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]

Before my death they called me an emo,
But those fools didn't know what I know.
You can bet they too would be depressed
If they knew in whose hands the fate of the empire rests.
-- Emperor Uriel Septim

Chapter Five

Edward growled as he stepped into the sunlight. To any observer, that might have been a strange reaction for a man who had just stepped out of a sewer pipe; but, had that observer known the reason, he might have been more sympathetic. Or, he might just have laughed heartily. But, whether falling into and nearly drowning in rivers of septic waste, being chased by giant crabs, gnawed on by enormous rats, beaten senseless by headless zombies, bitten mercilessly by humongous slaughterfish and cussed at by one very foul tempered (and mouthed) urchin who'd made the sewers his home is a matter to laugh about or sympathize over, such was Edward's ordeal. And so it was that, when he emerged -- stinking of sewerage, covered in rat and fish bites, bruised and bloody from his beatings, and smarting inwardly at the urchin's insults -- he was not baby faced, and he most certainly did not look like a girl! -- he growled at the sun, cursed the dead emperor, wished he could strangle that blasted guard, and finally swore at anything and everything about him. Then, and only then, did he plunge into the river to rinse some, at least, of the stinking sewerage from his body.


Swimming to the shore opposite him, gasping for breath, he managed to pull his dripping body out of the lake. "Great Divines!" he cursed. "Who knew swimming in an ankle-length robe could be so damned difficult?!" He squeezed and wrung the robe out as best as he was able, and then sighed and resigned himself to walking about in soggy clothes.


A sudden thought struck him. "I wonder if being soaked in sewerage will bring the value of these robes down?" He frowned. "Maybe I can just wash them really well." He glanced around him, and his eye caught sight of a flower. "Perfect!" he thought. "Flowers! Flowers smell nice! After I wash them, I can soak them in water and flowers, so the sewerage smell will be drowned by pretty flower smells!"

Smiling to himself at his diabolical cleverness, he set about picking all the flowers he saw. How long he spent thus engaged he wasn't sure, but, when he glanced up, he noticed that the sun was setting. At the same time, he heard his stomach growl, and felt just how very uncomfortable he was in the heavy wet clothes. "Damn it!" he thought. "I need to get to somewhere where I can dry off, eat something and sleep in a nice, warm bed!"


Glancing about, he realized that the shore he'd swum to after exiting the sewer was actually the shore of an island, and that he'd have to jump back in the river to get anywhere at all. Sighing and cursing all at the same time, he braced mentally, and then plunged into the water once more, this time heading back to the Imperial City's shore -- the same shore he'd originally come from.


Sputtering, gasping, swearing and praying, Edward was finally, barely, able to make it to the shore. He straightened himself up, still gasping for breath, and glanced behind him at the island. To his horror, he saw a floating trail of flowers -- his flowers! -- in his wake. He collapsed to the beach as he realized that the flowers he'd spent so long collecting had all, somehow, floated out of his robe.


Then, a feeling of terror gripping him, he searched the drenched folds of his robe for the emperor's amulet. At first he found only a few petals here and there -- the remnants of his magnificent botanic enterprise -- but, at last, he found the ruby amulet. Deciding that the safest thing he could possibly do was wear the amulet -- that way he'd always know right where it was -- he slipped it over his neck. For a moment, the loss of his flowers, the nearly drowning in the river and, before that, sewage, and all the trials of the day were lost as he reflected that he, Edward the Imperial, was wearing an amulet that had, only hours before, belonged to the Emperor. "The now dead Emperor," he thought, and the idea suddenly lost some of its appeal.


Sighing, he surveyed the absurd almost cliff-like mountain that he'd have to scale to reach the Imperial City . But, being the courageous adventurer that he was...well, actually, being half starved, very uncomfortable and starting to get rather chilly...he set about climbing the steep mountainside.


It was not long, however, before he discovered that -- if it was possible -- climbing in heavy, wet robes was actually more difficult than swimming in them. More than that, but the ankle length skirt of the robe, and the large sleeves, continually got caught in the bushes, crags and apparently everywhere else, so that he kept falling, tripping, and picking himself up to start over again. Forty-five minutes later, and only a little way up the mountainside -- but very scratched, tired and angry -- Edward paused for a rest. He was panting heavily -- so heavily that he thought his lungs might explode -- and the sun was disappearing very quickly. By the meager light that was left, he surveyed his robe. He was dismayed to find that, not only had the robe he was wearing, but the others too, been quite shredded. "I'll never be able to sell these!" he mourned. "No one will buy them!" He paused, a thought coming to him. "Well, maybe a beggar...after all, they're about as torn as the crap that they wear, but these are real silk!" Then another idea came to him. "But...will a beggar be able to afford them?" He scowled. Beggars always looked so scraggly and starved that he doubted they'd have the money for a new set of clothes, even if they were sewerage scented silk.


He glanced upward, at the summit which he had yet to conquer, and then came to a resolution. "To oblivion with it," he declared, stripping off the stinking, soggy silk, and watching with satisfaction as the bundle of fabric slid down the hill face.


And then he felt the night air assault his body, which, save for his underpants and the amulet, was bare. Scrambling quickly, he managed to scale the remainder of the cliff in what must have been record time.


So it was that a shivering, scratched, scarred, and bruised man, wearing only a loincloth and an expensive amulet, walked into the Imperial City some half an hour later.