Light through Darkness, You asked for it, so here you go. Options

[Thomas Kaira]

It's getting close to Christmas, and I'll be away on Holiday to New York for a few days, so I decided to post this now so that you know I am at work. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Black and White

The suffocating darkness was broken only by the soft blue glows of unnaturally luminescent crystals. The high vaulted ceilings may have leant a feeling of grandeur before, but now felt strangely claustrophobic, as if the walls would close in and crush you at any moment. I was gliding softly through the blackness, guided only by the winking blue lights, following them through what seemed a maze of corridors and passageways.

Suddenly, the walls opened, and in front of me stood a grand chamber, it would have been spectacular had it not been so sinister. The entire chamber was bathed in red light, and strange, black figures were moving about, neither knowing nor caring where their feet carried them. In the center stood a high raised platform, and there another figure stood, emblazoned in armor that seemed sucked the light in from around him, and I was moving towards him. Try as I might, I could not fight the savage need to know whom this man was. I wanted to cry out, scream for help, but my tongue had become iron.

Closer…closer…ever closer I inched, feeling the icy metal flood to my limbs. The figure turned to face me, his eyes glowed a fiery red…


----



Ice cold sweat drenched my face as my head soared from my pillow, my breathing shallow and ragged. Feeling something in my hand, I looked down to see my steel dagger in my hand… how did it get there? Did I pull it out of my pack in my slumber?

I dropped the dagger to the floor, returning my head to the pillow. All a dream, I thought, just a dream, another dream. Calm down Derelas, it’s nothing to worry about. Old news.


----


The Imperial City was only half a day’s journey from Wawnet Inn, as the publican told me over breakfast. Just follow the high street out of town to the Great West Bridge over Lake Rumare, and follow the road from there straight to the gates. It was a lovely clear day outside, and the bridge was not hard to find when I left, the white marble spires framing the road practically burned new holes in my eyes.

The morning bustle was only just beginning as I made my way forth. A balding fisherman was making his way home with his morning catch of some of the biggest Slaughterfish I’ve ever seen. Many of the travelers who slept the night here were gathering their horses and pack mules to continue on to wherever it was they were going. Many others still were filing into the small stores nearby. It was a simple, yet elegant, vista of pastoral harmony.

Forcing my eyes away from the scene, I directed my feet toward the Great Blinding Bridge and made a silent note to thank Y’ffre if I could still see after crossing.

The bridge led to a switchback road up the steep incline of the Imperial Isle, many rocks blocking my view of the city proper. It was just after midday when I finally crested the hill. I was greeted with… more whitewashed walls. It might have been an awe-inspiring sight had I been able to see anything at all, but I ended up having to walk the whole rest of the way with my arm up shielding my eyes because of how brightly polished the marble was. I know this city is supposed to be the shining beacon of the Empire and all, but wow... you think you might be taking this a bit too far? I was quite thankful to finally reach the gates proper, just to be able to see again.

Once I closed distance with the walls, though, the blinding marble gave way to gray granite. Still not to be outdone, the stone was impeccably carved and rose into an imposing Gothic archway housing a raised portcullis and a well-polished bronze gate flanked by two men in flashy steel armor, flaming red feather plumes rising from their helmets… Imperial Legion Centurions.

“Welcome to Cyrodiil City.” One of them voiced to me. They then marched in unison to the great bronze doors and threw them open with an impressive flourish. “Enjoy your stay, citizen.”

I passed through the gates to a scene unlike I’d ever seen before. Instead of the peaceful maritime bustle of Weye, here it was an outright cacophony of voices, footsteps, shrieks, and hoof beats as people large and small jostled this way and that about their daily lives. The huge crowd, from the super-rich in fine linens to the street urchins with no more than stained sack cloth, pattered every which way you could think of past white marble buildings so tall they seemed to wall away the sky. Such a dizzying sight made me begin to wonder if I could ever find the Arcane at all, so I ducked into a shaded back street to pull out my map.

“Looking for something, citizen?” A passing legionary inquired.

