A Champion's Journey, The Imperial Simulacrum Options

[Verlox]

Prolouge

Ernand Leoriane was greeted to his first sight of the Imperial City as he, along with his escort, crested over Brena's Hill, giving them an unparalleled view of the expansive rain-forest of the Nibenay Valley. The colossal Whitegold Tower, its silvered spire shimmering in the sun, gave promise to splendor. As a Junior Councilman of the Elder Council, Ernand would soon be enjoying that most marvelous of settlements. But the Imperial City wasn't the only site to behold in the great valley of Nibenay. From his perch atop Brena's Hill, the young Councilman could make out splendid villas of alabaster and limestone that belonged to wealthy nobles and Senior Councilors. The great Lake Rumare and its artery, the River Niben, could also be gazed at.

Sir Renard Liseux, the captain of Ernand's guards, moved his horse alongside his master's. "Your Grace, Chorrol is only another hour's ride from here. Would it please you if we bedded down there for the night?" Looking up, Ernand could clearly discern Masser and Secunda, and a few of the brighter stars. The Sun was only visible as a sliver of light on the western horizon. Although he would have preferred if they continued on their journey, traveling by torch-light if need be, Ernand knew that while his men would follow him, they wouldn't like him very much afterwards.

"Chorrol should be fine, Renard." Ernand could tell Renard was pleased by the grin that spread across his face. Signaling to the men, Renard spurred his horse back into formation around Ernand, and they proceeded to Chorrol. A Colovian town, Chorrol was situated in the Highlands on the border with Hammerfell. Founded in the 2703 year of the First Era by Kantus Jerril, the town's first Count. The city itself was rustic, to Ernand resembling the town in High Rock he was born in. Its timber structures were simple, square buildings with one or two floors. Silver Mining was Chorrol's primary trade, but the sheep and goat trade was always booming.

Twilight came and went by the time Ernand and his guards passed through the gates of Chorrol. A sleepy guard pointed them in the direction of the town's inn. It was fortunate that Chorrol was a very simple town, and that the inn received such a prominent position; right off the square. Passing up through the lane, Ernand couldn't help but admire the massive oak-tree that overshadowed the largest of Chorrol's buildings. Dismounting and hitching his horse, Ernand watched his guards tramp into the taproom. He followed more slowly, taking a seat in a corner. After the bar-wench had brought him his beverage, he was joined by Renard. "This isn't exactly the finest of places, eh, Renard?"

"No, sir, it is not," Renard indulged his master, feeling that a Councilman would think any place is trash, "Reminds me of home though, does it not?"

"Aye, that's true. Kambria bears a strong resemblance to this place. Chorrol is certainly warmer, though!" Both men laughed. "Do you think it will rain tonight," Ernand asked as he took a sip of his craythur, "Those clouds looked rather mean."

Renard tapped his chin with his forefinger in thought. "It could. We did have a light sprinkle last night, so it wouldn't be strange if we got some of the water up here in the Highlands."

"Should I expect a delay in travel?"

Renard grimaced. He knew Ernand wanted to get to the Imperial City so he could begin his career, and live the life of Nibenean luxury. Damn...I would be impatient, too, Renard thought to himself. As an older man, however, Renard could look on luxury as a reward, where as he saw Ernand as wanting the luxury as an entitlement, he was a member of the Elder Council after all. "Ernand," Renard rarely used his master's Imperialized name, preferring the formal 'sir' or, in private, his given name of Lochlainn, "How old are you?"

Ernand raised an eyebrow, but answered. "Seven-and-Twenty. Why?"

"You got your whole life ahead of you. Don't let a little luxury spoil you to the rest of the world."

"What makes you think it will?" Indignant, a hard edge crept into Ernand's voice, "I can assure you, Renard, that a Nibenean lifestyle will not 'spoil' me, as you put it." He stood from his seat abruptly, "I must bid you goodnight, Renard. I expect to leave early tomorrow, so be ready to leave by sunrise." With that, Ernand turned on his toe and left the taproom, leaving Renard sitting alone.

"Of course, Councilor. Your will is my command."

*

His entrance into the Imperial City was even greater that he imagined it would be. At the bridge, Ernand and his escort were met by the other two members of High Rock's councilors. They greeted their new compatriot with much warmth, proclaiming that High Rock was well served by having the scion of the Leoriane as a member of the Elder Council. Ernand in turn acknowledged their greetings with a smile, but had to ask where his benefactor, Ria Silmane, was.

"She had business to do for the Emperor, Ernand. As you know, that traitor, Tharn, was executed some months ago. For a time, the position of Imperial Battle Mage was empty, left vacant by Tharn's death. Emperor Uriel, in his wisdom, had Madame Silmane appointed in his place. We hardly see her anymore; always off doing one thing or another for His Majesty." Ernand nodded that he understood, but inwardly he wished that Ria had been their to see his entrance into the Imperial City.

The councilors escorted Ernand and his guard through the streets, giving them a condensed tour of the Imperial City. With the air crisp and cold, the councilors cut the tour short when they arrived in the Elven Gardens District. They pointed out to him the location of the High Rock Councilor's Manor, and then left the younger man for their own villas in the country-side.

