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: Back among the Blades, Julian wasn't about to let go of the four! It makes me happy that you caught the link between the Fab Four and the present-day Blades Julian is spending time with. Honestly, I was thinking of Buffy when I wrote the conditioner part. Thank you for your endorsement of the final paragraph. I had not been happy with the way it ended, and just as I posted, I changed the last sentence into something a little more bittersweet. It seems that my last-minute change made a world of difference.

@Sage Rose: I thought you would like the girl-time. It was nice for Julian too, to relax and let go of her pilus persona for a while. Of course, once she joins the University, moments like this will be more frequent as we get to see the academic side of her more often.

@Olen: It seems I enjoy writing these bits of interaction as much as you appear to enjoy reading them. I know from your own writing that we share the same view that writing dialogue and interaction is essential to character-driven fiction.

@Destri: Let's agree that the Fab Four are 'ours' and leave it at that. OMG, you just reminded me that I haven't fed Acadian in a looooong time! He must be starving by now! I'm surprised he's still with us on this journey. I'm going to have to feed him soon. Not this post, but the next. As for in-game Jena, she never says much - not a conversationalist at all. She certainly doesn't enlighten the player about herself. So the fact that she grew up the daughter of an Imperial merchant in Rihad is creative license on my part.

@Athynae: That makes two of us! Yup, kicking young people's egos can be quite fun, especially the arrogant ones who think the world revolves around them. Julian tried to hide how much the Fab Four affected her, but I think the others picked up on that, and respect her all the more for it. I know Captain Steffan certainly does!

@Grits: You and many others have picked up on how much Julian has regained her fighting trim during her long Grand Circuit. That was the purpose of the sparring match between her and Ferrum. Julian still insists that she needed the practice, but I don't think Ferrum agrees! And it's nice when Julian agrees to let her hair down.

After a day of training and relaxation, Julian finds out a little bit more of the past, and more of her future.

******************************
Chapter 27.4: Ancient History

“So this Sunbird Dance isn’t any particular style of combat?” Ferrum shook his head. “Then what’s there to study and master?”

The fire crackled as the other Blades turned their gazes to me. We sat gathered before the wide hearth, passing around the klah pot. Though I could not see them, I was aware of Grandmaster Jauffre and Captain Steffan’s presences in the shadows beyond the ring of off-duty soldiers. Cyrus and Belisarius sat side by side opposite me, with the big Redguard tending the fire to keep it hot. Beyond them, I could see Baurus’s eyes glimmering on the edge of the firelight from his place behind Martin’s shoulder.

The new Emperor sat quietly, his hands empty for a change. His gaze rested sightlessly on the fire. Again the gauntness in his face struck me. Is he still having nightmares of Kvatch? I recalled what Matius had said to me that evening at the base of the mesa. “I don’t think about it when I’m up there, but at night, when I’m trying to sleep -“ For a brief second my own nightmares fought their way to the surface of my consciousness, and I fought them back with a sip of the strong klah.

“The Sunbird Dance is more a state of being than a style of fighting,” I returned to the present. “It’s about the dance with your opponent, making your opponent into your partner.”

“Isn’t the sunbird a real bird?” Jena asked from her place a few seats away. “I recall hearing something about it when I was growing up.”

I nodded. “Jelin told me about it. It’s a small, reclusive bird that lives in the foothills between the deserts of Hammerfell and the Dragontail Mountains,” I paused to search my memory. “It’s sighted only during mating season, when the males fight for territory and females.”

“A martial art discipline named after an invisible bird?” Fortis repeated incredulously. “Why?”

“I recall reading something about that somewhere,” Belisarius leaned forward, cupping his mug in his dark fingers. “The females claim the territory, and the males have to not only fight each other for it, but also impress the female owner.” He met my gaze across the hearth. “But like Fortis, I don’t understand the application to a martial arts discipline.”

“Part of the reason they’re so hard to find the rest of the year,” I nodded at him, “is because they stay hidden. And they’re capable of mimicry. They can not only accurately sing the song of any other bird in their area, but also the sounds other animals make. If a predator gets too close to their nests, they can mimic the sound of a prey animal to lure the predator away. Or they will mimic the sound of a Mad Hoosa.”