“Yes, I’m looking for the Arcane University.” I responded, hoping this guy might be able to make some sense out of this madhouse.

“You’re in Talos Plaza," the legionary told me, indicating a gold sign nearby:

“Talos Plaza. IMPERIVM AD VITAM AETERNAM”

“Just follow Septim Way through Talos Plaza, take a right on Green Emperor Way, follow it around until you reach Stendarr Loop, and it will take you straight to the University.”

Follow who-da, take a right on what-da until I reach where-da? Thankfully, the guard noticed my blank look and handed me a new map, this time of the city itself, and noted everything he told me on it.

“Thanks.”

“We’re here to serve.” The guard brought two fingers to his helmet in salute before clanking away. I started to wonder why guards weren’t this helpful all the time, given my experience at the customs office on my way in from Valenwood, but soon did a double take. This was the Imperial City, after all. The Empire does have an image to maintain.

It took another hour just to find Green Emperor Way. I got lost twice in the crowds and at one point found myself filing my way down Septim Ave. rather than Septim Way, causing me to mumble curses under my breath for the Empire’s shameless lack of originality as I turned back. I eventually fought my way through the chaos of Talos Plaza, and the astounding noise of the crowd died instantly as I crossed the threshold of Green Emperor Way, giving way to a subdued, formal silence, and I felt a strange, liquid-like sensation pass over my skin, probably a spell to help keep the noise out.

“Please show your respect for the Imperial Palace by keeping your voice down.” A guard in blazing white armor decorated with dragons told me as I entered, and I joined the now near-silent crowd making their way along the road. Most of the time my view of White Gold Tower was blocked by the many high-rising buildings, mostly fine hotels and apartments for the city’s wealthiest citizens surrounding the Palace Road, but every so often I would pass a colossal iron gate barring the way to the Palace proper, and was able to steal a glance of the immense structure beyond the veil. It seemed to rise forever towards the heavens, perhaps ascending to touch the face of Aetherius itself, the marble walls were so well polished and maintained it was no wonder I was blinded on my way in, and almost completely blocked by the rest of the city, I could make out the royal graves. Such a sight, already breathtaking from here, must inspire awe when seen from outside the walls; a way of saying: “We are the most powerful society in this land today. To challenge us is to challenge the will of the Nine themselves.”

I felt myself smiling faintly as I turned onto Stendarr Loop.


----


Two shrouded figures crested a flight of stairs bathed in crimson light, where another shadowy figure sat upon a throne of black stone signaled them halt. They obeyed, and then sunk into a low bow.

“What news?” His voice rang with command as he spoke.

“Derelas just arrived yesterday.”

“And now?”

“He left for the Imperial City this morning.”

The cloaked man frowned, this might complicate things a bit; our kind is not welcome there. But no matter, he won’t stay forever.

“What else did you discover?”

“He’s searching for them, and he wants the Mages Guild’s help.”

Mages Guild? The shadowed man smiled, his red eyes lit aflame with amusement at the very idea. The Mages were fools. They had no idea what they were allowing to happen under their very noses. To think they could keep us at bay locked away like dogs. They would be in for a rude awakening, and soon.

“Good. Keep an eye on him. I want to know the instant he leaves.”

“As you wish, Lord.”

The two shrouded figures bowed again, then turned to leave themselves. The red-eyed man smiled to himself. Soon the pieces would be in place. The 433rd Year of the Third Era would soon become forever etched in history.

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Dec 31 2010, 06:44 AM

[Thomas Kaira]

@SubRosa: Quick, we need Lassie... err... Chevy! That section was rather unintentionally well timed.
Nits picked.

@mALX: I pride myself in noticing the little things others tend to miss. Like, for example, how insanely difficult it would have been for your character in-game to get out of that well thanks to that ring. Who needs ladders when we have such technology as load-screen teleportation?

@King Coin:Take your time and enjoy yourself. Glad to see you jumping in.

@Acadian: That was not a fine in that sense, but a fine in that other sense. You know, the sense where fine would not work, but at the same time sorta work... Ahh, who cares. It stays!
The name, however, is changed. It is not the first and certainly won't be the last Elder Scrolls name I mess up.