"Unpack our belongings," Ernand told his guards, "I'm going to have a rest." The manor was a small, but comfortable, building of three stories. The lowest floor was a large hall made from receiving guests and dining. The second floor was dedicated to housing the occupant’s personal guard. And the third floor was the Councilor's Chamber. It was here that Ernand found himself after he mounted the stairs.

The chamber was very spacious. A large, four-poster bed was against the wall for sleeping. There were numerous coffers and chests, and their was even a writing desk. It was a object on the desk that first drew Ernand's attention, and he moved to investigate. The object was a small letter written on tan paper. Picking it up, Ernand read--

To his most Esteemed Lordship, Councilor Ernand Leoriane
Greetings,

I apologize in advance for not being able to greet you on your entrance into the city. The Emperor had a very important matter for me to look into, and I was unable to get out of it. I promise that we will soon see each other. If not in private than in the Palace.

Your Friend,
Ria Silmane, Imperial Battle Mage

Dated Seventh of Sun's Dawn, 3E 395

Ernand smiled at Ria's letter and put it back onto the desk. Moving over to a nearby shutter, he flung it open to gaze out over the Imperial City. Things were good.

**

This post has been edited by Verlox: Mar 19 2010, 02:40 AM

[Verlox]

Chapter Twelve: Going to Port

Ernand had fallen back into slumber not long after Ria had visited him. This time he dreamed of nothing important, and whatever happened was soon forgotten in the morning. But Ria’s words still remained. To Fang Lair he must go.

But how do I even get there, Ernand thought as he pulled his tunic over his head, Hammerfell is hundreds of miles away. I suppose that a Mages Guild Guide could get me some of the distance, he struggled to pull on his pants, and when he did, fumbled with the straps to tighten them. Maybe Ethredor can help. He’ll probably know something. Having finished getting dressed, Ernand moved over to the armor rack that had been put out for him. He had asked a servant the night before for it to be cleaned, and he was not disappointed. The mithril shined even in the chamber’s dim light, and it bore no scars from the brawl the day before. Lifting the vest from the rack, he slipped it over his head, still marveling that it was that easy to don, and he had little trouble snapping the vambraces over his forearms.

All that was left was to buckle his sword to his waist. Here, Ernand hit a problem; he could not find the elven blade. Bemused, the Breton scoured the room, looking into every nook and cranny he could find. First he looked behind the armor stand and saw nothing. Second, he looked around the bed and under it; once again he found nothing. Muttering to himself angrily, he stalked out of the chamber, slamming the door behind him. Stomping down to the ground level of the manor, Ernand could heard the loud noise of Ethredor consuming his morning meal. Maybe he knows where it is, Ernand thought as he entered the dining room to the sight of the merchant draining a bowl of porridge. When the elf noticed his guess standing there, he sat the bowl down and gave Ernand a grin.

“Well, good morning, Ernand. Did you sleep well?”

“Indeed, I did,” Ernand answered coolly, “Have you seen my sword? I can’t find it in my chamber.” Ethredor put his hand to his chin and stroked it a bit before snapping his fingers.

“That’s right! I sent it to the smith. The blade looked a little dinged, and I thought you’d do it anyway. Save you the trouble.”

“Oh! Well, thank you, Ethredor.” Relieved that his weapon was in good hands, Ernand took the elf’s invitation to breakfast. When the Breton commented that breakfast seemed over, pointed at the three bowels piled up next to Ethredor’s arm, the elf only grinned, saying that was only an appetizer.

When the real meal was brought in, Ethredor jumped right into it, devouring the glazed ham set before him. Ernand was more paced, though, and started on a bit of bread smeared with cheese. “So what did you do to those Nords of yours?” he asked after he swallowed the bread, “Did you send them packing?”

“You could say that. I sent them to my manor in Dragonstar. I’m going to be heading up that way soon to deal with Skyrim. That war of theirs is becoming quite….profitable.”

“Profitable it may be for you,” Ernand drawled, “But it’s draining the Imperial Treasury dry trying to contain it. If the war of Bend’r-Mahk goes on much longer, it will bankrupt the Empire!”

Ethredor perked an eyebrow up, “You think so? I’m not sure I agree with you. Emperor Uriel,” a light grin crossed Ethredor’s face and then was gone, “He seems smart enough to make provisions for tough times.”

“Mayhap he has,” Ernand agreed grudgingly, “But the war needs to end! The Legions need to be withdrawn from the stable provinces and Black Marsh since it can hardly be considered a province, and deployed along the border to provide a buffer. No army in the world can stand against the Imperial Legion!”

Ethredor regarded Ernand with a skeptical look, but forbore to make a further fuss over it. “Look at it this way, my friend, the war isn’t affecting you much, safe here in Valenwood as you are. So unless the khajiit try to steal more land along the Xylo River again, it’s not likely you’ll be seeing the effects of war.”

“Well,” Ernand raised his hand to scratch the back of his head and looked away from his host, “I must make for Hammerfell as quickly as possible.” That Ethredor was taken aback would be an understatement by Ernand’s standards, and he coughed on his ham for a full minute before finally clearing his throat.