“A mad what?” Pelagius repeated. Jena glanced at me.

“I thought those were just mythical?” she muttered, turning her gaze back to her mug.

“Apparently not,” I answered. “Jelin swears he saw one when he was a child in Sentinel. Barely escaped with his life.” I shrugged. “A Mad Hoosa is a creature of nightmares, it seems. I’m not sure what to make of the descriptions.”

“A body of a thick snake,” Jena murmured, her voice barely audible above the crackling of the flames. “Arms and breasts of a woman. Head of a reptile - not Argonian but rather an ancient desert reptile. Tentacles springing from the back of the head.” Her fair skin colored slightly as she kept her eyes downcast. “My Alik’r nanny used to threaten us with the Mad Hoosa if we didn’t go to bed and stay in bed at the proper time.”

“Plenty of strange creatures live in the provinces,” Belisarius mused thoughtfully. I nodded agreement. I had seen my share in Valenwood and Skyrim.

“So the birds are great mimics,” Fortis turned back to me. “But how does that translate to martial arts?”

“Sunbirds have a high degree of adaptability to any given situation,” I answered. “When the males compete for a mating territory, they typically use the fighting tactics of other birds. They can and will switch styles very quickly, and the opponents adapt to each other. The victor is the one who has the ability to adopt the most different ways of bird fighting. They can fight like eagles, like swallows, like gulls, and so on.”

“Ah, now I understand,” Fortis rocked back on the stool, his eyes lifting to the ancient blades hanging overhead. “Like the sunbirds, a master of the Sunbird Dance can adapt to his opponent.”

“Exactly,” I nodded. “Jelin was a Blademaster. He could fight with blunt weapons, with a sword and shield, with a sword only, or with a two-handed claymore. He trained me in all of these weapons. I’m not the master he was, but I have him to thank for my survival. Otherwise, it would be my bones lying at the bottom of Sancre Tor, instead of Rielus’s and the others.”

“You’re not a master?” Ferrum pointed at me, disbelief in his eyes. “Could’ve fooled me!” I felt the heat in my cheeks at the chorus of agreement that rippled around the hearth.

Once more I found myself telling them about the four Blades I had met beneath the crumbling ruins of Sancre Tor. I answered their questions as best as I could. For the most part they were interested in the different combat techniques each Blade had used, and how I had managed to counter them.

Finally I stopped speaking, my voice hoarse. The group fell silent, each lost in his and her own thoughts. After a few moments, the others began drifting away, most headed for bed, though a few headed out to suit up for night duty. A voice murmured into the crackling silence. I looked up at Belisarius, still seated beside the fire.

“Rielus was a spearman,” his tone remained soft. “He knew Legion tactics, especially those of the hastati. Yet when he joined the Blades, he learned the Akaviri sword fighting and quickly mastered it.” He met my gaze across the hearth. “He became the first Captain of the Imperial Guard.”

I stared at him. “You knew their history?”

“After you came back,” Belisarius shrugged, “Captain Steffan and I looked them up in the archives. Alain was from High Rock, and Valdemar was Skyrim-born. They were at the battle of Sancre Tor, and fought against Tiber Septim when he took the city. Yet a few years later, they swore allegiance to him after they found and killed the traitor that betrayed their comrades to Talos’s army.”

I recalled something Casnar’s spirit had said of them. “They always fought side by side, I heard,” I offered. Belisarius nodded.

“They were known to be inseparable in battle,” he added. “And Casnar was a Knight of the Moon in Stros M’Kai before Tiber Septim assimilated Hammerfell. He saved Cyrus from his fellow Knights after Cyrus killed his own brother-in-law.”

I inhaled sharply at the mention of my childhood hero. “Yes, I remember the stories, but I didn’t know it was Casnar who saved him -“ Now I begin to understand why Casnar seemed relieved of his guilt when I spoke of Cyrus and modern Hammerfell’s relationship with Cyrodiil.

