Edward an Imperial's Story, Coward, bounder, thief, murderer...and hero? Options

[Rachel the Breton]

For many, this story is not new, but has been running for awhile on Bethesda. While most of the beginning is not going to be updated, there are points where I'm fixing the grammar/tweaking things...so, if you want to reread, or if you haven't read it yet, please do.
This is a parody, so note that I've taken some rather significant liberties with the story/world...I know some people hate that, so you've been warned.


Oh prison really, really sucks,
I should be out making big bucks
Instead I'm rotting in this stinking cell
I just hope my honoured user jailer rots in hell!
-- Edward's Lament

Chapter One

Once upon a time, in a far away land, an Imperial named Edward lived in the Imperial Dungeon of the Imperial City . Edward was an average young man, with nothing outstanding about his background, family, life, or appearance. Indeed, he was so ordinary that no one seemed to know anything about him, and he didn't remember anything about his past (at least, that was his story, and he was sticking to it). All he knew was that he was stuck in a jail cell -- and there, across from him, was another prisoner, taunting him.


Edward didn't pay much attention to what was said, but he got the gist...the guards were going to torture and kill him, as that's all that happened to prisoners here.


"Funny," Edward thought, "this guy doesn't look like he's been tortured, and, unfortunately, he's still alive, and making a damn lot of noise, too..."


Just then, the distant clinking of armor came to the prisoners' ears.


"Aha, they're coming for you!" the annoying prisoner taunted.


Edward frowned. Maybe, just maybe, he might find out why he was here. It couldn't have been those loaves of bread, swiped from the King and Queen Tavern, could it? Nah, no one saw him, he was sure. What about that beggar...what was his name?...that he'd pickpocketed as he slept in the rain outside the chapel. No, surely, they wouldn't throw a respectable young man like him in prison over a slimy beggar, would they?


He waited, musing these things silently, as the noise grew louder, and then, to his surprise, a group of guards and a very well dressed man came into view. Edward's blue eyes sparkled as he saw the rich robes.


"Those must be worth a fortune! And that amulet! I'll bet I could sell that for a lot!"


"Stand aside, prisoner!" an authoritative voice demanded. "Move to the end of the cell, and do not interfere!"


Edward hesitated, his eyes still fixed on the amulet.


"Now! Or we'll make you!" the voice commanded again.


Something in the tone caused Edward to draw his eyes away from the sparkling gem, and to the speaker.


Jumping as he did so, he quickly complied; the speaker had been a less-than-friendly, armor clad, weapon wielding warrior, surrounded by two similarly attired, similarly armed, similarly disposed warriors. Edward tripped in his haste to oblige, but pulled himself up quickly. "Why certainly, milady! Happy to be of service!" he declared.


The warrior scoffed at him, and turned to the rich man. "The passage is here, my lord. I don't know why they put a prisoner in this cell; it is always supposed to be off limits."


The rich man seemed sullen, and did not speak.


"Come with us, my emperor; time is pressing!"


"Emperor!" Edward gasped.


"Why?" the Emperor asked, his tone melancholy. "It's no use...nothing is any use anymore."


The warriors exchanged glances, and the apparent leader spoke again. "My lord, let us get you to sanctuary, where you may then contemplate the futility of existence in safety."


Edward hadn't paid much attention to this conversation, though, as he'd found his eyes returning to the amulet. "You know," he thought to himself, "I'll bet an emperor's amulet would sell for a fortune, even if that ruby is fake!" He found himself licking his lips nervously. Here, merely an arm's length away, was probably his fortune made; but his arms were shackled, and three very unsympathetic guards stood between him and retirement.


The Emperor seemed to sense Edward's eyes on him, and he turned. The old man's eyes lit up. "You!" he whispered. "I've seen you in my dreams!"


Edward grimaced. "Sorry, but I don't go that way."


The Emperor looked at him in puzzlement. "This is fate!" he said at last.


"Sorry," Edward said, stepping backwards. "Not interested." To himself, he wondered at the impertinence of this man. "And, really," he thought, "that's the worst line I've ever heard. 'I've seen you in my dreams'...please!"

"But...the fate of the world rests in your hands! The gods have chosen you to save this empire!"


Edward blinked. He liked the sound of that, but he was still suspicious about the old man's motives. "How?"


"My sons are dead...my time in this life is at an end," the Emperor said.


"Oh, I see," Edward said, his manner suddenly very engaging and excited. "And you need a good, trustworthy soul to take over the empire after you...expire? And, of course, you recognize the very virtues and character you seek in me?"


The Emperor raised an eyebrow. "No...but I might need you to deliver a message for me, if I expire before I can deliver it myself."


Edward's jaw dropped. "A message? You think my virtues and character are only worthy of being a royal messenger?!"


"Well," the Emperor answered slowly, "not really...but, if my visions are right, you'll be the only one I have left to carry the message when the time comes, so I'll have to take a chance on you."


Edward frowned deeply at the old man. Of all the insolence!


"Are you interested?" the Emperor asked.


"Sorry, Mr. Kingy, but you can take your message and stick it up your..." Edward paused, seeing the warriors suddenly moving at him. "...mailbox?" he finished meekly.


