Interregnum, 854 of the Second Era Options

[Destri Melarg]

To the Reader

This story takes place over the course of one year, 854 of the Second Era. It details the end of interregnum and the founding of the Septim line of Emperors. Inspiration for this story is drawn from two sources. The first is a one line entry in the timeline for the Second Era:

2E 854 - The Emperor was assassinated by a High Rock nightblade who also burned the Imperial Palace to the ground and attempted to kill General Talos.

I have come to believe that history is merely the propaganda of the winning side. This entry tells you what happened, but it doesn’t tell you how or why it happened. I have attempted to address those questions in this story.

For the second source of inspiration I express no embarrassment in saying that the form is blatantly lifted from my favorite of the in-game books, Carlovac Townway’s remarkable 2920: The Last Year of the First Era

Some of the characters you will encounter in this story have been lifted from the in-game books. Others are the product of the author’s imagination. I do not claim to have mastered the lore so if I stray too far from it, please don’t hesitate to call me on it. That said, there are a few ‘liberties’ that I have taken in this story which I feel I must draw to your attention:

- Tamriel is a much larger place than the game world. A day’s journey in game takes a week (weather and terrain permitting) in the story.
- Cities are larger and far more populated than they are in the game.

My deepest gratitude goes out to RemkoNL, mALX, Acadian, hauteecole rider, Winter Wolf, SubRosa, and treydog for their steadfast support of this story. Without you I doubt that it would exist.

As always any comments, criticisms, or suggestions are most welcome.

* * *

Table of Contents

Book One: Morning Star
Book Two: Sun's Dawn
Book Three: First Seed

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Aug 14 2010, 12:15 AM

[Destri Melarg]

INTERREGNUM

854 of the Second Era

Book One: Morning Star


1ST Morning Star, 2E 854
Direnni Tower, Isle of Balfiera
Dusk


Lattia Direnni knelt before the four square table and continued to intone the rites from the Book of Law. Around her, the white stone that formed the walls and ceiling shimmered in the fumes of the ether and void salts that she had used to purify the chamber. Her golden knees rested on black tiled floors upon which four censers burned a combination of gorvix and harrada. The sigil stone resting in a silver dish on the table glowed with an ebon light as she spoke.

Aran watched from the doorway behind her and marveled, as he always did, at his sister’s focus. She has become a true Direnni Elf, he thought, she has already surpassed Emero and, in time, may come to rival Raven Direnni herself. He already felt that he was smarter than Ryaim and stronger than Aidan, and neither of them had a spy like Varla. Clan Direnni will be reborn, stronger than ever. His generation would make the Alessians pay.

Patience Aran, he told himself, nothing can happen without the help of the Daedra. The sun was setting far above them. Lattia’s invocation was nearly complete. If the Daedric Prince was out there, he would answer her. Aran waited for a sign from Oblivion, and was not disappointed.

The air around Lattia formed into a mist and began to swirl around her naked body. A dark . . . absence formed above the table, anchored to this world by the censers. All of the air in the room seemed to be sucked into it. Aran found it hard to breathe. Lattia never faltered, she remained a willing supplicant. Aran had never loved her more than at that moment.

The void imploded in a blinding flash of light. Flames filled the emptiness above the table and were swiftly carried throughout the room on the ether. A faint sound emanated from behind the flames. Aran could hear it getting louder, closer. An Oblivion Gate, he thought, she’s done it. Lattia stood amidst the flames and pulled on her robe to hide her nakedness. She held a silk purse to her breast, the gold heavy within. The flames around her dissipated and were drawn into the gate. She looked back once to Aran. Then, with a nervous intake of breath, she stepped into the flames. From behind the gate the sound grew loud enough for Aran to identify it as the anguished bark of a hound.

_____

???
Nameless Realm, Oblivion
???


Lattia emerged into a land of eternal summer. Lush green rolling hills spread out toward the horizon, blinding in the glare of the sparkling blue sky. Well-tended fields of Columbine, Belladonna, and Morning Glory caught the sunlight from overhead and shimmered like a mirage before her. Lattia’s eyes felt heavy, she wanted nothing more than to lie down in the grass and rest.

The incessant barking pulled her back into the moment. The weight of the purse in her arms reminded her of the mission she still had to complete. She closed her eyes to block out her tranquil surroundings. I am in Oblivion, she thought to herself, and I am not safe.

