Old Habits Die Hard Part Five, New habits? Or just old ones recycled? Options

[haute ecole rider]

It's now time to start a new thread for Julian of Anvil. Now that she returns to her hometown, it's rather appropriate to start a new thread to celebrate!

Thanks to all who have read and posted input on Julian's story.

For those coming in late, if you've got the time, here are links to the previous threads:

Chapters One through Seven
Chapters Eight through Thirteen
Chapters Fourteen through Eighteen
Chapters Nineteen through Twenty-two

I hope you continue to enjoy this story as Julian works toward the inevitable conclusion!

[haute ecole rider]

@Grits: You will see Gweden farm in an upcoming post. And yes, Anvil is my favorite area too, but I have a particular soft spot for Kvatch.

@SubRosa: You may recall in Chapter 15.6 Martin asking Julian what happened to her family, and Julian’s response:

“Dead,” I said. “Twenty-nine years ago. Goblins tore them apart in our home.”

@Acadian: Everready Bunny? More like Duracell! (And I speak from over forty years of experience - Duracell kicks butt every single time!) And yes, Julian will continue to leave potential followers behind, unless she is specifically asked to take one along with her to teach the ropes (as she did for Fortran). And Julian’s time in Anvil is the perfect opportunity for us to learn more of her past.

@Foxy and mALX: Thanks!

@Captain Hammer: Sorry to make you work so hard! I really appreciate you taking the time to read this magnum opus of mine in its bloated entirety. Who woulda thunk it would take so long? I really hope you will continue to enjoy it.

@TK: Julian knows well home is where the heart is. It’s just that she has so many memories, some good, others not so pleasant, tied up with Anvil, and she has been away so long, that all she can see when she thinks of the place are those memories. Reality is quite different and she is seeing how. It’s a bit of an pause for her. Heck, Corvus wasn’t even the Count when she left Anvil on her eighteenth birthday!

@Olen: I’m mistaken, you said it back in Chapter 10. Post #70 in Thread Two, about the Mythic Dawn agents’ propensity for reckless assaults on sight. As for the goblins, I think it’s more a matter of she has it in for them. And we will soon find out just why.

Now Julian gets a homecoming like nuttin' else. And she finally gets recognition for closing an OG.

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Chapter 23.2 A Welcome Like No Other

I turned my back to the setting sun in time to be swarmed by giddy young guardsmen. Soot rose in black clouds from the charred ruins of the Gate at our feet as they gathered around, clapping my shoulders and back, hailing me by name. Before I could protest, they swept me off my feet and hoisted me above their shoulders, carrying me away from the destroyed wayshrine.

As we passed the portable forge, the ringing of a hammer on the anvil turned my head. I caught a glimpse of Enilroth banging away, his face lit by a wide grin. The aged Dunmer standing just behind him locked gazes with me, then he smiled and nodded at me before the guardsmen swept me onto the road.

People spilled out of Anvil’s main gate and filled the road from side to side before we reached the stables. I found myself transferred from guardsmen to civilians and carried within the city. They did not put me down until we reached the immense ancient ilex oak in the center of Guild Plaza. I found myself standing on a bench beneath its spreading branches, my head brushing the glossy green leaves, faces turned expectantly towards me.

One of the guardsmen fought his way to my side, leaping to stand beside me. “People of Anvil!” he roared, lifting his sword high. “The Hero of Kvatch!” The Imperial grinned at me as cheering washed over us, then he waved his sword for silence. As the voices faded away, he drew himself up in a vain attempt to match my height. “Our own hometown hero, three cheers for Julian of Anvil!” I felt the flush on my cheeks as he led the crowd in their hip-hip-hoorays.

Eagerly I scanned the crowd for familiar faces. Near the main gate, I could just make out Enilroth and Morvayn. Nearer to the tree, an elegant Altmer woman stood head and shoulders above the others, her assessing gaze cool on me. Carahil. She is still with the Mages Guild. I gave her a nod of recognition, but failed to identify anyone else in the sea of faces before me.

“Speech!” “Speech!” The rumbling grew louder as the guardsman turned to me with a question in his brown eyes. I swallowed the sudden walnut in my throat and nodded. My mind clicked frantically for the words the Anvilians needed most at this time.

“Thank you,” I began. Suddenly, the words I had spoken so long ago in the camp below the ruined city of Kvatch came back to me. “I know it’s been a scary time for you, with that Oblivion Gate open so close to the walls. I don’t doubt all of you know what happened at Kvatch.” The sudden murmuring gave me a chance to pause and marshal my thoughts. When the citizens fell silent at the guardsman’s brandished sword, I continued. “There may be more Gates opening near Anvil. When that happens -“ again mutterings rose again, but fell quickly before the soldier’s withering gaze. “When that happens, I want you to remember this. The daedra will try to destroy you, but as long as you live, Anvil will always live. Though you may live in fear, do not give up hope, for the day is coming when the minions of Mehrunes Dagon are banished forever.”

As the crowd cheered, again I met Morvayn’s gaze across the Plaza. At his side, Enilroth lifted an object I recognized as my pack. I nodded at them, and they began making their way toward Morvayn’s smithy, facing the square.

