The Cover Up, A Sequel to my first fan-fic Options

[Lord Veneficus]

Yet another side project. Enjoy.

The Northern Champion

Cover Up Chapter One


It was a cover up, a scheme. The Elder Council wanted to make sure the Champion of Cyrodiil would have no enemies. They staged his death and had one of their men write a detailed book about what they wanted people to think happened. Only the Council knows that the Champion is in the newly rebuilt city of Kvatch, living in a beautiful manor hidden under Kvatch Castle.

The Elder Council has no idea what is about to come their way. Umaril the Unfeathered has returned and vowed his vengeance and Eric Snowmane will become a hero once more.

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Eric sat in his chair next to the fire place in his quarters, watching the flames lick the fine smelling cherry wood. The small end table next to his silken chair held a silver goblet engraved with the recently created Snowmane crest, a bottle of Tamika’s Wine, and a wooden mask padded with goose down and black velvet is sewn on the front and back; it covered his face fully and blocked view of his face from any angle. He disliked wearing the mask, but knew that if he did not wear it, the people of Kvatch would recognize him.

Only Savlian Matius, Kvatch Count, and the Elder Council knew where he actually was. Eric’s manor laid directly under the Count’s quarters, and was kept sealed by a magical lock that only the count and Eric knew how to open.

A sharp rap at his door shot through the soundless room, giving Eric’s muscles a quick tensing. He grabbed the mask and tied it onto his face, while the steady tattoo continued to move through the warm air. Eric stood, faced the door and stated loudly, “Please, enter.”

Savlian Matius strode into the room, a confident yet powerful aura emanated from his body. His white and black robes whipping around his ankles as he stopped abruptly in front of Eric. “Are you in the mood for a chat?” Savlian inquired. Savlian glanced around the room and saw a silver longsword propped against Eric’s chair, “I see you still have that blade I gave you. It’s nothing compared to that Akaviri katana, though.” Then, Savlian saw the katana hanging above the mantle.

Eric followed the ex-captain’s eyes, feeling a good bit of nostalgia as Savlian mentioned the silver longsword and his eyes held a long shine to them. “Yes, I remember that day. You were a bit of an boat, if I remember correctly. Haha!” Eric laughed, motioning for Savlian to have a seat. The ex-captain sat down, all the while chuckling.

“I was, but things change,” Savlian replied, his hand shot to the inside of his robes and a letter emerged from the within the folds. He wiped his eyes and gave Eric the letter, which was torn open; obviously to be read by the Count.

“What’s this?” Eric asked, suddenly becoming serious.

“Open it. It was sent to me, but I think you should read it, as well.”

Eric unfolded the sealed letter and began to read the smooth and curvy handwriting.

Savlian,

I think you should be aware of what’s happened here. One of my guards has found something disturbing in the chapel. He was on his night watch and entered the chapel to check on the priests and priestesses, but he found them all dead. One was lying inside the center altar. I am in tears now writing this letter.

A man who wishes to call himself The Prophet has been standing out in the garden, babbling on about the coming of some Umaril character. I’m advising you to keep your guards within the temple or the men and women of the Gods will face the same fate mine have.

I bid you farewell,

Millona Umbranox

[Lord Veneficus]

The Cover Up Chapter Two


Eric put the letter on his oaken end table and began to think of anything he’d read over the past two years. This Umaril character sounded vaguely familiar.

“Umaril? That’s Ayleidoon isn’t it?” Eric questioned Savlian, who appeared just as confused as Eric did.

The ex-captain nodded and said, “Yes, I believe so. The name actually reminds me of the story my father would tell me when I was a child.”

“Elaborate.”

“It was about the battle of Pelinal Whitestrake,” Savlian said, “and Umaril the Unfeathered. Pelinal was called the Divine Crusader during his time and was an amazing warrior. It’s been so long, though, since I’ve heard it, so you might have to find your information elsewhere. I apologize for not knowing anything more. But, Eric, it is time for me to go; I expect you won’t be here later on in the evening?”

“No, I need to get more information on this whole thing,” Eric replied, moving to his bedroom and opening the armoire. A full suit of Imperial Palace armor was hanging beautifully inside the oaken wardrobe. It was shipped to him shortly after the Oblivion Crisis had subsided; every time Eric would open the armoire, he would feel the happiness of the fight and the distressing feeling of leaving his people behind.

Eric stood from his bed, the Imperial Palace armor clinked. He let out a hearty laugh and put on his mask. Then he moved towards the silver longsword that was given to him two years ago and strapped it upon his back; Eric did the same for the Akaviri katana, though he tied it onto his belt.

He opened the large, heavy wooden door and gave one last look at his manor. Then he shut it and uttered the incantation which would seal the door until he returned.


His eyes were nearly blinded when he stepped out into the courtyard of Castle Kvatch; Eric closed his eyes as tightly as he could to prevent it from doing any damage. Other than his sight, all of his senses were hit immediately; from the smells coming from the bakery, tastes of the warm morning air slipping into his lungs, sound of children’s laughter, and the feeling of the sun on his face. It gave him all the more reason to stop this threat.

Eric made his way to the Kvatch City Gate watching the passers by staring at him with the strangest of glares. If Eric could read minds, he was sure most of them would be saying, “Look at that loony, walking around here with that damned mask on. Thinks he’s somethin’ don’t he?” It disgusted him when people judged one another. A beggar would be treated the same way a noble would be treated if it was up to Eric; though unfortunately, it isn’t up to Eric.

The children liked him though, which was a good thing. A small boy ran up to him and exclaimed, “That’s a nice mask, mister! Where’d ya get it?” Eric chuckled and patted the boy on the head.

“I got this mask from a good friend of mine. Would you like one?” Eric queried, kneeling down to get eye level with the young boy. The boy nodded shyly and Eric reached into his pack, pulling an old mask of his from its depths. It was red, with golden trim and it was kept in beautiful condition.

“Here you go!” Eric said, placing the mask in the boy’s opened palm. “Now you take good care of that, understood?” The boy’s eyes lit up as he nodded excitedly.

“You got it, mister!” He shouted, running off and trying to put the mask on. Eric stood and realized he was being watched by everyone in the area. He shook his head in disapproval and headed to the gate.

The city gates were wide open, letting merchants, farmers, hunters and others enter the city unburdened by the City Guard. There were twenty guards down by the gate, five on the wall carrying vicious looking crossbows, ten lined up against the gate’s inner walls, and another five used for extra manpower if anything happened.

Eric strode through the gate, glancing over to see Ilend Vonius, the cowardly guard he met in the Oblivion gate two years ago. The man obviously hadn’t grown out of his cowardliness, as he had a terrible job at the gate. “Ilend, what a displeasure to see you again,” Eric said, his face stern under the mask.

Ilend looked at him strangely and demanded, “Who’re you?”

“A friend,” was the reply. “Don’t let the Daedroths bite.” And with that, Eric walked away, exited the city and got atop his white stallion, Caballus. It had gotten stronger and faster since the Crisis, due to Eric’s training.

Eric tapped his heels gently into the horse’s side. It began to trot down the zigzag slope, taking Eric closer to the Imperial City…