“I thought you just said you wanted the war to end?” Seeing Ernand confused look, the elf elaborated, “There are only two reasons an armed man steps into Hammerfell these days. Pirating, or as a mercenary. You don’t have the look of a pirate, so it stands to reason you seek employment as a fighter.”

“What?” Ernand questioned indignantly, “Of course I’m not going there as a mercenary!”

“Then why?”

Ernand choked on his own words. He couldn’t very well tell the elf he was going to plunder the Fang Lair, not without a great deal of suspicion. And while he had no reason to think Ethredor would betray him, the thought that his tale could eventually reach Jagar Tharn in Cyrodiil, and that he might find a knife in his back later on, held his tongue. So, Ernand lied.

“Will you swear that what I’m about to tell you won’t leave this room?” Ethredor leaned in, nodding vigorously, an excited smile on his lips. “Well, remember how I told you I was coming up from Longvale? Well, I’m still in their employ. The Altmer sorcerers down there require a certain book held in Sentinel’s library. They’ve sent me to get it.”

“Oh,” Ethredor clapped his hands together in excitement, “I do so adore espionage. What is the book for?”

“No idea. They did not tell me.”

“Figures,” Ethredor scoffed, “Altmer never tell anyone anything. Well, you’ve satisfied my curiosity. So how do you plan on getting there?”

“I don’t know,” Ernand shrugged, “Boat I guess.” Ethredor seemed to go into deep thought for a moment, and this time it was Ernand’s turn to quirk an eyebrow. “What are you thinking?”

“You know,” the elf mused, “You could take a ship to Stros M’Kai. The Mages Guild there could then teleport you to Rihad. It would cost a bit more; Guild Guiding isn’t cheap, especially for a non-member, but it would save you a few days of sea travel.”

“A good plan,” Ernand agreed, “But what port should I take?”

“Emperor’s Run. It’s the only decent port on the western coats. Filled with Altmer, though. Outside of Elden Root, it’s their main hub. And I would avoid the road by Falinesti, and take the trail straight to Emperor’s Run.”

“I thank you, Ethredor. You’ve been most kind to me, acts I will not soon forget.”

Etherdor waved off Ernand’s thanks. “You’ve more than repaid me by selling me that jewel of yours. Our trade was a fair deal, but I intend to swindle some Nibeneans fop for all the septims he’s got!” The two shared a hearty laughed before Ethredor once again spoke. “I suspect you’ll be wanting to get going as soon as possible. Master Ausk has your blade.”

Ernand nodded. Wiping his mouth and hands on his napkin, he stood from his seat. Extending his hand, which Ethredor took, the two shared a handshake. Silently, Ernand slipped out of the dining room and then out of the manor. With one last look to make sure the Breton was gone, Ethredor sighed.

Are you alone?

Ethredor sighed, “Yes, Master. My guest is gone.”

You have been in Valenwood for too long, Asuul. You know where I need you. Skelos Undriel must not be allowed to live!

“Is he truly such a threat to you, Master?”

Perhaps not, but I do not want to take the risk. You must for the Reach immediately. Find Lakvan, he’ll know where to go from there.

“I hear and I obey, Master.”

*

After a quick stop by the smithy to pick up his sword, Ernand made his way over to to Malgoth’s stables. Knocking on the door, Ernand called out, “Moth, open up! I need my horse!” Getting no response, he slammed on the door with his fist a few more times. “C’mon! I need to get going!” After a few moments, the door slowly creaked open revealing a young Bosmer, his eyes wide with suppressed fear.

“Can—can I help you, sir?”

“Aren’t you one of the stable hands?” the youth nodded. “Where’s Moth?”

“I don’t know. He never returned last night.”

Ernand frowned. Moth’s entire life seemed to center around his stable, and it seemed strange to the Breton that he would leave it for even the shortest of times, let alone an entire night. A memory of the night before surfaced then, the Breton remembering that he had seen the Bosmer, red-faced and embarrassed, flirting with a young lady at a cook’s booth.

Grinning at the young Bosmer, Ernand comforted him by saying, “I would fear for your master. He’s probably just taking his,” the grin got wider, “Ease somewhere.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Now,” Ernand pushed the door in a little, encountering little resistance from the stable hand, “Could you saddle my horse? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

The little elf had brightened enormously now that he was assured his master was safe and well. Leading his client to the stables, he had the Breton pick out his steed, and then went about the meticulous act of saddling the mount. That achieved, he led the horse out for Ernand inspection.

Pleased at the stable hands work, he reached into the coin-purse at his side, drawing from it a shiny coin. “A septim for your trouble,” he said as he flipped the coin to ecstatic Bosmer. Mounting the horse easily, Ernand guided it out of the stable and into the open air. Breathing deeply, he spurred it into a quick trot up the lane to the west. Following Ethredor’s advice, he swerved before getting on the road to Falinesti, getting on to a rough path that led straight through the woods to the port of Emperor’s Run and the Fang Lair.


This post has been edited by Verlox: Jun 2 2010, 04:03 AM