“Now it’s late,” I resumed when the cheering subsided. “It’s time for dinner, and time for celebration!”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” a brown-dressed Bosmer man shouted gleefully. “First round of drinks at the Flowing Bowl is free!”

“Same at the Count’s Arms!” A bald Redguard called from the edge of the gathering. Laughter and scattered cheers rippled through the plaza as people began scattering.

The guardsman turned to me. “That was a nice speech, ma’am,” he removed his helm to reveal close-cropped dark hair above olive skinned Nibenean features. “That was good work out there at the Gate, too. We really appreciate you coming along to help us out.” Tucking the helmet beneath his left arm, he stuck his right hand to me. “Name’s Galus Varus. I’m lieutenant to Captain Langley.”

“Thanks for the introduction,” I shook hands with him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so welcomed!”

“Well, no other city can claim you as their own homegrown hero, can they?” Varus grinned and clapped me on the shoulder. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Actually, I wanted to look up an old friend,” I jerked my thumb toward the red-tiled building to the side of the main gate. “Besides, I should be the one paying for drinks. After all, you and your comrades defended Anvil for over a month!”

“Ach, but you’ve been closing Gates all over Cyrodiil!” Varus countered. “Well, make sure that old friend treats you to a good meal and drink tonight!”

I stepped down from the bench and began weaving my way through the crowd. Carahil stopped me before I moved a few paces. “Julian, will you be coming to the chapterhouse?”

“Later, ma’am,” I answered. “First I need to leave my armor and weapons with Morvayn for repair.”

“Of course,” Carahil nodded, her violet gaze flickering toward the squat smithy. “I know you’re traveling for recommendations for the University. We have just the task for one possessing your skills. Stop in when you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” I said. “You can count on me, ma’am.”

My progress toward Morvayn’s was delayed by men shaking my hands and women hugging me before dispersing to their homes and inns. Night had fallen, but the city glowed with streetlamps and torches held by several citizens. By the time I reached the stoop of Morvayn’s Peacemakers, few people remained in the Guild Plaza.

“Julian!” The shout reached me as I placed my hand on the handle of the smithy’s front door. I paused and turned around to see a young Dunmer boy, dressed in fine linens of turquoise and white, run up to me. He stopped at the foot of the steps, panting for breath, his black hair flopping into his eyes. Impatiently he brushed it back and met my gaze. “The Countess of Anvil salutes you on your achievement, Hero of Kvatch.” He bowed perfunctorily and finally managed to take a deep breath. “She requests your presence at the County Hall in the morning.”

“What time?” I asked. Thank Akatosh! Looks like I won’t have any trouble seeking audience with Countess Umbranox. But will she send aid to Bruma?

“Seven bells,” he replied. Again he brushed that stubborn forelock out of his face. “Will you be there?”

“What’s your name?” I asked him.

He straightened up and puffed his chest out. “Midave Sendal, ma’am.”

“Midave Sendal, you can tell the Countess I will stand before her at seven bells in the morning.”

“Very well!” Sendal’s white teeth flashed in his dusky face, then he spun on his heel and ran off.

Enilroth met me within the smithy, holding his hands out for my weapons. “We’ll get your gear fixed right up, ma’am!” As I handed him the bows, he jerked his head toward the stairs at the rear of the shop. “Varel’s upstairs. Your pack’s there,” he indicated the changing alcove. “If you want to change out of your armor and leave it here too before you go upstairs.”

I did as he suggested and changed into my civilian clothing. Leaving my damaged armor beside the forge, where Enilroth was already evaluating my swords, I headed upstairs.

Morvayn looked up from setting a serving bowl on the table when I entered the large multipurpose room upstairs. The distinctive aroma of pasta alla norma caused me to inhale sharply, bittersweet memories rising to the surface of my weary mind. We looked at each other, unspeaking, for several long moments. Briefly I wondered if he felt the same swirl of emotions I was experiencing in that moment. He was just as I remembered him, lean and wiry, his eyes that wonderful ruby color, his hair only a little greyer than when I last saw him twenty-nine years ago.

Now that I stood before him, I couldn’t think of anything to say. Likely he has the same problem. I became aware of the absence of another. “Enilroth told me about Athesi Andala, ser.” I said finally. “I’m very sorry. I had hoped to see her again as well.”

Morvayn’s scarlet gaze flickered momentarily. “She was so proud of you when you became pilus prior.” He smiled wistfully. “Athesi bragged about you to everyone who would listen.”

I smiled back and moved to the table. Alongside the pasta dish, embellished with sauteed eggplant, chunky tomato sauce and fresh basil and topped by soft ricotta salata, fresh salad greens tossed with pear slices, grated pecorino, dried dates and sunflower seeds filled three small bowls.

“Join Enilroth and me for dinner, Julian,” Morvayn said quietly. I met his gaze again, and suddenly felt like crying. Without a second thought, I stepped to the other side of the table and threw my arms around his shoulders. He returned my hug firmly, his hands patting my back. “It’s good to have you back Julian.” His voice was suspiciously rough.

“It’s good to see you again, Morvayn.”