The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Every Day a Walk In The Park... Options

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The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Part Seven

Darius, according to Master Demnevanni, ran his office out of the Madach Tradehouse in Gnisis. So, after translocating there after breaking my fast, I made my way into the lower half of the “shell” that comprised the Tradehouse. Darius was short, stocky, and clad in gorgeous armour – all gilded metal with a flowing red cape. He looked up at me and said, “So, you want to join the Legion do you Citizen Vahl? Well, it’s true that we have a shortage of Manpower ~ and Merpower for that matter. You look capable enough. Tell me, are you capable of following orders?”

“Excellent,” he said when I assured him I was. “It’s a Mer’s life in the Legion. Every day a walk in the park, every meal is a banquet, every pay check a fortune. It’ll make a Ma... Mer of you. Right, Recruit Vahl, here is your regulation-issue chain cuirass. You will wear it when you address a superior officer, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes… sir,” I replied.

Darius shook his head. “The first and last word I want to hear out of your mouth when you address me is ‘Sir’. Now sound out like you got a pair. Do you understand me?”

“Sir, yes Sir,” I said in a clear voice, desperately trying to ignore the sniggering Orc in the corner of the room.

“Outstanding,” he said. “Now get that cuirass on and I’ll give you your orders.

“You might be wondering,” he said once I’d got the chain cuirass in place, “why I am billeted in the Tradehouse? Well, it’s because we have no room to expand. The widow Vabdas has a parcel of land the Legion needs to expand. I want you to come back to me with the deeds as quickly as possible. Is that understood?”

“Sir, yes Sir,” I replied, turning to march out of the room. As I went up the stairs, I heard General Darius addressing the Orcish Trooper, “gro-Khazor, what is your major malfunction?”

Vabdas had a house just west of town, out past Arvs-Drelen, so it wasn’t difficult to get to. Her reaction, when I spoke to her about the land-deed was to slap me across the face ~ hard. I suppressed the spells that roared into my mind and, speaking carefully, said, “you would be wise not to do that again.”

“Why?” she snapped, and now I could see the tears in her eyes. “Because you’ll kill me like you did Mansilamat?”

“I assure you ma’am,” I told her, “I had no part in the death of Mansilamat. Tell me what happened…” Bit by patient bit, I dragged the story from her. It seems that her husband, the aforementioned Mansilamat, had gone to the Egg-Mine at Gnisis to get some eggs. There, according to the widow, the Legion had killed her husband.

As I walked back towards Gnisis, I reflected that whatever power controls my life has an infinite capacity for capriciousness. What should have been the simple acquisition of a deed to some land had now become a murder investigation. Of course, that was how General Darius saw it and he told me to obtain proof that the Legion had been involved. Fortunately, the guard at the door of the Egg-Mine proved amenable to my charming behaviour and, after checking that there was nobody watching, he gave me the key to the door.

There was a familiar stink about the mine, one that I remembered from the Mudan-Mul Mine. Drawing my sword, I advanced with some care. Fortunately, whatever was blighting the mine was confined to the lower quarters and the Scribs in the upper chambers were not aggressive. I wish the same could be said of Trooper gro-Ogdum. The Orc gave me a three count to get the Oblivion out of the area he was guarding. As quickly as I could, I chose one of the passages and headed off down it. From up ahead I could hear the drip-drip of water and a strange noise ~ like wind. As I rounded the corner, I came upon the source of the sound. There, in the middle of the passage, was an Ancestral Spirit.

“Hear me Mortal,” it moaned, as I made ready to swing my sword, “Stay your hand ~ I am Mansilamat Vabdas, I was murdered, most foully, by the Orc Lugrub gro-Ogdum. I beg you, avenge me…” The last syllable was drawn out as the spectre faded from view. I knew that the word of an apparition would carry no weight with General Darius: I needed more proof. I found it in the depth of the pool nearby ~ the corpse of Mansilamat and a notched Imperial axe.

