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]

@ Cap’n Bam Bam: Yes, tenant clearing will be a little bit interesting. As for Morvayn’s dialogue, I elected to leave ‘there’ out since he is speaking very informally with Julian. As for showing skin, well, that’s reserved for that one special man.

@mALX: We have plenty of six-foot snowbanks around here for you to dive in. Feel free! See you in the spring.

@SubRosa: Julian and I just loved your comment way back when you said Julian just can’t resist helping a cat up in a tree (me neither!). I thought it was a good idea for our readers to have a clear idea of how Julian really got injured so badly, since up until now we only had bits and pieces. Morvayn and one other person that we will meet later in the chapter are the only people with whom Julian really feels comfortable about letting her vulnerabilities show. And yes, I have plans for her future that involves more magicka!

@Acadian: You’re welcome for the chow! You know I try to feed you at least once a chapter! As for Julian’s past and future, we’ll see quite a bit of her past, and a little bit of her future.

@TK: I knew you were kidding with your comment. But not everyone knows the difference between Italian and Sicilian, and being part Italian myself (Palermo region), I couldn’t resist the opportunity to - ah - enlighten those who may most benefit from it!

@Olen: Thanks for the vote of approval on the character building in this chapter.

@Grits: I really wanted to show Enilroth as more than just another annoying Bosmer (whew, narrowly escaped alliteration there!). And there will be more of Julian’s past revealed in upcoming segments.

After an evening of good fare and better conversation, Julian finally makes her way to the Mages Guild. As we will see, this place holds its own memories for her as well.

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Chapter 23.4 Friendly Mages and a Tame Imp

The Chapel bells rang twelve times as I crossed the Guild Plaza from Morvayn’s smithy to the Anvil chapterhouse of the Mages Guild. My pack still weighed down my back, since I had collected several daedra hearts. If Felen Relas was still assigned to Anvil, I knew he would appreciate fresh samples of an otherwise hard-to-come-by ingredient.

The chapterhouse was quiet as I entered. Before me, the counter stood unattended. The room and its furnishings were unchanged from my childhood memories.

“What, little imp?” The brown-haired Breton mock-growled at me, looking down from his great height. He placed his hands on the countertop and peered over its edge at what I held. “Did you steal those from Mistress Thelas’s garden?”

“No, sir!” I piped up, lifting the bunch of purple-pink blossoms up for his perusal. “Mother picked these herself!” I could barely see over the top of the counter. “She said Master Relas needed more!”

“I believe Master Relas wanted the seeds, not the flowers,” the chapter head scowled at me. “Your mother wouldn’t make such a amateur mistake, Julian. I still think you stole them from Mistress Thelas’s backyard.”

“No, sir,” I jumped up and down. “I’m telling the truth, sir!” Again I held the fragrant bouquet up. “See, Mother tied them with a ribbon like she always does!”

The Breton’s brown eyes sparkled at me, but his expression remained skeptical. “How easy would it be for you to tie a stolen bunch of bergamot flowers with your very own ribbon?”

I stamped my foot. “It’s turquoise! That means it’s Mother’s. Mine are always green!”

“Oh, so you stole your mother’s ribbon, as well?” His left brow rose. I stared at that wayward feature, and tried hard to lift my right brow in imitation. I couldn’t quite do it.

“Stop teasing the child, Master-Wizard,” Felen Relas spoke from the doorway into his alchemical studio. “You’ll likely give her ideas for the next time. Her mother wouldn’t approve of it.”

“Neither would I!” the Breton exclaimed. His forbidding expression dissolved into an puckish grin as he waved me toward the waiting Dunmer alchemist. “Scoot, little imp!”

“Thank you, sir!” I bobbed a curtsy to him as my mother had taught me. The chapter head’s chuckle followed me as I skipped to Relas and thrust my fragrant burden towards his face. As Relas accepted the bouquet, I turned around and stuck my tongue out at the Breton. “I told you I didn’t steal them!”

He spiked his left hand toward the ceiling. Sulfurous magic swirled in front of the counter and coalesced into an imp. As the creature, leathery wings flapping, turned toward me, I scampered after Relas into the studio with a squeal.

The flapping of leathery wings brought me back to the present. I blinked, looking for the brown-haired Breton. Instead, a fluttering shadow from the right appeared in the doorway, followed by a male Bosmer. His brown gaze fell on me.

“So Sparky did hear someone come in!” he exclaimed as the imp hovered at his shoulder. I watched the creature warily, but the little beast did not make any threatening moves, only watched me with wide, curious eyes. “Hello, Julian of Anvil!” the wood elf continued. “Carahil mentioned that you would be coming by tonight. Welcome to the Anvil chapter! I’m Thaurron, Journeyman.”

I tore my gaze from the lesser demon to meet the Bosmer’s gaze. “That’s Sparky?” I gestured toward the imp.

“Yes,” Thaurron grinned. “I found him when he was just a fingerling, near death beside the road. I took him in and healed him right up, and he’s hung around with me ever since!” He turned and waved the imp off. “He’s a terrific watchdog here. No one ever has to wait long for service!”

“I see -.” But I didn’t. Why would someone want to heal an injured imp? They’re such nasty creatures, and frightfully aggressive with their targeted spells.

Somehow Thaurron sensed my skepticism. “Oh, I know, I know. What possessed me to do that? I really can’t tell you why I saved his life, but he’s been a great companion since. It’s like taking in a wolf cub because you feel sorry for it, even though it could grow up into a livestock killer.” He moved back to let me into the dining hall at the rear. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes, I had dinner at Morvayn’s,” I answered. Thaurron’s brows rose in surprise.

