@Olen: Yes, I assure you, all the conformation traits Julian spotted in Blanco are desirable, especially in a saddle horse. As for ‘study’ vs. ‘studying’, it may be a Midwestern dialect here. We often complain that we’ve ‘got so much studying to do to pass this course!’ So that’s what I went with.
@TK: I would normally not write a sentence like the one you pointed out, but as many people in conversation don’t edit themselves, and this is part of Carahil’s dialogue, I decided to leave it be. And I’m a bit envious of Clesa too. That Blanco is something else! I actually modeled his behavior after a Morgan stallion I knew that was full of mischief.
@SubRosa: I’m not really certain that Gweden Farm is actually haunted the way Benirus Manor is. I think it’s called ‘haunted’ mainly because of the deaths that occurred there thirty years ago. I’m glad you enjoyed Blanco too.
@Cap’n H: Why do I have Robert Duvall taking a deep breath and exclaiming “God! I love the smell of napalm in the morning!” going through my head since reading your comment? As for Benirus Manor, it’s just not Julian’s style.
@Acadian: I agree that this recommendation is the only one with the Guild’s welfare in mind, not the personal tush of the chapter head involved. And you might win that bet!
@Grits: I stand with you in your disappointment in being unable to go back into that house. That alone is one reason I’m considering installing a second hard drive in my Intel Mac, putting Windows 7 on it, and buying the PC version of the game. I’d love to be able to tinker with Gweden Farm and make it Julian’s farm! Restorations will have to wait, though. Julian’s got to save Nirn and get an education, in that order, first! As for Blanco, I don’t think you’re so far off the mark there --
@mALX: Ah, no.
I really struggled with this quest. After all, according to the script, success hinges on the PC being anonymous to other members of the Mages Guild. Yet Julian has quite the reputation by now. How can she maintain anonymity with that white hair, height and grey-green eyes? I ended up borrowing a little from Robert Ludlum, John LeCarre, et. al.
******************************
Chapter 23.8: Brina Cross Inn“Hail, Hero of Kvatch!” The barkeep greeted me when I entered. I nodded sheepishly at him and scanned the common room. A Breton woman and an Imperial man sat together at a table near the counter, murmuring softly between themselves. An aged Altmer woman, resplendent in blue velvet, turned from holding her hands over the fire to regard me. Next to her, I recognized Pollus seated by the fire and nursing a tankard of ale.
The Breton woman looked up from her conversation, then nodded at her companion. She stood up and approached me. “Hello, friend!” she greeted me. Though her voice was light and airy, and her youthful face seemed welcoming enough, I caught the hard look of a warrior in her brown eyes.
Arielle Jurard? “I take it you are Julian of Anvil?”
“Yes, ma’am, I am,” I responded. She leaned slightly toward me and whispered, “Carahil sent you, didn’t she?” She saw something in my gaze and straightened up. “I’m glad you’re here, Julian!” She resumed her normal voice. “We’ve been in need of an escort. Are you headed east along the road by any chance?”
Arielle Jurard. She’s trying to tell me something. I decided to play along. “Yes, ma’am.”
“We’d like to pay you to accompany us as far as Skingrad,” the Breton woman continued, as the Imperial man joined her to stand before me. “I’m Arielle Jurard, and this is my partner Roliand Hanus. We’re merchants with gems intended for the Skingrad court.”
“We’re prepared to pay you five septims for your work,” Hanus volunteered.
“When do you wish to leave?” I asked, still playing along.
Undercover? As myself? Unless I change my hair color, it’s now impossible to go unrecognized.“In the morning, an hour past dawn,” Jurard responded. “Will you escort us?”
“Yes, I will,” I answered. Jurard smiled brightly, but that hard edge still remained in her eyes.
“Excellent! Rent a room from Christophe tonight, get some rest! We’ll pay for your dinner and drinks if you’ll join us!”
“Let me get the room first,” I said. “I’ll be with you in a moment.” As the pair returned to their seats, I caught the assessing regard from the Altmer woman. Pollus regarded me thoughtfully over his tankard. I nodded once at him in greeting, surreptitiously sending the military signal to hold position. His eyes returned to his ale in acknowledgement.
Christophe smiled at me when I approached the bar. “What will you have, friend? Food? Drink? A bed for the night?”
“Whatever’s on the fire for dinner,” I answered, “anything hot to drink that’s not alcoholic, and a bed.”
“That’ll be thirteen drakes,” Christophe said. I counted out the coins and laid them on the counter between us.
He swept them off into his hand and pocketed the money. “Terrific!” he turned for the big soup pot simmering behind him. “It’s ham stew with peas and carrots,” he continued over his shoulder as he ladled something steaming into a wooden bowl. “And would hot spiced cider be good for you? Otherwise I’ve got klah.”
“Cider’s fine,” I accepted the bowl and pewter spoon from Christophe. He wiped a pewter tumbler with a towel and set it on the counter before me.
“You’re going to escort those two merchants?” he asked as he poured the cider. I nodded. “We used to get a lot of merchants through here, but that was before the deaths started occurring. And when those two Oblivion Gates opened, I’ve hardly had any business at all!”
