Old Habits Die Hard Part Six, some old habits never die Options

[haute ecole rider]

Hello all, and welcome to the final thread of Old Habits Die Hard. Those of you who are familiar with the Main Quest know that we are fast approaching the end game. Only three more artifacts to obtain, then we can recover the Amulet of Kings and light those Dragonfires and see Martin to the Dragon Throne at last. Right?

For those who are coming late to the party, here are the links to the other five threads:

Chapters 1 − 7: From the Prison to finding the Path of Dawn.
Chapters 8 − 13: From Dagon’s Shrine to Bravil.
Chapters 14 − 18: From Sheogorath’s Shrine to the start of the Grand Tour of Cyrodiil.
Chapters 19 − 22: From Leyawiin to Skingrad.
Chapters 23 − 25: From returning home to Anvil to the final Mages Guild recommendation.

Here in this last thread we will see the Main Quest through to its tragic conclusion. Some questions will be answered, including who is the man Julian loves? Other questions will be raised, including what’s next for Julian? Those of you who have suspected a second story in the making, you are correct.

After a year and a half of writing this story, I am happy to bring this to a close, yet I am sad to bid it adieu. Hopefully I won’t let any and all of you down as we wrap up.

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Jun 26 2011, 01:10 AM

[haute ecole rider]

@Acadian: Thanks for picking up Julian's feelings about her adventure in Sancre Tor. It turned out to be more than a 'fetch' quest, didn't it? I think the emotional effects will continue rippling far into the future. Oh, and thanks for the nits. The paragraph spacing was driving me nuts! I C&P from Word on my W7 partition, and it kept messing up the formatting. It's set to single spacing with no automatic spaces between paragraphs, and the forum editor still kept putting extra lines in. And there is no rhyme or reason to all that as far as I can see. So I'm back to posting from the Mac partition.

@SubRosa: I'm not sure that Julian's future is at Cloud Ruler, given what happens after the end of the MQ. But it is a special place. It reminds her of her time as a tiro in the Legion, when home was wherever her comrades were bunked. Only CRT is far more comfortable and luxurious compared to any Legion castrum! Again, thanks for the nits - I missed the first one, and the second is actually a single paragraph. Looks like the hungry horse ate one and shat the other!

@Olen: Thanks for your ongoing endorsement of the equine bits. I really enjoy writing the animal parts, and am looking forward to doing more of them. I can't remember who said it about Paint, but the comment that he is a character in his own right has stuck with me, and I see no reason for other animals to do the same in this story. It's not the first time an animal has claimed a spot on the character list in my stories, and it will not be the last. I'm glad you enjoyed the homecoming, as well.

@Grits: Know what's funny? This is the first time I've gone through the Applewatch area in this particular game, and the two guys hadn't yet encountered each other. I read a very humorous thread on the Unnamed Forum a year or so ago about that. People were coming up with some wild ideas about why the two Foresters are always beating on each other. My favorite is that they were fighting over some hussy in Olaf's Tap and Tavern. And with two votes for WitchHorse of the Western Reach, it seems Blanco now has a unique identity beyond his personality. And no, it's not a good time to schedule a vacation!

The story so far: Julian has reported to Martin and Grandmaster Jauffre after her successful Grand Circuit and foray into the haunted Sancre Tor. She is looking forward to at least a couple of days of R&R among her comrades at Cloud Ruler Temple.

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Chapter 27.2: A Dawn Conversation

They broke camp at first light, before the rising sun could be seen through the canopy of barren trees above them. They used the virgin snow to douse the embers of the fire that had warmed them through the night. Three of them huddled under heavy hooded cloaks and blankets, which did little to shield them from the worst of the cold. The fourth gave no indication of discomfort. He walked about shirtless, and set to the task of saddling his horse with a cheer that the others found disconcerting.

“Come friends,” he said, turning from his labor. He was as large a Nord as had ever ventured out of Skyrim. “Daylight is upon us. If my destiny be to die this day I would not have it take me unawares. If not then I would have the day’s work done so that we may sup in a tavern by the eighth bell.”

“We do not all share your constitution, Valdemar,” said an Imperial with icicles growing in the wispy stubble that lined his cheeks. He shivered under a thick blanket fashioned from the pelt of a grizzly. He blew a plume of cold vapor into morning sky. “This is not how I planned to spend Saturalia.”

