The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Part 3 Options

[OverrideB1]

Yestere had been extremely profitable for me, as I had pretty much spent the day practising various spells, summoning, and combat techniques, not to mention a little alchemy. While there was no chance I was ever going to be partaking of the three greasy and foul-smelling concoctions I’d produced as a result of my experiments ~ the other training had been extremely beneficial albeit tiring. So, it was with more than a little impatience that I responded to the hammering on the front door that awoke me this morning. I was just about to address the young individual with the appropriate venom when he thrust a parchment into my hand, saying, “Muthsera Hleran sends her compliments.”

The note was brief and to the point:

CODE

“The first stage of your stronghold is complete. Please contact me at your convenience to discuss further development.”

Even though I knew that, at this stage, my stronghold wouldn’t be inhabitable, it was excellent news indeed. Dressing quickly, I spoke the words of the translocation spell and found myself in Sadrith Mora. Making my way into the oddly lit cavern, I listened to what Llunela had to say to me.

“I’m glad you came Muthsera Vahl,” she said. “The initial phase of growth is now complete. However, your tower still needs to grow more and it will need to be shaped. Traditionally, a skilled Tekton does this but, regrettably, the current expansion on the mainland means that they are all very busy there. We could leave the tower to grow wild ~ which rarely results in anything useable.

“But, when traditional means are unavailable, we have to make do with something else. It is said that the Dwemer had an artefact that could shape materials using sound. The book I read, by an Imperial named Hevou Thath, said that he’d seen designs for one such artefact in the Dwemer ruins of Mzanchend. I need you to travel there and locate these drawings, if they’re still there.”

Conveniently enough, the ruins I need are quite close to Uvirith’s Grave: so travelling there was my first priority. I followed pretty much the same route as before and soon came to the twisted knot of roots and branches that would form the basis of my tower. They had grown considerably since the last time, now being something like twice the height of a Mer. The environs, unfortunately, hadn’t improved any: the dust still lay thick on the ground and blew up in choking clouds at the slightest breeze. There was one change, however: and not a pleasant one. At the edge of the raised area of land upon which stood the hillock my tower was growing on was a campfire. Advancing cautiously, I made my way towards it.

“Greetings,” the armoured woman standing by the fire said, “what brings you to this gods forsaken plot of land?”

“This land is mine,” I replied somewhat sharply, “as is yonder tower. What brings you to my property?”

“Ahh well,” she said, raising the visor of her steel helm and looking at me. “Firstly, my apologies for any offence Telvanni. I have a tendency to speak jocularly when, maybe, I shouldn’t. As to what I am doing here, it’s complicated.”

“So, uncomplicated it,” I demanded. She grinned wryly.

“At your command. My being here serves a two-fold purpose. The first is that I am a researcher: and what I am researching is the life and times of the Mage Uvirith. Where you aware that this is the very spot his body was discovered in?” I shook my head, although given that the area was named Uvirith’s Grave, I wasn’t overly surprised. “Yes,” she continued, “and a very odd death he seems to have died too. He vanished from the Guild over in Balmora and, eventually, they became concerned enough to mount an expedition to locate him.

“After searching for many days, they found his corpse somewhere around here. It seems that he fell from a great height ~ with the inevitable consequences. Which is strange, because he was an accomplished mage and knew spells of levitation and slow-fall. Even odder was the length of frayed rope tied around his waist ~ what it was tied to at the other end, nobody knows.”

“All very interesting,” I interrupted, “but not really telling me why you are here.”

“Well,” she said, flushing slightly, “his staff was never found, although they scoured the area. It was, and probably still is, a very powerful piece of magical equipment. I had hoped to find some trace of it. The other thing is, recently I came into possession of a book of his that suggests he was looking for something very special ~ and may even have found it.”

“And what would that be?” I asked. She mumbled something quickly and quietly that I didn’t catch.

“A flying Dwemer fortress,” she snapped when I asked her to repeat what she’d said. I laughed until the tears ran down my cheeks while she stood there glowering at me.

“I’m sorry,” I finally managed to splutter. “Are you telling me that you actually believe those children’s’ stories about a big flying castle that swoops down and rewards good children come New Life Eve?”

“Not in the slightest…” she started to say, then stopped and looked at me. “Perhaps,” she amended, “I’ve found that there’s often a grain of truth in even the most fanciful tales. But I’ve spent many years chasing those grains of truth and rarely found anything. Which means that I’ve spent a lot of money and have little to show for it…”

“Which brings you to the second reason you’re here?” I suggested warily.

“I have heard,” she said carefully, “that Telvanni Mage-Lords hire mercenaries and was wondering…”

“Well, I’m no Mage-Lord,” I replied “and have no need of mercenaries at the moment.”

