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]

Of fools and thieves we sings,
Who come and take our things,
Robbing from the beggars and poor,
Always wanting more and more.
-- Imperial City beggars' song, after a recent rash of robberies against the homeless

Chapter Thirty

Edward and his valet had remained in the Imperial City for a few weeks. Ostensibly, this delay was a show of Edward's kindness to his faithful retainer, so that the latter could pursue his thieving missions, but realistically it was a chance for the former to recover from his various injuries.

Which isn't to say, of course, that Edward sat about lazily doing nothing the entire time they were in the city; no indeed! He only spent most of it lazing about; but the few hours a day every couple of days that he felt an urge of ambition (or the pang of jealousy, in comparing his servant's extremely successful endeavors to his own less notable ones), he would try his hand at thieving. So it was that there was not a beggar in the city who had not noticed something missing when he returned to his bedroll; so it was that there was not a church or chapel nearby without a story of something vanishing; so it was that the story of a strange pilgrim who carried a heavy, worn bag and traveled throughout the city leaving a trail of gems and cheap silverware behind him was born.

Near the end of their stay, Edward had learnt that his valet's fence was not in the Imperial City , but in Bruma. This had angered Edward, who had no desire to travel to a hub of barbarians, as he termed the Nord city. This in turn prompted his valet to volunteer to take the goods himself and return in a week's time with their payment.

Edward had approved this solution, and so relinquished his treasure horde -- only after meticulously listing out every item, and preparing a copy of the list for himself and his valet, along with space for his valet to record how much each item had sold for. Then, having only one horse between them, they had had to rent another horse to transport Edward's sizable stash. Edward had grumbled, but eventually forked over the 40 gold necessary for the rental.

Now, six and a half days later, Edward waited eagerly for his valet to return. The minutes seemed to drag by like hours as he awaited the arrival of his horde of gold, but, finally, he saw his valet from his hotel window. Racing down the stairs, two steps at a time, he rushed out to meet the other man.

"You're back!" he shouted exuberantly.

"Yes sir," the valet replied, smiling.

"Excellent, excellent! And how was your journey?" he asked, thinking it best not to appear too terribly eager, despite the fact that he was, in truth, that eager.

"Oh, very good sir. The mountains were a bit of rough going, particularly for the horses...yours especially seemed hardly to be able to move under all your stuff, but he made it eventually. And then we did have a run-in with wolves as we neared the Jerall mountains, but that wasn't as exciting as our run-in with the bandits. You'll never believe what happened, but -"

"Yes, yes," Edward interrupted, unable to contain himself any longer. "I don't care about any of that. I just want to know about my loot!"

The valet cleared his throat, looked rather uncomfortable, and declared, "We'd better go in before discussing that, sir."

Edward protested, but the other man was unmovable, so at last he assented, complaining all the while. Once seated in their quarters at the inn, Edward repeated his query. "So, what about my loot? How much did I make?"

"Well, sir, I'm afraid that didn't turn out so well," the valet returned.

"Didn't turn out so well??" Edward demanded, his eyes coloring in suspicion. "What do you mean?"

"Well, sir, your haul didn't sell for as much as...well, as much as we might hope."

Edward's suspicion was now full blown; he was sure that his valet had either been gypped by a conniving fence, or was attempting to gyp him of his well deserved profits. "How much is 'not as much'?"

"Well, sir," the valet replied, shifting very uncomfortably in his seat, "35 gold."

Edward's eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and he began gesticulating wildly, finding it very difficult to put his fury to words.

"I have the complete rundown of everything," his valet hastened to add, "just like you said." Reaching into a leather bag at his side, he pulled out the piece of paper. "You see, most of the things you had, sir, no fence will buy...yarn...shears...things like that. So I had to find alternate buyers. I found a clothes maker for your yarn, and, after a lot of finagling, convinced her to buy it. Turns out that people either make their own yarn or trade it for goods," he explained.

Edward blinked stupidly, trying to understand, but having difficulty. He had collected such a glorious collection of yarn, of so many shades and colors, so many weights and materials, how could someone not buy it? "How much?" he managed to articulate. "How much did you get for it?"

The valet cleared his throat, shifted uncomfortably again, and replied, "Well sir, I was able to convince her to give me 5 gold for it."

Edward grasped at his heart, certain that such news would stop its beating. "Five gold?!" he breathed. "Five gold, for my lovely horde?!"

"Yes sir, I'm afraid so," the valet answered.

"What about my pottery? And my shears? What about all the parchment? The silverware? The dinner sets?"

The valet shifted again. "Well, as I say, sir, it's all meticulously recorded, as you requested. But, regarding the particulars, the story was the same with the shears. No one is interested in buying them. I eventually found a metal worker who agreed to purchase the lot to melt down, but there was no one else interested."

"And how much?" Edward asked, afraid to know the answer.

The valet sighed. "Five gold, sir."

Edward's eyes bulged again. He had sweated, slaved, persevered lugging around pound upon pound of metal shears, day after day, for a mere measly five gold??

"And," the valet hurried on, "the pottery you had was in...well, very poor condition, sir, and nobody was really interested, except..." Here he trailed off, and seemed almost afraid to continue.

"Except?" Edward demanded. "Except who??"

"Well, sir, a health inspector happened to be passing by one day as I was trying to make a sale, and he noticed one of your pots...it was particularly dirty and unpleasant. He insisted on performing a test on it, and turns out it was covered in some rather disgusting decay. So he...well, he confiscated the whole collection of pottery, and charged a 15 gold fee for the cost of proper disposal."

This news was too much for Edward, who sagged back into his chair despairingly.

"But don't worry sir," the valet interjected, "I paid for it out of my own profits."

Edward glared at him. "Profits?!" he demanded. "You said I made 35 gold -- that's less than it cost me to rent a horse to get the stuff there! -- and you made profits?!"

The valet cleared his throat. "Well, a little, sir."

"How much is a little?" Edward demanded, his eyes blazing.

The valet shifted. "Well, sir, I can't remember exactly..."

Edward rose, inarticulate but furious, gesturing wildly and demanding, in broken, rather profane, language, to be answered.

"Well, a little over a thousand gold," the valet finally confessed.

Edward fell backwards into his seat, stunned. This man, his servant -- his lowly servant! -- had made almost thirty times as much as him! "But you had so little!" Edward protested. "My horse was loaded down, and yours just had a small bag on it!"

"Yes sir, but I found some very valuable items."

Edward glared at him. "Where is my list?!" he demanded. "Give it to me!"

His valet hastened to comply. Edward scanned the list.

Yarn (20 lbs) - 5 gold
Shears (150 lbs) - 5 gold
Pottery (20 pieces) - (-15 gold, paid by me)
Parchment (5000 sheets) - 2 gold
Paintbrushes (150) - 1 gold
Dinnerware (100 pieces) - 20 gold
Artwork (5 pieces) - 2 gold

Total 35 gold (not counting fine)

Edward started to cry.