@all: I think it's about time we refer back to that hungry beast known as plot. This chapter will hopefully add a bit of perspective on the significance of Falcar's work in Cheydinhal.

next:We pay a visit to Guilbert, and sit down to a nice dinner with our Cheydinhal guildmates.

Chapter 3-4: The Last Supper…

Well wasn’t that a waste of time, the drawers were completely bare inside, not even a speck of dust as far as I could tell. Falcar must’ve cleared them out before he left. I’ll give him this one, he’s sneaky, alright, and intelligent. Well, no use worrying about this any longer, I thought to myself, tossing the key aside. Just another worthless red herring. I returned to gathering up what was left of Falcar’s clothing to move it to the communal wardrobe upstairs.




----




“Derelas, could I have a quick chat?”

I turned away from hanging up the clothing I brought from the basement to see Trayvond standing behind me, a book wedged under one arm and a soft smile upon his face.

“Sure,” I replied, shutting the closet door and moving to sit at a small table in the middle of the room with a small bowl of fruit in the center. Trayvond followed me.

“I just wanted to thank you for helping to get rid of Falcar,” Trayvond told me once he had found a comfortable seat. “He was a most unpleasant magister, as you have no doubt witnessed.”

“I’m sure, I only knew him for five minutes and I utterly despise him,” I returned. “I take it he liked to bully people around a lot?”

“Particularly the newbies,” Trayvond explained, frowning, “it was especially hard for me to put up with him. I didn’t come all the way from Hammerfell to be held back by some stuck-up fetcher who doesn’t give a cliffracer’s beak about his subordinates.”

“Sounds like I, well, me and Deetsan that is, did you a favor, then?” I wondered, reaching for a strawberry from the bowl in the center of the table.

“Very much so,” Trayvond replied. “He must’ve been pulling a Telvanni, because he wouldn’t even let me speak to him. That means no recommendations… and therefore no future,” he concluded bitterly, helping himself to a small bunch of comberries.

“Really, why?” I inquired, pulling out a strange, pointy leaf and examining it.

“Probably because my people tend to look down on magic users,” He answered, popping one of the small, red berries into his mouth, “We see it as an affront to life, tampering with others’ minds and stealing souls. A Redguard wizard is more often than not considered weak or wicked back in Hammerfell.”

“So that’s why you traveled to Cyrodiil,” I finished, returning the odd leaf to the bowl.

“Yup, the mages guild doesn’t have that much influence back home in Dragonstar, so here I am,” he placed another berry into his mouth before continuing. “I’ll admit, I’m not very partial to practitioners of Conjuration and Illusion. Age old prejudices die hard, I guess.”

My heart sank, my only real magical skill lay in Illusion. I decided to nip this bud early so it wouldn’t come back to haunt me later.

“Well, that’s a shame, Illusion is my preferred magic,” I told him, hoping he wouldn’t think any less of me for it.

“Well, then just don’t use your hocus-pocus to suggest I start dancing around the town square in a tutu and we won’t have any problems,” he informed me with a smirk.

“Anyways, what have you been doing around here?” I asked once I finished laughing. “You must’ve kept yourself busy somehow, why not leave if Falcar was so unreasonable?”

“Well, mostly because Alteration is my preference and Orintur has been giving me some private tutoring,” Trayvond responded. “He’s been helping me work on my shield spells, and I’m getting pretty good at them now. Alteration is the focus of this hall, after all; I didn’t want to leave until I was sure there was nothing left for me here.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be on your way soon,” I replied, rising from my seat. “Now that Falcar is gone, you can finally finish what you started here.”

“And I very well plan on it,” Trayvond added, downing the last comberry. “Say, will you be staying for dinner? I’m sure the rest of the guild will want to meet the man who saved them from a lifetime of misery.”

“That sounds lovely,” I told him, “but I have a couple things to do around town first. Erm… you wouldn’t happen to know anyone with the last name of Jemane now, would you?”