The Emperor shrugged, and started to head down a passage that had, somehow, appeared in Edward's cell wall. "Ah well, suit yourself. Of course, it would have meant that you'd get out of prison, but..."


By now, the guards and emperor had disappeared around a bend in the passage, but Edward lost no time in taking to his heels after them, calling, "Wait! Wait, I've changed my mind!"




This post has been edited by Rachel the Breton: Aug 25 2010, 01:28 AM

[Rachel the Breton]

Warriors that come and go,
Dead men that I don't know,
Life is very strange indeed
For a poor Imperial in need.
-- Edward's Lament, Continued

Chapter Two

Edward caught up with the Emperor just in time to hear him declare, in very melancholy tones, "Woe, woe is me!"

"Yes, my lord," one of the guards said. "But, if you'll just come this way..."

"Ahh, but life is such a futile thing!" the Emperor continued to say.

"What a whiner," Edward thought to himself. Aloud, however, he declared, "My lord, I changed my mind! I would be honored to deliver your message!"

"Life!" the Emperor declared. "What is life? This thing, that we love, that we cherish, that we fear so much to lose? What is life, after all?"

One of the guards cleared his throat. "My lord, if we could continue, so that you could contemplate life when yours is not imperiled?"

"This valley of woe, this plain of suffering, this mountain of worry, this world of trouble and hardship...why, why, why do we hold it so dear? Why do we flee, as if staying and risking an end to it, life, would be such a terrible thing? Tell me that!"

The guards shifted their weight. "Well, my lord, the people need their Emperor!"

At this point, Edward tried to interpose, saying, "My lord, I will be your messenger!" But he was ignored.

"The people," the Emperor scoffed. "What are the people? A bunch of miscreants, peasants, low lives, thieves, murderers, prisoners, greedy priests, conniving noblemen, ambitious officials: riffraff, all of them!" He glanced at Edward. "Look you at this one, and see what I mean!"

Edward frowned, about to make some response, but just then a noise distracted all of their attention. Glancing toward it, Edward saw a trio of ferocious, grotesquely armored men who, apparently, spawned out of the thin air. The three warriors charged to meet the would-be assassins, while, in unison, the Emperor and the prisoner let loose a squeal of terror and ran to the furthest end of the room, where they cowered together.

They remained unmoving, their hands over their heads as they huddled, until the fighting stopped. Then they glanced up, to see three slain men in silk robes. "Divines Not-Quite-Almighty!" Edward shouted, staring at the three corpses. "Where did they come from? And where in Oblivion are the other guys?"

The guards stared at him with distaste, but made no response. "Come my lord," the leader declared, turning to the emperor.

The Emperor stood, and Edward marveled at the man's ability to go from cowering wreck to imperious leader in just a second or so. "That," he thought, "is a real leader! Someone who can adapt to the situation! Someone who-"

He was interrupted from his reverie by someone calling, "Prisoner!"

Edward looked up.

"If you're coming, let's go!" the guard called to him.

Edward nodded, and fell in line. But then he stopped as he caught site of the corpses, and a thought came to him. "You go on ahead of me," he declared. "I've got a cramp in my leg, and I don't want to slow you down or anything. I'll be along as soon as it's gone, but you need to get the emperor to safety!"

"Safety!" the Emperor exclaimed. "What is safety? Who is safe? And from what? Can we ever be safe? Can anyone ever be safe?"

The guards made no argument with Edward, but quietly, politely and respectfully herded the Emperor, who was still mulling the questions he'd posed, toward a distant passage.

Edward, his eyes gleaming, waited for them to go, and then, when they were out of sight, hurried to the corpses. Whoever these creatures were, their fine robes indicated that they were prestigious -- which meant that they probably carried something of value on their persons! With eager hands, Edward searched their pockets. However, much to his chagrin, he found nothing whatever. "Who in Marooned Dragon's name goes around dressed in silk from head to toe, but not carrying anything? Not even a single gold piece?" he wondered. "Worthless bastards...I'm glad you're dead..." Disgusted, he kicked the corpse nearest him and walked toward the passage that the Emperor had disappeared down, but then paused again. "Silk...silk is expensive!"

With this thought, he returned to the corpses and, with much difficulty, proceeded to strip them. Having completed this, he smiled at his handiwork. There, he'd collected three complete silk robes. "Now," he thought. "What am I going to do with them?" He looked at his own clothes, hoping to find a place to store them; but he was wearing typical prison clothes: dirty sack cloth and old sandals. He sighed. No pockets, no secret hiding places.

And then an idea hit him with a flash. Why should he wear dirty, smelly sack cloth, when right there was fine silk?? Smiling and humming to himself, he stripped off his old clothes -- with some difficulty, as he was still wearing his wrist irons -- and slipped into the red robe. Just because he thought it looked especially stylish, he slipped on the silk hood that matched the robe; then, with great joy, he found a compartment in his robe where he could stash the other two. "There," he thought to himself, "All done...now, where's a mirror?" He searched around for a mirror, but found none. "Maybe the Emperor has a mirror," he mused. With this in mind, and dressed in the silk robes of the assassins, he took off in the direction that the emperor had traveled.