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When I returned to Fort Buckmoth with the news of Varona Nelas’ death, Imsin wasn’t pleased. “That is nae what I sent you tae do,” she complained unhappily. “Ye were simply supposed tae get the glove and return it.”

“My apologies,” I replied, “but Nelas gave me little choice in the matter. Besides, there is no chance of any scandal now… is there?”

“Aye,” she conceded, “but it’s nae the best solution. Still, I thank ye for your devotion to duty Knight. I have two bits of new for you. Firstly, you are tae report with all speed tae Fort Hawkmoth in Ebonheart: Frald the White will be your new commanding officer.

“As tae the second bit o’ news, well: Hawkmoth is a prestigious appointment. Accordingly, Frald has instructed that ye be promoted tae the rank of Knight Batchelor. Take this chitty wi’ you when you go and present it tae the quartermaster.”

As I handed in my steel gauntlets and ‘pot’, I reflected on life’s little ironies. I had joined the Legion for two reasons ~ firstly to improve my fighting abilities and secondly to get an idea of how the Legion operated so that Great House Telvanni would be prepared for any eventuality. Now, here I was wearing the gilded armour of an Imperial Legion Knight ~ complete with the new helm and bracers that the quartermaster had just handed me. I had seen many Dunmer in the Legion: Spearmen, Troopers, even an Agent or two ~ but no Dunmer above those ranks.

Having translocated myself to Vivec City, I had some time to reflect on this as I walked down the coastal road towards the stronghold of Ebonheart. From conversations I’d had with fellow soldiers, I knew that the Legion recruited about twenty-five to thirty percent of its troops locally. However these recruits were usually short-term recruits who gained very little in the way of promotion. The indigenous troopers who signed up for long-term service usually didn’t get promoted much beyond the rank of Spearman. This made my own rapid ascent through the ranks quite the puzzle. The only reason I could think of was that, while I was Dunmeri, I was also ‘Imperial born and bred’ as they say. Somehow, I knew that my promotion was going to get me into trouble.

Frald, a broad-faced and broader-shouldered Nord with only the faintest hint of accent, greeted me warmly as I stepped into the main barracks at Fort Hawkmoth. “Knight Vahl,” he said, extending his hand, “I’ve heard very good things about you.”

“Thank you,” I said, grasping his hand and shaking it in the western fashion. He grinned hugely, taking off his helm and exposing the mass of braided, snow-white hair that had been concealed underneath.

“Now, I’m sorry to throw you in at the deep end, first day here an’ all that. We have a little problem with a Buoyant Armiger by the name o’ Salyn Sarethi up at the Ghostgate. He says the Legion is full of witless bores. He’s… well, he’s sort of challenged us tae a contest of wit and poetry. I’m sort of hoping that you’re going to uphold the Legion’s honour.”

Oh great, I thought to myself as I smilingly accepted the challenge, the honour of the Legion is resting on the shoulders of yours truly. Not, I realised after a moment’s reflection, that I actually gave a damn’. I mentally slapped myself, I’d got myself caught up in the momentum of my promotions and had started thinking like an Imperial officer instead of the head of Great House Telvanni. That was a tendency I’d have to keep a close eye on.

Tendrils of raw magicka discharged into the ground as I dismissed the portal that had carried me from Ebonheart to the Ghostgate. Salyn Sarethi was, according to Frald, in the Tower of Dusk and was expecting me. Making sure I avoided the Temple ~ where, presumably, Uvoo Llaren was still waiting for me to return with her blessed cleaver ~ I entered the Tower of Dusk and made my way down to the offices of the Buoyant Armigers.

“So,” the Dunmer sneered, ”you’re the barbarian they’ve sent in response to our challenge. The rules are simple ~ we kept them that way so that you’d have no problems understanding them ~ we take turns to pose a riddle or conundrum that the other answers. A correct or witty answer wins the point.