“The smith?” He shook his head. “Do you know him?”

“My brother apprenticed to him over thirty years ago,” I followed Thaurron toward the stairs.

“That’s before my time,” Thaurron opened the door at the top of the stairs. He led me through. “This is the library,” he murmured softly. “Carahil and Felen Relas have already turned in for the night. We do have a guest bed, but it’s upstairs.”

So Felen Relas is still alchemist here. But where is the chapter head? “Lead on, sir,” I nodded my willingness to follow. Thaurron smiled and did so.

At the top of the second flight we entered an attic room with three gables, one on either side and the third directly across from the door. Thaurron pointed at the wide bed in front of us. “That’s the guest bed, Julian,” he said. “Marc!”

A Breton seated off to the right lifted his head from a book. His brown eyes brightened when his gaze fell on me. “Welcome, Hero of Kvatch!” With a finger tucked between the pages to hold his place, he rose and held his right hand out to me. “I’m Marc Gulitte, Mages Guild Evoker, and advanced trainer in destruction.” His grip was firm and confident as we shook hands. He waved toward the double bed. “You can sleep there. I take it you were at Skingrad before coming here?”

I slid a glance at him before setting my pack down on the wide mattress. Gulitte grinned widely, exchanging an I-told-you-so look with Thaurron. “Yes, I was,” I confirmed him as Sparky fluttered lazily after me. I noticed the imp’s eyes were fixed on my pack. “Thaurron, what does he eat?”

“Oh, Sparky!” Thaurron tossed a mild spell at the imp. “No, no, no!” The creature returned to the Bosmer’s side, looking sheepish, if that were possible. “Anything we eat,” Thaurron continued. “He’s been taught to eat only what we give him.” He selected an apple from a bowl on a nearby desk. Sparky watched with intense anticipation as Thaurron cut the fruit into thin slices. He handed three to me. “Here, give him one at a time.”

Sparky remained fixated on the bulk of the apple, still resting on the desk. Thaurron smiled at me. “Just whistle. You do know how to whistle, don’t you?”

“Just put your lips together and blow,” I answered, and did so. Sparky’s head turned sharply toward me, and he looked into my face. When I held up the apple slice, he fluttered eagerly over and reached for it. His grasp was surprisingly gentle, and he waited until I released the apple before conveying it to his mouth. He held it in both hands and nibbled delicately on it. I watched, captivated in spite of myself, as his wings worked to keep him roughly eye level with me. He met my gaze when he finished the slice, licking the last of the juice from his lips.

“What was that spell you used on him?” I asked, handing another slice to the gentle imp.

“That was a very mild drain magicka spell,” Thaurron replied. “Lasts as long as it takes you to blink. It’s mostly to get his attention more than anything else. I made it at the University when I was trying to train him.” He tilted his head at me. “Do you have anything edible in your pack?”

“I have some daedra hearts in there, for the alchemist here,” I answered. “He probably smells them, even though I rinsed them off.”

“No wonder he was trying to investigate!” Thaurron moved to a trunk that sat at the foot of the bed. He cast an unlock spell at it, and swung the lid up. “Stow your gear in there, and I’ll spell-lock it right up.”

I noticed the trunk had a conventional lock as well. “If you have the key for it -“

“Oh, Sparky can pick the usual locks,” Thaurron picked up my pack and gave me a quizzical look. I nodded my acquiescence, and he set it within the trunk with a soft thump. Then he closed the lid and cast a second spell at it. “But Sparky can’t unlock magical locks. It’s the only way to keep things safe from him!”

“Even if he’s trained to leave food alone?” I asked, smiling to myself.

“Ach, it’s his streak for trouble that I don’t trust! What’s to stop him from picking the lock while we’re asleep?” Thaurron laughed heartily, his eyes on the imp. To my surprise, Sparky smiled and imitated his master, his laughter a tinkling counterpoint to Thaurron’s deeper tone.

“Felen Relas will be glad of those hearts,” Gulitte offered. “I’m certain he’ll pay you well for them, too.”

I whistled to bring Sparky back to me. “It will be good to see him again.” The imp took the last apple slice from me. I moved to the bed and sat down.

“You must be tired,” Gulitte remarked. Again his brown eyes twinkled as he smiled. “Don’t worry, there are no musical beds here like there is at Skingrad!”

“Good,” I couldn’t stop the flush that spread across my cheeks. “But tell me, who is the chapter head?”

“Carahil, of course!” Gulitte responded. “She inherited the chapter house from Traven when he was elected Arch Mage a few years ago. She runs a clean house, just like he did.”

I stared at the Breton. “Hannibal Traven is the Arch Mage now?” I asked.

The two mages stared at me. “You didn’t know?” Thaurron asked.

“I’ve only heard the other mages speak of the new Arch Mage, but never by his name,” I shrugged.

“Where were you four years ago when he was elected?” Thaurron couldn’t believe it. “No, almost five years ago! Under a rock?”

I couldn’t hide my wince. “Something like that,” I admitted.

“Hush, Thaurron,” Gulitte made a shushing motion with his hands. He turned back to me. “Since you’ve been closing Oblivion Gates all over Cyrodiil, I hope you’ve been wined and dined by the good folks of Anvil tonight.”

I shook my head with a smile. “Just Varel Morvayn,” I answered.

“And is your brother still living here in Anvil?” Thaurron asked. “You mentioned he was apprenticed to the smith.”

“He died several years ago.” I pulled the coverlet down. “If you don’t mind -“

“Not at all!” Gulitte put his book down and lowered the flame on his lamp. “I’m off to bed, myself. Keep quiet, Thaurron!”