“I’m willing to wait,” she replied. I nodded thoughtfully. I hadn’t really given any thought to the protection of my tower and, given my ambitious plans for my self, I really should. If I rose much higher than my current rank of Spellwright, I could expect the unwelcome attentions of the lower ranking Telvanni who wanted my position. A few mercenaries wouldn’t go amiss.

“I’d be willing to consider you for the position,” I said. “But I need to know that you’re trustworthy. No offence, but you could be here to gain a position with me and use that position to a rival’s advantage. Here’s a couple of hundred Septims as a retainer. Keep your eyes peeled,” I said as I handed over the money, “and when I come back I shall expect a report from you.”

Leaving Kallin Basalius to her assigned task, I followed Llunela’s directions until I found myself at the ruins of Mzanchend. The ruins were only small, much of what had existed was lost behind a massive cave-in, but they did boast a small array of those spider-type animalcules. Having filled a collection pouch with a small number of rubies and diamonds, I finally found what I hoped I was looking for ~ a small sheet of the strange material the Dwemer used for writing and drawing on, covered in bizarre symbols and lines.

There was one other interesting feature in Mzanchend. Opposite the main entrance there was a flight of stairs leading down to a small corridor. At the end was a massive Dwemer door ~ the ornate engraved kind rather than the simple iron doors that you usually find in a ruin. What made this door particularly interesting was the lock that sealed it. It was not a Dwemeric lock; rather it bore the ornate style of local manufacture. Whoever had placed the lock had seriously intended to keep people from whatever was behind the door: no amount of examination or magic seemed to make the slightest difference; it simply would not be opened.

With a resigned shrug, I left the intriguing lock (I admit, its presence there had piqued my interest) and made my way back to Sadrith Mora. There Llunela Hleran had something of a shock for me. She’d been studying the drawing I’d brought back for a while before she spoke to me.

“This device can be made: I have enough knowledge to make it myself. However it can only be used once and it’s going to cost five thousand Septims to produce.”

“Five Thousand!” I exclaimed.

“I’m afraid so,” she replied. “Some of the materials are going to be very difficult to obtain, and there’s a lot of work that needs to be done. It will take me a day, or two, to create this object but once it is done, your tower should be ready fairly quickly.”

It was with a heavy heart that I handed over the money, five thousand Septims represented almost every Drake I had accumulated since arriving here, save the money safely tucked away in the Bank of Vvardenfell. It was with a much lighter purse that I returned to Balmora ~ on the morrow I would have to see what could be done about replenishing my funds.

[OverrideB1]

I returned to Tel Naga this morning, having spent the night at Fara’s ‘Hole-In-The-Wall’. As I expected, my reception was distinctly chilly.
“Ahh,” Neloth sneered, “the mercenary-killer. I hope you realise that every time you visit my tower I end up having to employ a new mercenary? Who have you come to kill today?”

“I’m not here to kill anyone,” I replied, biting back the obvious answer. “A robe you wanted, a robe I have.”

“Excellent,” Neloth said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “I might almost forgive you Berengeval and Engaer for this. Vares, pay our dear guest for fetching me the robe.”

Neloth’s bodyguard stepped forward, reaching for the robe as he extended a hand. My eyes widened when I saw what was being proffered, and I quickly snatched the robe out of the way. “TEN Septims,” I said in outrage. “You plan on giving me a lousy ten Septims for the robe?”

“Of course,” Neloth said calmly. “Taking into account the cost of replacing the mercenaries you’ve killed, ten Septims and my promise to consider approving your promotion is far more than fair. Never let it be said that Master Neloth is ungenerous.”

“I’ll give you some clues as to what else will be said about Master Neloth’s generosity in a minute,” I said, shaking my head at the sheer gall of the Mer. “Unless you’re going to substantially increase that offer and give me a guarantee that you’ll support me, I’ll take the robe and leave.”

“Leave then,” he hissed, “but if you do, remember that I’ll never give you my support.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to make do without your support,” I said, packing the robe into my pack and preparing to leave.

His eyes narrowed and he gripped the edge of his chair so hard that his knuckles went white. “You’ve made an enemy here this day Vahl,” he spat.

I calmed down somewhat on the boat trip to Tel Mora and, by the time I’d arrived at the docks and made my way up to Mistress Dratha’s chambers, I was able to view the situation with Neloth with a surprising degree of calm. Dratha was far more empathic than I’d given her credit for ~ which might explain the exceptionally close rapport with her Mouth.

“That is exactly what I wanted,” she said when I displayed the Amulet of Flesh Made Whole. “I do hope that fool Berengeval put up a fight. As to payment, I have here some scrolls I thought you might find useful. They’re to summon Golden Saints. Now, while that might not seem too generous a reward for obtaining such a powerful amulet, I will tell you that I have pledged my support to Master Demnevanni’s plan and will support you whether you take the rank of Master or Magister.”

