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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I don’t mind admitting that last night’s dream affected me deeply: partially because I seemed unable to clear the imagery from my mind and partially because I had deep and dark suspicions about the sudden occurrence of such a bizarre dream. I well remembered my conversation with Tuls Valen concerning the often-prophetic dreams that seemed to be afflicting the populace and my notion that these dreams were being caused somehow. However, distressing as the dream had been, dwelling on it would accomplish nothing.

Frald the White welcomed me back with a smile and a laugh, his booming voice the perfect antidote to the cloud that had settled around me since last night. Before too long, I was at ease with the bluff Nord and, more importantly, at ease with myself again. We spoke of many things, the conversation finally turning to the problems that the Legion was having with both the Ordinators and the Buoyant Armigers.

“The Ordinators?” I said, puzzled. “I know the Armigers hold us in low regard, but I was unaware that the Legion had similar problems with the Brothers of Indoril.”

“Brothers of Indoril? That’s an odd thing to call them,” Frald said as I cursed silently to myself.

“It’s a local name,” I replied, extemporising as quickly as I could. “I thought it would be a good idea if I learned something of the customs of my adopted home.”

“Hmmm, not a bad idea lass,” Frald said. “Providing you remember where your true loyalties lie.”

“Oh don’t worry,” I assured him, “I never forget that.”

Frald then told me about the problems with the Ordinators ~ legionnaires being hassled if they had to go to Vivec City, that sort of thing. The biggest problem, according to him, was an Ordinator named Suryn Athones of the Office of Justice. He had been spreading slanderous lies about the Legion and, despite requests that he cease and desist; he’d continued to spread poison about. Frald and the High Command had finally had enough ~ Athones’ lies needed to be answered. I am to speak to the Ordinator and politely ask him to cease speaking falsehoods. If he will not… well, Frald’s expression was ‘stop his lying mouth with blood’.

As I made my way across the bridge into Vivec’s Foreign Quarter Canton, I realised that Malacath had spoken about ‘The Man God’s City’ when he was railing against Oreyn Bearclaw, from what I had picked up, the Lord Vehk certainly qualified as a ‘Man-God’. My supposition was a good one; the Oreyn name is well known in Vivec City. The gondolier regaled me with various tales of the Bearclaw-Clan as he ferried me across to the Temple Canton. In among the tales was the information I sought ~ Farvyn Bearclaw is the last surviving descendent of Oreyn. Farvyn is, by all accounts, a powerful Battlemage who rarely travels without his retinue of servants. Even more interesting was the news that Bearclaw was heading towards Gnaar Mok.

As I’ve yet to break my fast this day, I directed the gondolier to drop me off at the Telvanni Canton ~ at least I could be sure of a good reception there. The Lizard’s Head provided an excellent meal and I was enjoying it thoroughly when an ancient Nord approached me. “Spare an ex-mercenary the price of a jug of Matze Ser?” he asked.

I was about to send him on his way when I remembered the problems I’d had with Gaenor. Not wishing to risk a repeat of that particular… unpleasantness, I called over the patron and purchased a flask of the sweet-tasting liquor. “Thank you, thank you Ser,” the Nord said as I uncorked the flask and gave it to him. “I am Ennbjof,” he said, inclining his head politely. “And I would reward ye for your generosity.” With that, the Nord dropped a rusty iron key in front of me.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“That be the key tae the tomb of Olmgerd the Outlaw,” he said. “He was the son and heir of Harald Hand-Free, a king o’ the First Era. I dinnae ken where the tomb is,” he added, “but I do know it be somewhere betwixt the ruins o’ Zaintiraris an’ the tower o’ my former mistress Therana.” Ennbjof and I continued to talk, the Nord finally revealing that he was terminally ill, hence his current poor state. Wishing him well, and slipping him enough coin to keep him in Matze for a month or more, I took my leave and walked over to the Temple Canton.

Suryn Athones was easy enough to find, having his own office in Offices of Justice. He sneered when he saw me. “Athones,” I said, “why do you spread falsehoods about the Legion?”

“Because they are not falsehoods,” he snapped in reply. “The words I speak are true: the Legion is an abomination, servitors of a corrupt Emperor, and adherents to a false religion.”

“Those are dangerous words to speak, Brother of Indoril,” I responded. He looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Especially in this time of unrest. Man and Mer have been executed for such words. It would be a grievous loss to the Temple if such a devout Brother were to meet such an end.”

“I will… think on your words Sed,” he replied, the Septim having dropped.

“Under normal circumstances,” I said slowly, “such would be sufficient. However, I am under certain orders should you not recant your slanderous lies.”

Suryn Athones drew himself up to his full height, looking very imperious and proud, “I will not be threatened,” he said coldly, placing his hand on the handle of his mace.

“Be wary Athones,” I placated, raising a hand. “For I am not who you think I am.”

“All I see is a failed priest and a legionnaire,” the Mer responded crossly.

“Failed priest… maybe,” I replied, “and a legionnaire most certainly. However I wear the Brown and am leader of that House.”

My coded message got through to the Mer all right. He blanched, going quite pale and his hand dropped from the mace slung at his waist. “Forgive me Arch-Magister,” he said, sitting down on the edge of his desk. “I shall keep my opinions to myself in future.”

“That is all I ask,” I replied, heading towards the door. With my hand on the handle, I turned and said, “For what it’s worth Athones, I agree with your sentiments, but now is not the time to voice them.”