“Hmm…” Trayvond brought a hand to his mouth and began to rub it in thought. After a few seconds, he looked back to me. “Well, there’s a Guilbert Jemane around these parts. I’d imagine you could find him over at Newland’s Lodge. Why, do want to see him?”

“Very much so,” I answered, turning towards the stairs. “I’ll be back soon, thanks for the help.”




----




“Yes, I am him, can I help you with anything?”

Guilbert Jemane greeted me warmly upon my approach. Six bells had rung from the city chapel as I made my way through the city, signaling dinner. Guilbert was seated at a small table eating from what I could only describe to be a giant egg with a very thick shell. How he was even going to go about such a feat eluded me completely. I made a quick note to ask about it when I returned to the guild.

“Well met, Guilbert,” I replied, giving him a quick nod, “I don’t want to take up too much of your time so I’ll try to be brief. Does the name ‘Reynald Jemane’ mean anything to…”

“Wait,” Guilbert cut me off, shock spreading across his youthful face, “Say that name again.”

“Reynald Jemane,” I repeated, “I met him in Chorrol.”

“You met him?” Guilbert inquired, voice filled with amazement and perhaps joy, “you mean… he’s alive?!”

I noticed my knees suddenly seemed less willing to support me. Whatever I was expecting as a response from him, it was not that. Guilbert thought he was dead? He seemed right as rain when I saw him… well… in his own special way, I guess. What might have happened between them to bring Guilbert to that conclusion?

“I can’t believe it; I was told my mother and brother never survived!” Guilbert ecstatically continued, “This is incredible! Where did you say you saw him? Chorrol?”

“Umm… yes.” I bemusedly replied, still trying to steady my suddenly rapidly beating heart, “Yes… in Chorrol. Are you… are you going to go see him?”

“I’ll leave first thing tomorrow,” Guilbert answered, abandoning his giant eggy dinner, “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me to tell me that friend! Excuse me, I have to pack my things.”

Guilbert then hurried upstairs, leaving a most confused Bosmer in his wake.




----




“And so he just ran off… zoom. I still don’t understand half of it.”

It was now dinner time at the Cheydinhal chapter, and I had just finished telling the table about what had happened with Guilbert Jemane. They had all given pause when I told them about how he thought Reynald was dead, but they were quickly recovering.

“Very strange,” Eilonwy slowly replied, helping herself to a bowl of cheddar grits, “I wonder what might’ve happened to make him think that?”

“Giants, maybe?” Orintur chimed in beside Eilonwy. He was eating one of those same eggs Guilbert was; Kwama eggs, he said they were. Off-white and roughly five times the size of a chicken egg, he had used a special knife with its point tapered forward to cut a small portion of the shell off. He then picked up a soup spoon and scrambled around whatever was inside. The result was… well… some kind of gelatinous, muted red goo. It looked utterly disgusting, but seeing the way he savored every bite, I thought I’d reserve judgment on those things. “Or perhaps ogres?” He added, “if they lived in the wilderness, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Might’ve been Daedra,” Trayvond quipped, causing everyone at the table to stare at him with eyebrows raised.

“What?” He exclaimed, “It’s not that far-fetched anymore. The Septim bloodline was the only thing sustaining the Aedric Compact. Without the dragonfires, Mundus is just begging to become a hunting ground. I’m surprised we haven’t been attacked already!”

“You and your conspiracy theories, Trayvond…” Eilonwy responded, lightly shaking her head. “If even half of them came true, Mundus would be a flaming ball of nothing by now.”

“I’m just trying to be plain,” Trayvond countered, raising his hands in mock surrender, “it wouldn't be completely unexpected for something like this to happen now.”

“Then let’s be glad it hasn’t,” Deetsan proclaimed, bringing a piece of beef to her mouth. “We’re in for hard enough times already. Skyrim’s already rattling their sabers, in fact. They’re threatening secession if a new Emperor can’t be crowned soon. I’d imagine things are pretty tense up in Bruma right now.”

“Well, then maybe I’ll have to leave them for later,” I commented.

“You never said you were leaving so soon,” Deetsan exclaimed, setting her fork down with a light clatter, “You’ve only just arrived. Why not stay here for a couple days and rest?”

