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]

Our latest news bulletin comes all the way from Bruma, that remote and exotic Nordish town. Word came to us only today that a maniac, posing as the Royal Decorator, infiltrated a resident of the town, one Baelin's, home and, in a wildly improbable -- yet independently verified -- series of deceptions and bunglings, unwittingly managed to knock half of the poor man's home down. Unfortunately, Baenlin was killed in the accident. His killer survived and was taken to jail, but subsequently released -- before his name could be ascertained by our correspondent -- due to his madness. The infiltration, it would seem, was but a bout of insanity with which the poor lunatic has been plagued his entire life. He was released into the custody of his trusty manservant, and the pair shortly thereafter vacated their room at the Jerall View Inn. No more is known of the lunatic, but our sympathies in this tragedy go out to both he and Master Baenlin.

-- Black Horse Courier, Special News Bulletin

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Edward had not been dreaming; he had, in fact, been sent to prison for attempted theft resulting in accidental murder -- an oxymoronic term that Edward was able to make neither heads nor tails of. It was only when his valet had approached the guards, and told a peculiar, but, after Edward's antics, plausible, cover story that he had been released.

It had taken Edward several days to rest up to the point where he was well enough to consider embarking on their trip home, and he had not learnt the details of his surprising rescue until then. His valet, it turned out, had spun the none-too-flattering tale that he, Edward, was a mad nobleman, in the charge of his trusty caretaker. Edward, the valet had said, would imagine himself as all sorts of things. When the guards had been suspicious, and recounted Edward's story to Gromm, the valet had just shook his head. "Dear me," he'd said, "so now it's the royal decorator, is it?" He'd sighed, and added, "Before we came up here, he was the high priest of the temple of Julianos ." He'd shaken his head when he said this. "And before that, he was the ghost of the recently deceased arch mage...you've no idea what a job it is to convince an old lady that the madman running around in the cemetery, carrying the hearts of dead animals for his 'spells', and dressed in a long white gown declaring that he'll get revenge isn't actually a threat." One more sigh, and the valet had sealed the deal, even with Gromm, who was able to forgive a madman what he would not forgive a sane man. The guards were sympathetic, but happy to have the lunatic out of their prison. Edward, as a result of his injuries, was not in his right senses for a while, and so fit their idea of a madman perfectly. So it was that Edward and his valet were able to make an escape from Bruma.

Despite the fact that his life had been saved, Edward was not entirely pleased with his valet's explanation; but he decided it was best not to quarrel with the man who had rescued him in his hour of dire need. So, they made their way back to the midlands, and back to Cheydinhal.

There was little conversation as they traveled, as both men were lost in thought. Edward's mind had returned to the almost forgotten amulet that hung about his neck. "I've made a little bit hunting killers and causing accidents," he thought, "but I've also got the ever-loving-poo kicked out of myself in the process. Maybe I should just throw in the towel, pawn that sucker off, and live in comfort for the rest of my life." The idea appealed to him, and yet something made him hesitate. Through all his adventures and misadventures, it had always comforted him to know that he had something to fall back on, even if he met with failure in his other ventures. Was he ready to dispose of that security?

At that moment, his valet spoke. "Sir?" he said.

"Yes?" Edward asked.

"Sir, I've been thinking..." Here he trailed off, his brow furrowing in thought.

"Well, umm, good for you," Edward ventured sarcastically after a moment.

This comment drew the other man's attention, and he frowned at Edward. "What I mean, sir," he said, "is that I've been thinking about the Emperor's death."

It was Edward's turn to frown now. "Well, umm, what about it?" he asked, feigning nonchalance.

"Well, I've heard rumors, sir...rumors that the Amulet of Kings has disappeared."

"The what?" Edward asked, frowning.

"The Amulet of Kings," his valet answered. "It's rumored to be a powerful magical item, that every emperor has to wear, or else the empire will plunge into darkness and despair! The emperor must have been wearing it when he died -- no emperor goes anywhere without it!"

Edward's frown intensified. "Damn it!" he thought. "No wonder that swine emperor was wearing the amulet I found out in the open like that...to conceal the Amulet of Kings! Oh, if only I had found that one...forget puny gold and rubies; I'd take an Amulet of Kings any day -- that even sounds cool! And I'll bet I could sell that baby for a fortune...heck, I could start bidding wars over it, between all the rich people who wanted to be king...they'd have no choice: pay what I asked, or lose the empire and watch it plunge into ruin and despair..." He paused from his reverie, a better idea coming to him. "Or," he thought excitedly, "I could keep it myself, and I could become emperor! I could rule the empire! And it's only a short step from ruling an empire to the world! I, Edward, could rule the world!!"

"Sir?!" a very astonished and concerned voice interrupted his thoughts.

Edward started, turned to his horrified valet, and then realized that he was instinctively, greedily licking his lips. He cleared his throat. "Oh, umm, my lips are, umm, chapped...you know, what with the bright sunlight and all that."

His valet nodded, but a hint of suspicion still lingered in his eye.