There were no signs or markers that she could use to find her destination. No castle or structure of any kind that she could move towards. Which way should I go? She thought.

The sound of the barking grew closer, its source appeared on a low slope near the horizon to Lattia’s left. A great black Hound galloped toward her, shrinking the distance between them with each bound.

Lattia stood her ground. She prepared a demoralize spell that she hoped would give her the time to escape should the great beast prove hungry. As it grew closer the size of it made Lattia doubtful that anything short of a dragon could demoralize it.

The great Hound stopped some ten paces from where Lattia stood. He was a male, easily measuring 18 hands from where his paws met the grass to the tips of his hunched shoulder blades. He was at least half that wide, with a sloped wedge of a head that housed two glowing red eyes that regarded Lattia with both curiosity and contempt.

“You have entered the realm of Lord Clavicus Vile,” said the Hound, “I am Barbas, the Hound of Clavicus Vile. What business have you here?”

“I am Lattia Direnni, I seek an audience with your master.”

Barbas came closer, Lattia remained perfectly still. He sniffed the air around her and then smelled her from head to toe.

“You smell of dead things,” said Barbas, eyeing her purse, “and the lightning clings to you. A mage is it? Your gold will secure an audience, but I warn you to return from whence you came.”

“I will not.”

“So be it,” Barbas sighed, “But don’t say you weren’t warned.” He lay down in the grass at her feet. “Come.”

She understood, but the thought didn’t thrill her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and swung onto that great back of his. He stood and with a great bound that nearly threw her back to the grass they were off.

It was nothing at all like riding her Chestnut, Mallari. Barbas was thick and rough with hard, coiled muscles where Mallari was smooth and supple. She could ride Mallari using just her legs, the two of them joined into one. For Barbas she needed both arms and both legs just to hold on.

The fields formed a green blur that rushed past her and brought tears to her eyes. Each step that Barbas made over the uneven terrain caused another part of her body to ache. She buried her face into his neck to avoid the snapping of her jaw that attended every leap over a rock or felled tree. The world lost focus, the only thought that she could identify was don’t let go.

It took her a moment to realize that Barbas had stopped. It took a moment more for her eyes to regain focus. They were in a clearing, surrounded by trees thick with red and yellow Cinnabar growing on the trunks. She could hear the sound of rushing water nearby.

“What have you brought me, Barbas?” A sharp voice asked.

Lattia lifted her head painfully from the groove her chin had formed in Barbas’ neck. Barbas lay down to make her dismount easier, if not more graceful. She landed on her backside in the tall, cool grass. Both of her legs were numb and useless. I must look ridiculous, she thought.

Clavicus Vile loomed over her. He was seated on a white marble throne in the center of the clearing. Barbas had taken his place at his master’s feet. Lattia managed to rise to her knees, but no further.

“Well, does it speak?” Clavicus Vile asked.

He was so . . . short, Lattia thought. His dirty bare feet dangled from the edge of his throne. A pair of curved horns protruded from the temples of a misshapen head too large for the rest of his body. His small pink hands were steeped under a bulbous nose in front of a large mouth well appointed with sharp teeth. He wore a dirty brown vest and soiled green trousers.

“Greetings, Lord Clavicus,” said Lattia collecting herself and ignoring a wave of revulsion, “I am . . .”

“Ah, it does speak. Pity that. I know who you are Lattia Direnni of Clan Direnni. I also know why you think you came here. Do you imagine you’re the only mortal with a spell book and a spare purse of gold who has sought my favor?”

“I . . .”

“Save your words, Lattia Direnni. I allowed you through the veil because you present something of a conundrum to me. Mortals usually summon me to your realm to gain wealth or power for their own use. You enter my realm seeking power for another. It makes me wonder what one such as you would offer were I to grant such a boon?”

Lattia pushed the purse forward.

“The gold got you this audience,” said Clavicus Vile, “it will not get you what you seek.”

Lattia painfully regained her feet. “Then what do you suggest?”

The Daedric Prince smiled, it was not a pretty sight.

“Souls are my usual currency,” he said, “and while your soul holds great value, I fear that it would be given too freely. No, for one such as you I must exact a special price.”

Lattia waited, the Daedric Prince smiled. I am in Oblivion, she thought, and I am not safe.

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Mar 23 2010, 07:54 AM