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]

@SubRosa: I’m glad you enjoyed that little scene between little Julian and a much younger Traven. I wanted to show a lighter side of him than what we see in-game. And yes, until I started writing this, Marc had the same name as the disposable razor, then it was a d’oh! Moment. Sparky was fun to write. I wanted to make more of him than just a pair of flapping wings. And yes, Marc probably stopped the night at Skingrad on his way out to his posting at Anvil.

@Acadian: Julian’s mother was the girly one, Julian herself was more tomboyish. Still, she has her moments. I remember writing that transition - it was an all-too-rare moment of genius, so thanks for noticing.

@Grits: Yes, those two lines you quoted are a nod of respect to one of my favorite couples, Lauren and Humphrey. They were so hot together. And just as dogs love to steal things off the kitchen counter (especially the Sunday roast), Sparky the imp loves to explore other people’s belongings.

@TK: I missed that part of lore, but I’m glad it worked out so well. I knew he had to have become Arch Mage recently as people are still talking about it. And Sparky’s not just an imp, he’s an imp!

@Cap’n H: Yes, I figured Traven made a big impression on Julian when she was little, since he had to have been chapter head at the time. Carahil is older, but for some reason she didn’t get it. Goes to show how cleverly manipulative Traven can be, and I think the MG questline only bears that out.

@Olen: Thanks for picking up on the fact that Anvil is Julian’s old stomping grounds and that she has a lot of history here. Yes, it was her second home, as we will see. And fingerling, I think refers to an immature fish (as well as tiny potatoes, TK is right), but it works for a baby imp IMHO.

Of all the folks in Anvil, I like Morvayn, Felen Relas, and Carahil the best. I think Morvayn and Relas are my two favorite Dunmer men in all of Cyrodiil. And I never could shake the feeling that Carahil’s brisk, efficient manner hides a heart of gold.

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Chapter 23.5 A Reunion with an Old Friend

Cup of steaming klah in hand, I wandered into the alchemy lab just off the lobby. It seemed little changed from my memories. I looked around, studying the furnishings and inhaling the mingled scents of the various ingredients.

Bergamot. Aloe vera. Thistle seeds. Horsetail kelp. Relas still keeps his shop organized the same way. I recognized the battered stool tucked away beneath the long work counter at the back of the room. Relas used to make me sit there, out of his way, while he worked at his alchemical equipment spread along the counter. I would read whatever book he gave me to occupy my time while I waited for him to finish his tasks.

From the time I could first walk down to Anvil with my mother, I had bonded with the aged Dunmer alchemist. Something about the way he regarded my questions with that air of seriousness always made me feel intelligent. While my mother traded her produce for essentials at the harborfront, Cieran and I would sit with Relas. Cieran always fidgeted, and eventually began spending time over in Morvayn’s smithy. But I adored Felen Relas with his quiet voice, his unflappable manner, and that pomaded brown hair that he sculpted into a peak like a conical hat.

“Hello, Master Relas!” I skipped into the workroom, a heavy volume in my arms. “Mother sent me to return this book,” I managed to lift it onto the counter. “She says thank you very much, it was very helpful!”

“Did you read it yourself, Julian?” Relas accepted the Fundaments of Alchemy and turned away to place it on his desk.

I toed the floor. “No, sir, I didn’t.” I bolted from the workroom, through the lobby into the sitting room on the other side. Master Wizard Traven’s puckish complaints about the sound of my little feet lent speed to my passing. I found the book Carahil had been reading resting on the side table. Making certain her ribbon still marked her place, I carried it back to Relas, sticking my tongue out at Traven as I passed him. “I want to read this!” I held the volume up to the alchemist.

“The Real Barenziah,” he read aloud. “I’m not certain your mother would want you reading that.”

“I want to read this one!” I insisted, clambering onto the stool next to the counter. I retrieved the book from him and opened it on the counter, leaning forward to look at the pages. “It’s about a princess and a king and a knight - Carahil told me!”

“But there are no pictures in this one,” Relas closed the book firmly, but not before I had a chance to be dismayed by the mass of text that filled the first page. “Would you prefer I tell you the story myself?”

“Would you, sir?” I clapped my hands.

“Once there was a beautiful princess named Barenziah -“ his voice took on a melodic quality as he told the story of a Dunmer princess who was orphaned at an early age, raised as a poor relation far from home in the far north of Skyrim, and eventually returned to Morrowind and reclaimed her inheritance as Queen. I listened, cheeks propped in my palms, with my eyes following him around the workroom as he continued his tasks beneath the story.

“Looking for Felen?” Carahil’s voice roused me out of my reverie. I turned to look at the beautiful Altmer. She was another member of the Anvil chapter that I considered my friend. She was the one who taught me the basic flare spell, though she once despaired of ever succeeding.

“Yes, I wanted to say hello to him,” I waved my hand around the empty room. “I have to be at the castle by seven bells, but I was hoping to catch him before I left.”

“You missed him,” Carahil shook her head regretfully. “He left at dawn this morning. His supplies have become low, since it has been too dangerous to venture out of the city with that Oblivion Gate. Felen is anxious to restock his shelves, but he hopes to see you when he gets back.”

“I understand,” I nodded. Carahil motioned for me to follow her. “Belated congratulations on your promotion, ma’am.”

“Come, Julian. Let’s sit a bit before it’s time for you to leave for your audience.”

We seated ourselves in the sitting room across the lobby from the alchemy shop. As I settled back in the comfortable chair, Carahil regarded me. “You know, Julian, I was surprised to learn that you had joined the Mages Guild, and furthermore, you were traveling for recommendations.”

“Who would have thought?” I asked, thinking of those days when I struggled to even generate a spark from my fingers. “But my years of training in the Legion has prepared me well for the discipline that mages require, it seems.”