There followed quite the battle of wits, Sarethi scoring some early favour with the crowd by using some fairly complex riddles and word-play. But, as I grew more confident, I got more of the assembled crowd on my side of the table as I dredged up fairly complex riddles of my own, adding in some word-play by the renown Cyrodiilic author Octavius Torva. Before too long, the only people on Salyn Sarethi’s side of the table were a couple of grim-faced Armigers, the rest of the crowd was standing behind me. At the end of the allotted time, there was no doubt who was the winner.

Grinning sarcastically at the bewildered Armiger, I bowed to the clapping crowd. “Perhaps, next time you open your mouth,” I told Sarethi, “You’ll consider what comes out beforehand.”

“Lassie,” Frald boomed, “I’d have given a year’s pay to have seen that. Here, I have a little present for you.” Frald presented me with a copy of ‘2920, Second Seed’. I thanked him and, at his invitation, accompanied him to the officers’ mess for a midday meal. While we were eating, Frald broached the subject of Honthjolf.

“He’s a traitor to the Legion, that’s for sure,” Frald said around a mouthful of boiled Scrib-cabbage. “Took himself off and got himself a job with a bunch of cultists. We weren’t happy about his defection, even less so about his choice of people to hang around with. But now, it seems that he’s branched out into petty banditry and extortion. A survivor of one of the raids overheard Honthjolf speaking about a place called Aharnabi.

“We’ve had to be careful in obtaining information,” he continued, leaning forward to whisper confidentially, “That’s Telvanni country out there. Mage-Lords they call themselves and they are as mad as Sheogorath’s tailor they tell me. Still, when you’re dealing wi’ a bunch of people who really don’t like you and can turn you into something small and unnatural… well, it pays to be cautious. I digress; Aharnabi is a cave-system south of an ancient shrine dedicated to Azura. Someone really should take care of the situation before it gets any worse.”

“Really?” I said through gritted teeth. “Perhaps I should go and see if I can resolve the situation?”

“That would be great,” he said, cheering up.

“In fact, I think I’ll depart right now,” I said, standing up, “I seem to have lost my appetite. Oh, by the way, if I need more information ~ who’s our contact out there?”

“A Dunmer by the name of Rolis Garvon, native of Sadrith Mora,” Frald responded without a moment’s hesitation. After all, why should he hesitate? Wasn’t I a fellow officer, trustworthy and dedicated to the Empire’s cause? The fact that I intended to have the traitor’s head on a pike before sundown had probably never occurred to Frald the White ~ it had occurred to me though…

“Rolis Garvon,” I snapped at Kallin Basalius, having used the stronghold ring to get to Tel Vahl, “has been feeding information to the Legion. I want the whole of Sadrith Mora turned upside down until you find him. Close the bridge to Wolverine Hall so he can’t run to his Imperial masters ~ nobody goes in or out of that pile of bricks until Rolis Garvon is caught. If you can’t find him in the next six hours, I want the head of the Sadrith Mora Morag Tong here in seven hours.”

“Yes ma’am,” Kallin replied, casting me a worried look before rushing out of the chamber. I sighed, I realised that I was jeopardising my position in the Legion by acting on the information Frald the White had given me: after all, he didn’t need an Imperial degree in advanced mathematics to add two and two and get ‘Vahl’ as the result. But I couldn’t risk leaving Rolis Garvon alive ~ to date he hadn’t given the Legion my name or position but it was a risk I couldn’t take. Leaving my able staff to take care of the matter, I struck out in a vaguely easterly direction from the stronghold.

Turning southwards after reaching the coast, I made my way through increasingly rougher terrain towards Aharnabi. I was beginning to regret my response to the information that Frald had given me; my actions were hasty and ill advised; placing my position within the Legion at risk. I was tempted to return to Tel Vahl and rescind my orders but…

“Dinsalipal Dun-Ahhe is waiting for you in the main hall,” Raissu Asserbas said with a hint of smugness. “Kallin Basalius and I suspected that you’d change your mind when you’d had a little time to consider things so we called him straight away.”