So it was Dratha that Baladas had been talking about, the other Master that would support me in my promotion. I thanked her gravely. She had some additional information for me, “Gothren is old and partially blind on his left side. If you direct your attacks from that side, he’ll have a great deal of difficulty dealing with them. Of more concern are the two bound Dremora Lords that act as his bodyguards. Some artefact he has summons them on a continual basis and binds them to protecting him.

“If I were you, I would isolate each of the Dremora and deal with them one-on-one. Trying to take both of them and the Arch-Magister on at the same time would not be a good idea if you have plans to survive for long.”

It was after imparting this information that Dratha surprised me with her empathy. “You’re troubled, what is it?”

I explained the situation with Master Neloth and she started to laugh. Slightly offended, but not wishing to offend her, I raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Neloth had no intention whatsoever of supporting you,” she chuckled. “Gothren says ‘jump’ and he doesn’t even stop to ask ‘how high’. And Gothren is, of course, strongly opposed to your promotion.”

“Why is that?” I asked in alarm.

“Simple,” she responded. “You’re a protégée of Aryon’s and Aryon’s desire to forge closer ties with the Empire is well known. Arch-Magister Gothren believes that you will be the pivotal vote on the Telvanni Council, allowing Aryon to push his plans through. And that, let me assure you, is the last thing Gothren, Baladas, or I want.”

I felt I was getting into murky waters here, there were layers upon layers of House politics that I simply didn’t understand. “If you and Baladas are opposed to Aryon’s plans, why are you siding with Baladas against Gothren if Gothren is opposed to them too?”

“To put it simply,” she said, “Gothren is too old fashioned. He believes that Great House Telvanni should have no contact at all with the Empire. Aryon believes that we should open up the inner workings of the House and integrate ourselves with the Empire, like those Hlaalu are doing.

“Gothren believes that you are ‘irrevocably contaminated’ by your upbringing within the Empire. Those are his words, not mine,” she added, smiling. “Because of that, he cannot conceive of a situation where you wouldn’t work with Aryon to promote Aryon’s plan. Aryon, on the other hand,” she continued, “believes that you are strongly pro-Imperial and will, by default, approve of any plan that brings House and Empire together.”

“Both of them are wrong,” I said hotly. I was infuriated that Aryon had made such assumptions about me, even more furious that Gothren had made the same assumptions without ever meeting me.

“That’s what Baladas and I hoped you’d say,” Dratha said happily. “Tell me Serjo Vahl, if you were in the position to dictate how Great House Telvanni works with the Empire, what would you suggest?”

“I’d suggest that the House looks closely at any allegiance with the Empire,” I replied, “to see whether it benefits the House or the Imperials. Where the benefit is clearly to our advantage, we should seize the opportunity. Otherwise,” I finished, “we should leave the Empire whistling in the breeze.”

“I had so hoped for an answer like that,” Dratha said, her eyes shining. “Baladas was right about you, you are just what he and I are looking for. You see, my dear, we believe that there are great advantages to be had by complying with some Imperial edicts while defying others. Unfortunately, Baladas was unaware of my support for such an idea when he accepted Aryon’s promotion to Master. He would have made an excellent Arch-Magister.”

Dratha finished her crash-course in inter-House politics by saying, “There will be some opposition to some of the things that we do but, if you discuss them fully with us I’m sure we can bring the others around.”

I recognised the trap in that statement, and was quick to set the Meric female to rights. “If I’m Arch-Magister,” I pointed out, “I may seek your advice on some matters, but you will not be allowed to dictate Great House Telvanni policy.”

She looked at me for a very long time, and I feared that I might have overstepped the bounds of what Dratha considered polite. Finally, she nodded and smiled and I felt a great weight shift off my shoulders. “The perfectly correct response,” she said. “I look forwards to working with you… Sed Vahl.”

I left Tel Mora feeling much happier about taking the promotion than I had since the whole idea had been suggested. I was still unsure what step to take next, but I knew I had the support of two powerful people regardless of what I did. Aryon would, I was sure, come around to accepting the new status quo if I went forward with deposing Gothren. If not… well, there are ways and means of dealing with that situation if it arose. Neloth’s nose would be put out of joint if I became Arch-Magister while I seriously doubted Therana would even notice, or care. It was the thought of Neloth’s reaction that helped me decide. I loathed and detested the Mer for the way he’d behaved and I could think of no better way to repay him than cutting away his power base.

“I hereby appoint you as my Mouth,” I said to Edward Theman. “Here is your staff of office and here are five hundred Septims. For Azura’s sake, get yourself some decent clothes before you turn up in Sadrith Mora.”

Edward lived up to his nickname; leaving his hovel in Balmora so quickly I swear he left scorch-marks on the rugs. Squaring my shoulders, I spoke the words that would return me to Vos, “Ut locus Ego eram pro”.

“You want what?” Master Aryon gasped when I told him. “You want to be made Magister?”