“Tell me, what do you know?” Carahil steepled her fingers before her ageless face.

I started off with the spells I had learned since leaving the prison sewers. I told Carahil of my experimentation with the alchemy equipment in my humble Waterfront shack. Then I described how I had integrated magicka usage with my combat techniques. She seemed very interested in what I had learned of the Deadlands and of the strengths and weaknesses of the various daedra I had encountered.

When I mentioned my thoughts about the sigil stones and their varying strengths, she leaned forward with intense interest. “Really? The stone from the one you closed immediately after it opened felt the weakest of them all?”

I nodded. “When I think about it, there weren’t as many corpses in there, either. But Skingrad and Anvil were the worst ones for the butchery I saw in there.”

“The one here has been open for a month,” Carahil mused. After a moment’s thought, her eyes brightened suddenly. “Something just occurred to me. Excuse me a moment, I’ll go check something in the library.”

As she disappeared upstairs, I leaned back and enjoyed the klah. Breakfast had been a do-it-yourself affair, but I had easily satisfied my early morning pangs with a bowl of mixed fruit, a few thick slices of cheese and a chunk of bread. Too bad there aren’t any bakers like Salmo here in Anvil. Those sweet rolls are outrageous! Again I saw Vigge the Cautious in his strained finery. Then again, maybe it’s a good thing. That’s a temptation I don’t want to struggle with.

I set my mug down on the small table next to my chair. My gaze fell onto a somewhat familiar green covered book. The Lusty Argonian Maid? Sounds like nighttime reading. Idly I picked it up and flipped through the pages. A phrase caught my eye: Here, polish my spear.

“Julian! What book is that?” The tall Altmer swept across the library in a swirl of burgundy and gold fabric and bent down to me. Before I could meet her gaze she had plucked the book out of my hands. “Oh, dear! If your mother were to find out -“ She turned from me and placed the volume with the green cover on the highest shelf of the bookcase behind me - impossibly high for me to reach. She turned back to me and took a deep breath, smoothing back her strawberry-blond bangs. “My dear child,” she knelt down beside my chair. “There are some books you must not read. That’s one of them. If your mother finds out you were reading such books here, she will forbid you to come here ever again. Is that understood?”

“You mean, never to see Master Relas again?” I asked. “Or Master Traven? Or -“ I swallowed, holding her green eyes with my own, “- you ever again?”

Solemnly Carahil nodded. “Yes, your mother has the right. At least until you turn eighteen, that is.” Her eyes sparkled with sudden humor. “By then, it won’t matter if you get caught reading that book anyway!”

I frowned, puzzled. Carahil patted my small hand. “Don’t worry about it, Julian. By the time you’re eighteen, you’ll understand.”

“But that’s -“ I paused to count on my fingers. I had to count the fingers of my left hand twice. “- that’s twelve years away!”

“Only twelve years?” Carahil repeated. “Posh! You’ll be eighteen before you know it!”

“But I don’t understand why I can’t read that book,” I would not give up. “All it’s about is a girl polishing some old man’s spear!”

Carahil’s golden skin suffused a startling color as she choked, coughed and spluttered into a long-fingered hand. Finally she was able to take another deep breath, fanning herself with her other hand. “Julian, dear, you are still too young to understand the real meaning of that book.” She sighed. “But the day will come when you will understand all too well.”

Laughter spilled through my nose before I could stop myself. Yes, I understand all too well now.

“What is so funny, Julian?” Carahil asked, returning with a thick volume in her hands. I showed her the green book. Her eyes widened as she read the title.

“I completely forgot about this book,” I explained between chuckles. “I’d say I’ve understood it for thirty years at least, but I’d completely forgotten about the book!”

Carahil’s eyes brightened, and her chuckle told me she had recalled the same conversation I had. “So now you know about spear polishing, do you understand why I was so scandalized to catch you with that book? All of six years old and you were reading smut!”

I laughed. “Only I didn’t know it was smut!” I defended myself. “And by the time I reached eighteen, I had forgotten about it.”

“Of course, by the time you were eighteen -“ Carahil’s smile faded. “You had other things on your mind,” she finished sadly.

My mother. My brother. Jared. I nodded silently.

Carahil held up the book in her hands. “You may be on to something, Julian. Have you ever read this book?”

I squinted at the title. “Spirit of the Daedra?” I considered it for a moment, then shook my head. “No, Carahil, that was one of the books you kept on the top shelf in the library. The same shelf as this,” I held up The Lusty Argonian Maid.

“Ah, yes, it was not considered suitable material for a six-year old child,” Carahil nodded at the memory. “Anyway, in this book, it discusses how the daedra are not truly killed when you destroy their physical manifestation.”

“Really?” I leaned forward as Carahil sat down in the chair she had previously occupied.

“Hmm hmm. ‘We do not die. We do not fear death. Destroy the Body, and the Animus is cast into The Darkness. But the Animus returns.’” She met my gaze. “It makes me wonder if mortal souls travel the same path, but are somehow trapped in these sigil stones to provide the magical energy needed to keep the portals open.”

“Kind of like soul gems?” I asked.

“Maybe,” Carahil shrugged. “There are so much we don’t understand about Oblivion. But these observations of yours are very interesting.”

“Thanks, Carahil,” I drained the last of the klah. “I need to leave for the Countess’s audience. But I’ll be back afterwards to discuss the recommendation with you.” I looked down at the simple linens I wore. “Are these suitable for meeting the Countess?”

“Oh, Julian!” Carahil smiled as she took my empty cup from me. “Countess Umbranox is very practical. She won’t expect you to be dressed in gaudy silks!” She waved me away. “Now shoo!”