“I never said I was leaving tomorrow,” I answered, “I really do need some rest from traveling… and I do need to give my back a break after lugging that ring around all day.”

“Speaking of that ring,” Orintur intersected, raising another bite of strange egg-soup to his mouth, “we need to do something about it. We can’t just leave it laying on the floor. Knowing how heavy it is, someone could trip over it… or slip on it.”

“We could probably just throw it back in the well,” I replied, raising a forkful of mashed potato to my mouth.

“Well, let’s not worry about that until tomorrow,” Deetsan injected, “but if you are so willing, Orintur, why don’t you do it?”

“Why me?” He indignantly asked, his eyebrows arisen in surprise, “You know I don’t have the strength to carry it!”

“Are you not an expert in Alteration?” Deetsan coolly replied, “just feather the ring; shouldn’t be too hard to carry then.”

Orintur’s golden skin became tinged with pink as he silently turned back to his dinner.

“Anyways, thank you again for your help today, Derelas,” Deetsan continued, turning back to me. “It has been a long time since we’ve been able to have a pleasant conversation here.”

“Hear hear,” Eilonwy added her approval, sending a smile my way.

“You’re welcome,” I replied, scooping the last of my own piece of beef of my plate. “I think I’ll take some leisure tomorrow, maybe get to know everyone here a little better, but I do want to finish off these recommendations before Spring term starts.”

“I understand,” Deetsan told me as I set my fork down and rose from the table, “If I may, I would recommend you go to Bravil next. The magister there, Kud-Ei, is a good friend of mine, and very reasonable… well… so long as you don’t make life difficult for her girls.”

“Then I’m sure she’ll be pleased to hear I helped you out of a rather tight squeeze, then,” I replied with a grin, and getting a light chuckle in response.

“Yes, I’m sure she will,” she said, returning my grin.

“Anyways, it’s been a busy day for me, so I think I’ll bed down early,” I finished, bidding the table good night. They chimed their chorus alike as I made my way upstairs to find a spare bed.




----




“I trust you didn’t leave anything incriminating behind,” the red-eyed figure said, his face masked in shadow by his light-eating cloak.

“Pocketed what I could, vanished the rest,” the Altmer replied, holding out two gems, one darker than Oblivion itself, the other glowing with a light to match the hooded figure’s eyes. “Your ring did its job, by the way.”

“Shame you couldn’t obtain the second,” the red-eyed man commented, pocketing the gems, the gleam in his eyes intensifying as anger boiled through his blood.

“He had a few tricks up his sleeve. It is lucky that I planned ahead, you know, otherwise the gems might be in his possession now. Or worse,” he then added, “the Council’s.”

“I did tell you not to break the bow on him, you know,” the bite of anger in the red-eyed man’s voice lashed through the air like a whipcrack, snapping the Altmer’s tongue to his teeth. “His life was not yours to take, and you should have waited on another. Why not that Redguard? You know very well they can’t magic their way out of a paper sack!”

“Apologies, master,” the Altmer immediately sank to one knee in a deep bow of repentance, “I have done wrong.”

“You did do better than I would expect of most, however, so I will spare you from the blood halls… for now,” the man the Altmer called Master then added, his voice changing to that of joy as he began toying with the glowing red crystal. “I did not expect this ploy to bear as much fruit as it has. I assume all of our puppets are in place?”

“Of course,” the Altmer replied, relief spreading throughout his face as he rose back to his feet, “Everyone you wanted is ready and waiting.”

“Good,” the cloaked man answered, “That is all, Falcar.”

The cloaked man turned away from the Altmer scurrying off into the darkness, and brought his eyes to a nearby chessboard, which was set for a game. He slowly reached out with a long-fingered hand, grasped a Bosmer-shaped pawn, and moved it forward two squares.

“White moves first…” he quietly muttered to himself, returning to his throne, his hand then came to grasp a small scroll on the armrest, and he squeezed it gently.

“Your play, Dagon.”

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Feb 13 2011, 07:57 AM