A low chuckle emanated from the Redguard sitting next to him. “Whether here or at Cloud Ruler you still would have been cold, Rielus.” He rose and stretched limberness into his frozen limbs. The act lifted him from his blanket and revealed the blue enamel from the armor of Akaviri design that was visible under his cloak.

Rielus looked at the doused embers. “At Cloud Ruler I would be sitting in front of a roaring hearth with a belly full of mutton, Casnar.”

The Redguard laughed again. “Doubtless your feet would be numb and filled with blisters from walking patrol through the night. And your belly would probably be growling with emptiness.”

The Breton beside them stood up and shook free of his heavy blanket. “Need I remind you both of the seriousness of our charge? What needs to be done can not be accomplished with careless hearts.”

“Better careless than cowering, Alain,” said Valdemar. “This marks the third time I have entered those musty halls. I am all for duty, but tempting fate with such recklessness will be my undoing. I still have no idea why the Emperor entrusted this task to us.”

“Perhaps it is your experience with the place that swayed the Emperor’s decision,” said Casnar. “Outside of the departed battlemage there are none who know it better than you and Alain.”

"Would that Master Arctus were still around," said Valdemar, "he might have dissuaded the Emperor from this folly."

"You skirt the edge of treason with your words, Valdemar," said Casnar.

"Is it treason to speak the truth in Tiber Septim's Tamriel? Thanks to Alain whatever debts we owed to the place have long since been paid. Sending us back there only awakens ghosts that are best left slumbering.”

Rielus stood. “I realize that I do not speak with the voice of experience, but I am of the opinion that the dead do not suffer debts upon the living.”

“Perhaps not,” said Alain, “but as long as we draw breath we are compelled to pay respect to those who have passed on.” He lifted the saddle onto the back of his mount and began to secure it. Then he turned to Valdemar. “I share your misgivings, but we are Blades. The Emperor has entrusted us with a solemn duty. I mean to carry it out, or die in the attempt.”

Valdemar laughed and turned toward Rielus. “You see, lad? You would find more success trying to reason with one of the horses. Once Alain has it in his mind to do a thing then the best remedy is to have it done.” He lifted a battered Akaviri Cuirass from a place near the sodden embers and began to struggle into it.

“I must confess that curiosity outweighs fear at what the day has in store for us,” said Casnar. “After so many years of hearing the legends surrounding it I finally get to set eyes upon Sancre Tor. I only hope that the reality lives up to my expectation.”

“A fitting epitaph,” said Rielus. “Here lies Sir Casnar, the reality met his expectation.”

Alain mounted and turned toward the others. “If that is what destiny has in store for us then, as Valdemar said, I suggest we don’t keep her waiting.”

Valdemar took up his shield, thought better of it, and placed it back on the frozen ground.

“She can wait until I’ve broken my fast,” he said.

**************************************************
My breath drifted visibly in the predawn air as I drew the borrowed cloak closer around me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember what it was that had woken me so early with such a strong sense of foreboding. All I know is that the end draws near. But if the end means the crowning of Martin Septim as the Emperor, why do I feel such a sense of dread when I think of him seated on the Ruby Throne?

“Drake for your thoughts, Julian,” the captain’s voice sounded behind me in the predawn light. My shoulders hunched against the cold, I turned to see his silhouetted form join me in the western gate tower. He was bareheaded, his shoulders as broad as ever without the blue-enameled cuirass he always wore on duty.

“You’re up early, sir,” nervously I sent my gaze back to the sky. Overhead, the stars sparkled brightly, as they only do at this altitude.

“You should talk,” Steffan’s tone turned mildly humorous. “I noticed you didn’t sleep well.”

“I’m sorry if I bothered you and the others, sir,” I responded, slipping my hands beneath the fur-lined cloak. Too many things on my mind, now that - dream? vision? - that I can’t quite remember. It’s getting hard to focus on the most important thing - seeing Martin relight the Dragonfires. But what will happen then?

“You were gone a long time.” I sensed Steffan’s head turn to face in the same direction. “We knew you were making progress, for Jauffre spoke to the leaders of each of the reinforcements as they came in to Bruma.” Steffan rocked back on his heels slightly. “Countess Carvain is grateful for the support from her fellow Cyrodiil nobles.” He was silent a moment. “But the reinforcements are not what’s weighing your mind, or, if I may say so, your heart.”

I resisted the impulse to look at Steffan, aware of the warmth emanating off his thinly-clad body. “I learned a lot in the last two months, sir,” I spoke slowly, trying to gather my whirling thoughts into some semblance of order. Where to begin?

