especially those of the hastati. Yet when he joined the Blades, he learned the Akaviri sword fighting and quickly mastered it.” He met my gaze across the hearth. “He became the first Captain of the Imperial Guard.”

I stared at him. “You knew their history?”

“After you came back,” Belisarius shrugged, “Captain Steffan and I looked them up in the archives. Alain was from High Rock, and Valdemar was Skyrim-born. They were at the battle of Sancre Tor, and fought against Tiber Septim when he took the city. Yet a few years later, they swore allegiance to him after they found and killed the traitor that betrayed their comrades to Talos’s army.”

I recalled something Casnar’s spirit had said of them. “They always fought side by side, I heard,” I offered. Belisarius nodded.

“They were known to be inseparable in battle,” he added. “And Casnar was a Knight of the Moon in Stros M’Kai before Tiber Septim assimilated Hammerfell. He saved Cyrus from his fellow Knights after Cyrus killed his own brother-in-law.”

I inhaled sharply at the mention of my childhood hero. “Yes, I remember the stories, but I didn’t know it was Casnar who saved him -“ Now I begin to understand why Casnar seemed relieved of his guilt when I spoke of Cyrus and modern Hammerfell’s relationship with Cyrodiil.

Belisarius smiled, but I could see sadness in his dark eyes. “Now do you know the kind of men you freed from eternal slavery? There’s not a single one of us who doesn’t appreciate what you did for our long-lost brothers.”

“I haven’t been one of you for long,” I set my mug down on the table next to me. “And I’ve spent more time away than I have here since. But I couldn’t help but consider them my brothers too.”

Belisarius rose to his feet, stretching his spine. He gathered the few remaining mugs and the empty klah pot. “You have been our sister ever since you first arrived here with Emperor Martin in tow.” He nodded respectfully at me. “You’ve brought nothing but honor to us, especially after the death of the old Emperor.” He bowed to Martin before leaving the hearth.

As Belisarius disappeared into the kitchen with the mugs and pot, Martin stood up and turned back to his table. I caught his signal and followed him.

The Xarxes lay before him on the rough wooden surface, parchment sheets covered with cribbed notes covering its open pages. Relieved that I wouldn’t have to look at that ominous daedric script, I sat down across from him as he selected a sheet from the pile and scanned it.

Julian and Martin

“I’ve figured out the next item I need for the ritual,” his hazel eyes darkened in the soft light from the lamps surrounding the table. Something in his voice told me I had another difficult mission ahead. He laid the sheet before me. “A Great Welkynd Stone.”

I glanced up at him. “I’ve heard of Welkynd stones, but I don’t know what they are,” I murmured, turning back to the parchment. A sketch of some sort of compound covered its surface, with arrows and notes. Ra’sava Camp off to the south. Kvatch to the west. Skingrad to the southeast. Wait, is this -? I recalled what Tilmo had once told me of the sprawling Ayleid ruin that lay north of the Gold Road. “Adventurers have gone in there seeking treasure, but none have come out. Likely the old traps still work, and the guardians still walk the halls.” I managed to stifle the shudder as I looked back up at Martin.

“Yes, Welkynd stones are said to be fragments of meteoric glass, fragments of Aetherius.” He picked up a smaller tome and handed it to me. I glanced at the spine. Magic from the Sky. “Welkynd is Ayleid for ‘Sky Child.’ The stones are pieces of enchanted meteoric glass which store magical power. You can use them to recharge your Magicka if you are depleted.” He smiled at my wince. “Of course, if you use one, it is destroyed in giving up its magic.”

“And the Great Welkynd Stone?” I set the book down on the table. “What makes it special?”

“It is considered the pinnacle of Ayleid magic,” Martin leaned his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers in front of his face. “Once every Ayleid city had its own Great Stone. But they’ve all been plundered. All but one.” Now he gestured at the rough sketch in my fingers. “The Great Stone of Miscarcand is reputed to still shine in the deep darkness of its ruins. But no one has ever seen it and lived. It is said to be guarded by the spirit of the last king of Miscarcand.”

My heart sank. “Do you require me to go into that ruin and find it?”

A pained flicker moved through his steady gaze. “I could send one of the others,” Martin mused. “But none have the experience in dark places that you have.”

“Not Ayleid ruins,” I shook my head. “I’ve only been in one.” Telepe. And that was a tiny one.

Martin nodded. “I know I’ve asked a great deal of you, my friend,” he lowered his hands and spread them expressively over the books piled on the table. “You’ve done so much since you brought me here. Don’t think me unappreciative of what you’ve accomplished, Julian.”

“I made a promise to your father,” I swallowed against the grief that knotted my throat. “I will see you light the Dragonfires again.” I shook my head in emphasis. “I will not stop until that happens. If you say you need me to go to Miscarcand,” this time the walnut was from fear, but I choked it down anyway. “If you need me to go to Miscarcand, I will go there and find this Great Stone.”

“I know you’ve seen and braved many dangers since you left my father,” Martin reached across the table and laid his hand on my left forearm, his fingers covering the faded tattoo beneath my woolen sleeve. “And I know the Dragon has been with you the entire time, just as he was with you in the Legion.” He gave my arm a firm squeeze for emphasis. “But Miscarcand is not to be taken lightly. Be careful.”

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Aug 4 2011, 03:56 PM

Good part, the explaination of the Sunbird Dance worked well to show how she's become comletely accepted into the blades. Her rank seems rather uncertain, but she has respect and I think she'd agree that it's worth far more. The extra links to Destri's piece were a nice touch, doing it as a history was pefect.

And already Martin has the next mission. Makes me wonder what the rest are doing (and why captain Steffan hasn't seen this ideal opertunity to offer his assistance ). Still she certainly knows her stuff and if anyone can do it alone it will be her, though I get the feeling she isn't that keen on the idea.

Nit:
“They always fought side by side, I heard,” I offered. - The 'I heard, I offered' was a little jarring when I read it.