“Deaths?” I repeated when he set the pitcher down.
Christophe straightened up. “I don’t like to talk about them, it’s bad for business.” He placed a key next to the bowl. “Here’s your room key. It’s upstairs, last door on the right.”
“Thank you, sir,” I pocketed the key and collected the meal. The Altmer woman slowly and gingerly approached the table as I joined my new comrades.
“Did I hear you’re merchants?” she asked Jurard. “On the way to Skingrad?”
“Now we are!” Jurard’s voice took on a brittle brightness. “Now that we have a proper escort!” I glanced at her as I took the first mouthful of stew.
I’m a proper escort? Why do I get the feeling that it’s going to be you protecting me, rather than the other way around? “Aren’t you worried?” the Altmer asked, sliding a cool glance at me. My right hand twitched with longing to reach for
Daedra Slayer at my hip, but I kept it on the table.
Easy Julian, she’s just an old woman. “I’d be scared, if I were you,” she continued, her gaze flickering at Hanus before returning to Jurard. “What with all the recent deaths lately, I’ve been too terrified to leave the inn!”
“That’s why we waited for an escort,” Jurard nodded pleasantly at me. “I’m certain the Hero of Kvatch will be more than a match for what awaits us down the road!”
The stooping woman turned to me. “Do you know magic, Hero of Kvatch?”
“Julian of Anvil, and I know little restoration,” I chose to ignore the sarcasm I could hear in her voice. “I’ve always relied on my Legion training. It’s gotten me this far, ma’am.”
“Well, let’s hope it continues to serve you well, Hero!” the Altmer’s concern rang false. “I hear those killings have not been by blade or bow, but rather by magic!”
“Like half the daedra I’ve faced in the Deadlands,” I mumbled to myself. The Altmer drew in her breath sharply, then smiled broadly, her deeply lined face crinkling further.
“You’re right, of course! Well, it’s late, and I’m off to bed. Take care, all of you,” she included Jurard and Hanus in her well-wishes. “I’d hate to hear of more senseless deaths!” She turned and walked with care toward the stairs that led past the entry to the second floor.
“That’s Caminalda,” Jurard said to me. “She’s been staying here for the last several weeks. Typical stuck up Altmer.”
“I’ve met more
nice Altmeri than stuck up ones,” I remarked, glancing over my shoulder to see the last vestige of blue velvet disappear around the corner. “But Caminalda certainly fits the stereotype.”
Hanus chuckled into his tumbler. “You got that right, ma’am,” he mumbled.
“Did you get the room?” Jurard asked. I nodded silently. She laid a few coins on the table and pushed them across to me. “That’s for the food and drink, as well as the room. Do you have a map?” Now she lowered her voice. “When Carahil sent a message that she had someone coming to aid us, someone new to the guild, we thought we could have that person masquerade as a merchant, and we would ambush the mage. But since it’s you -“
“You’re too recognizable,” Hanus added softly as I drew my map from my belt pouch. “No one would believe it if you claimed to be a merchant.”
“I’m sorry,” we put our heads together over the map in an appearance of consulting on the route for the morrow. “But it seems to me that you made a rather effective change of plans. Any idea who the mage might be?”
Jurard shook her head. “It could be anyone from that Legion soldier,” she nodded at Pollus still nursing his ale next to the fire, “to Christophe, even the stableboy!” She regarded me thoughtfully. “But with you as escort, we can still ambush him.”
“You might be escorting me instead of the other way around!” I whispered softly into my stew. Jurard chuckled, that hard edge in her eyes softening a little.
“You didn’t join the Mages Guild for a joke, I don’t think,” she responded softly. “I’ve heard stories of your summons. I believe you can now call up a flame atronach?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I matched her quiet tone. “She’s saved my keister more than a few times.” I shook my head. “But I’m still slow to cast spells. It’s not second nature to me yet, not like my blade is.”
“Then it should be good practice for you tomorrow,” Jurard smiled at me. “And I believe that’s a fire enchantment on that blade of yours?”
“Yes, ma’am, it is,” I nodded. “It should give me the slightest edge against that mage.”
“Don’t underestimate the effectiveness of an enchanted weapon,” Hanus advised me.
“Well, that’s it for now,” Jurard leaned back, resuming a normal tone. “We’ll start out an hour after dawn tomorrow. Till then, sleep well!”
“Thanks,” I replied as the pair rose from the table and headed away. As they disappeared upstairs, Pollus rose ponderously from his seat and walked over to me with a soft clanking of his plate.
“Hello, Julian,” he greeted me quietly. “I see you’re working.”
“A job for the Mages Guild,” I answered. “More than that I can’t say. Sorry.” I waved at the seat just vacated by Hanus. “But I thought you were going to return to your patrol?”
“Soon,” he nodded. “My captain wants me to hang around until that rogue mage has been caught.” His gaze sharpened on me. “I presume it’s not you, Julian.”
I smiled and shook my head. “I’m certain it’s not you, either, Pollus.”