“Begin at the beginning,” Steffan suggested. “What did you learn first?”

“I learned how to summon Domina Incendia,” I began. “And how to be - diplomatically patient with young fools, sir.” His chuckle told me Steffan had heard of young Indarys. “If I ever hear Huzzah! again I’ll smack whoever said it.”

“Huz - hmm,” Steffan’s tone held amusement. I shot him a glare, but he kept his gaze on the horizon to the south. Though his mouth remained neutral, I thought I could detect a twinkle in the corner of his eye. I turned back to the view before he met my gaze. “Go on, Julian. I want to hear the rest.”

Do you, really? “I’m not certain what I learned about Count Indarys, sir,” I said after a moment. “He treated me with enough courtesy and respect, but I can’t shake the feeling that he always has an agenda of some kind.”

“House Hlaalu has a reputation for intrigue and devious machinations,” Steffan remarked. “I would be surprised if Indarys was any different.”

“Hmm,” I agreed. “And I learned that there really are all kinds in the Mages Guild, sir, including truly evil folks.” Steffan remained silent as I considered my travels, aware of his presence beside me. “Vampires are sly, cunning, and quite dangerous. If they want to kill you.” I thought of the contrast between Seridur and Count Hassildor. “And I learned how to recognize one. I learned to hate will o’wisps and what they do to horses and other animals.” I stopped, reliving again the horror I experienced trying to undo the damage that ethereal creature had done to my beloved friend.

“If young Indarys taught me how to be diplomatically patient,” I continued when I had control of my voice again. “Then Countess Leyawiin taught me how to be diplomatically angry, sir.”

“It worked,” Steffan said quietly. We stood in silence as the stars faded before the dawn. “And what else, Julian? So far we’ve covered Cheydinhal and Leyawiin.”

“I learned that animals have magicka too, and that was what was wrong with Paint.” I sighed. “Once I understood it, I learned how to restore it.”

“That’s not without significant cost to yourself, isn’t it?” Steffan asked. “You have to drain your own magicka to restore another’s, right?”

“Yes, sir, that was the spell Marz taught me,” I nodded. “I also learned that Count Terentius is up to no good, but there is no evidence to bring him up on charges before the Elder Council. Not yet, anyway.”

“That’s interesting. That brings you to what - Skingrad?” Steffan prompted me after a few moments.

“Yes, sir, and I learned there is a shortage of beds in the Skingrad Mages Guild chapter,” I said. Steffan laughed heartily at the tone in my voice. I tried to frown at him, but ended up chuckling myself. “It wasn’t funny at the time, sir,” I attempted to complain.

“No, I’m certain it wasn’t.” He shook his head, still chuckling.

Momentarily I thought of Hassildor’s vampiric nature, but decided to keep silent about it. “Count Skingrad was the first Count who didn’t hesitate to send help to Bruma. He only wanted to be certain Skingrad would be secure.”

“They’re good men, I hear,” Steffan nodded. “And did you learn anything - constructive at Skingrad?”

“I learned about the doomstones, sir,” I answered. “One of the mages there is very interested in them. I also learned a few more spells, a fireball spell and a shock on touch. I like that second one for the daedra. Seems they’re very sensitive to shock.”

“I take it you put Akatosh’s Fury to good use in the Deadlands?” Steffan’s head turned to me as I nodded. I sensed him turn his gaze back to the horizon. “Good. I’m glad Emperor Martin enchanted that bow with the shock stone.”

I glanced east. The sun had risen just past the tall peak called Gnoll Mountain. The thin mountain air was so cold that the warmth of the sun never touched my face. I shivered again within the cloak, thinking of Anvil. It’s much warmer there. They haven’t had frost yet. The rains won’t come for another month. They’ll still be picking tomatoes and eggplants.

“If you think this is cold, wait another month,” Steffan murmured, his breath now visible in the soft light of early morning. He scraped his fingernails against his five-bells shadow. It was even more pronounced than usual. Is he growing his beard out? He caught my glance and flashed a grin at me. “We’ll stop shaving for the winter - some of us, anyway.” I suppressed a snicker at the unexpected humor. “By the time of the longest night, we’ll be burning firestones in braziers through every bell out here so we can maintain our vigil without freezing. The sun will give off no warmth even at noon, and we’ll be wearing fur under our plate armor.”

“I’m already wearing fur beneath mine, sir!” I muttered, hunching my shoulders. “I don’t think I’ll be leaving the hearth in the Hall of Blades then!” Something stirred in my memory, then drifted away before I could grasp it.