Belisarius smiled, but I could see sadness in his dark eyes. “Now do you know the kind of men you freed from eternal slavery? There’s not a single one of us who doesn’t appreciate what you did for our long-lost brothers.”

“I haven’t been one of you for long,” I set my mug down on the table next to me. “And I’ve spent more time away than I have here since. But I couldn’t help but consider them my brothers too.”

Belisarius rose to his feet, stretching his spine. He gathered the few remaining mugs and the empty klah pot. “You have been our sister ever since you first arrived here with Emperor Martin in tow.” He nodded respectfully at me. “You’ve brought nothing but honor to us, especially after the death of the old Emperor.” He bowed to Martin before leaving the hearth.

As Belisarius disappeared into the kitchen with the mugs and pot, Martin stood up and turned back to his table. I caught his signal and followed him.

The Xarxes lay before him on the rough wooden surface, parchment sheets covered with cribbed notes covering its open pages. Relieved that I wouldn’t have to look at that ominous daedric script, I sat down across from him as he selected a sheet from the pile and scanned it.

Julian and Martin

“I’ve figured out the next item I need for the ritual,” his hazel eyes darkened in the soft light from the lamps surrounding the table. Something in his voice told me I had another difficult mission ahead. He laid the sheet before me. “A Great Welkynd Stone.”

I glanced up at him. “I’ve heard of Welkynd stones, but I don’t know what they are,” I murmured, turning back to the parchment. A sketch of some sort of compound covered its surface, with arrows and notes. Ra’sava Camp off to the south. Kvatch to the west. Skingrad to the southeast. Wait, is this -? I recalled what Tilmo had once told me of the sprawling Ayleid ruin that lay north of the Gold Road. “Adventurers have gone in there seeking treasure, but none have come out. Likely the old traps still work, and the guardians still walk the halls.” I managed to stifle the shudder as I looked back up at Martin.

“Yes, Welkynd stones are said to be fragments of meteoric glass, fragments of Aetherius.” He picked up a smaller tome and handed it to me. I glanced at the spine. Magic from the Sky. “Welkynd is Ayleid for ‘Sky Child.’ The stones are pieces of enchanted meteoric glass which store magical power. You can use them to recharge your Magicka if you are depleted.” He smiled at my wince. “Of course, if you use one, it is destroyed in giving up its magic.”

“And the Great Welkynd Stone?” I set the book down on the table. “What makes it special?”

“It is considered the pinnacle of Ayleid magic,” Martin leaned his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers in front of his face. “Once every Ayleid city had its own Great Stone. But they’ve all been plundered. All but one.” Now he gestured at the rough sketch in my fingers. “The Great Stone of Miscarcand is reputed to still shine in the deep darkness of its ruins. But no one has ever seen it and lived. It is said to be guarded by the spirit of the last king of Miscarcand.”

My heart sank. “Do you require me to go into that ruin and find it?”

A pained flicker moved through his steady gaze. “I could send one of the others,” Martin mused. “But none have the experience in dark places that you have.”

“Not Ayleid ruins,” I shook my head. “I’ve only been in one.” Telepe. And that was a tiny one.

Martin nodded. “I know I’ve asked a great deal of you, my friend,” he lowered his hands and spread them expressively over the books piled on the table. “You’ve done so much since you brought me here. Don’t think me unappreciative of what you’ve accomplished, Julian.”

“I made a promise to your father,” I swallowed against the grief that knotted my throat. “I will see you light the Dragonfires again.” I shook my head in emphasis. “I will not stop until that happens. If you say you need me to go to Miscarcand,” this time the walnut was from fear, but I choked it down anyway. “If you need me to go to Miscarcand, I will go there and find this Great Stone.”

“I know you’ve seen and braved many dangers since you left my father,” Martin reached across the table and laid his hand on my left forearm, his fingers covering the faded tattoo beneath my woolen sleeve. “And I know the Dragon has been with you the entire time, just as he was with you in the Legion.” He gave my arm a firm squeeze for emphasis. “But Miscarcand is not to be taken lightly. Be careful.”

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Aug 4 2011, 03:56 PM