Steffan chuckled, a stream of mist escaping his lips. “Then Anvil was next, right?”

I shivered again, looking down at the roofs of Bruma visible below. The old sadness moved through my core, escaped me in a long exhalation. At my side, Steffan stood silently, gaze on the horizon. After a few moments, his head turned toward me. Quickly I faced east to hide my tears.

“There’s a saying,” his soft voice reached me. “You can’t go home again. It’s true. Two years ago I took leave when my mother passed away. It was so strange walking in my old hometown again after thirty odd years.” Steffan paused. “I can see Anvil was difficult for you.”

“Not as difficult as I had feared, sir,” I found my voice again. “Old friends were still there, and I made new ones.” As I thought of Blanco, of Clesa and Ernest, I found myself smiling again. “I learned it’s possible to domesticate an imp.”

“An imp?” Steffan repeated disbelievingly. “Get out of here!”

“No, sir, seriously,” I shook my head. “One of the mages there found him when he was an injured baby. Thaurron felt sorry for him and healed him. By then the imp had adopted him, so Thaurron trained Sparky how to behave himself.”

“Sparky, huh?” Steffan turned his gaze back to the horizon. “Appropriate name, if you ask me.”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed. “In Kvatch I learned it’s possible to dream the impossible in the face of sheer devastation.”

“They did send a small contingent,” Steffan remarked. “Countess Narina tried to send them back, considering how decimated their guard is, but they refused. Ah, Vonius?”

“Ilend Vonius?” I glanced at Steffan, who nodded.

“Vonius said that no other town should suffer what Kvatch went through. If it’s possible to stop it here, they want to be part of it.” I could hear admiration and respect in Steffan’s tone.

“They’re determined to rebuild and thrive again,” I added. “I believe they will succeed.”

“And Chorrol?” Steffan asked after a few moments. “Did you learn anything there?”

“It’s a beautiful place, sir,” I answered. “And I did learn a few more spells there.”

“And now you have all the recommendations you need to enter the University?” Steffan asked me. I nodded. “Are you going to?”

“Once Martin is crowned Emperor and the Dragonfires are lit.” I studied the White Gold Tower, still shadowed by the eastern mountains. “If Grandmaster Jauffre will allow it, that is.”

“I think he will,” Steffan assured me. “I asked him what his plans for you as part of the Blades were. He said you would be most useful as an agent.”

Why would you ask the Grandmaster about me? Do you want me to stay on here at Cloud Ruler? My thoughts shied away from the implications of a garrison posting under the Captain’s command. “So the Mages Guild would be my cover, sir?” I wondered.

“More than that, Julian,” Steffan turned to face me, leaning against the corner post. Once again I found myself avoiding eye contact. “Each of us are required to have a second profession, one we can take up if necessary. Grandmaster Jauffre’s is as a lay brother of Talos. Roliand’s is as a tanner. Ferrum is a smith.”

I thought about it a moment. “Then Belisarius must be a bookseller.”

Steffan laughed. “Not quite. Historian.”

“And you, sir?”

“Haven’t you guessed by now?” His grin gleamed in the morning light. “Architect,” he finished when I shook my head.

“That’s why you admire Cloud Ruler Temple so much,” I laid my hands on the stone coping in front of me. “I remember what you said about no mortar.”

“Burd told me what you did for Soren at the top of that sigil keep,” Steffan said after a moment. “And you healed Paint yourself as best as you could. I think you should be a healer.”

“So I can either take lives or save them?” I asked. “I’m not certain of that, sir. It feels hypocritical.”

“I’m certain of it.” His tone was emphatic. “I get the sense you’d rather save lives than take them, but out of necessity, you won’t hesitate to take a life if that would mean saving an innocent.”

I stared at White Gold Tower, his words echoing in my mind. After a moment, Steffan stood off the post and clapped me on the shoulder. “Think about it, Julian. And don’t forget to come in and eat something hot!” He turned and walked back to the Hall of Blades.

Something made me turn and watch his departing figure. How did you know I needed someone to talk to? Even though I didn’t tell you everything, I wanted to. Briefly I wondered why I hadn’t. Felen Relas’s words came back to me. “The man you love has to be one you look up to. Not necessarily physically, but in terms of his principles, his ethics. You can’t love someone you don’t respect.”

I respect you, Captain Steffan. But I can’t let myself fall in love with you. Not while I’m your subordinate here at Cloud Ruler Temple. And not while I have this sense of doom hanging over my head.