Life Beyond Main Quest, A place where old habits continue, and new habits develop . . . Options

[haute ecole rider]

Hi all,

Julian continues to tell me her ongoing tale. There are many questions left unanswered by Old Habits Die Hard, and she will do her best to answer them!

So here we go again . . .


Evening Star 29, 4E01

"Julian." A voice from my childhood reached me beneath the murmur of injury and illness. I looked up from my patient to see the aged Breton standing in the doorway of the hospice.

I acknowledged him with a nod, then turned back to the injured man before me. "That leg is healing well, Ancus," I assured him. "Another couple of weeks, and you'll be swimming again in the harbor."

"Thank ye, kind lady," relief flooded the beggar's tone as he lay back on the narrow cot. "With these old joints, that's the only way I can keep active." I nodded my agreement. I recalled seeing Puny Ancus swimming every morning at dawn in the calm waters of the harbor, between the moored ships and the lighthouse. At these times, he moved without pain or stiffness. I suspected it gave him the same benefits that the Way of the Crane provided me. I smiled at Ancus and grasped his shoulder before I moved to the front of the hospice.

"I see Ancus is doing better," Tandilwe joined me for a few strides. "Thank you for helping with him."

"He may be a homeless beggar," I answered, "but he is my neighbor just as much as everyone else in the Waterfront."

"I wish more people felt the way you do," Tandilwe murmured before moving to her next patient's bedside.

Finally I reached the doorway and Traven. I put my palms together before my chest and inclined my head to him in the mages' greeting. "What can I do for you, Archmagister?"

"How are things with the Waterfront folks?" Traven stepped back into the late afternoon overcast. I followed him and glanced at the darkening sky. No red thunderclouds. Though it had been two weeks since Mehrunes Dagon had been banished back to the Deadlands, I still could not shake my new habit of scanning the sky for telltales of those Oblivion Gates.

"The hospice is half full now, sir," I turned my gaze back to Traven's face. "Most of the patients are recovering well."

"Then we can expect to see you at the Arcane University soon?" Traven led me to the nearby cemetery at the eastern end of Waterfront Isle. Fresh graves still waited new stones, their temporary wooden markers beginning to weather in the winter rains.

I hesitated, glancing back at the rough shelter of the hospice. "I'm not certain," I spoke slowly. "There's still so much to do here --"

"Julian!" A child's voice cut me off. I turned to see a Bosmer girl run up to me, a furry bundle in her arms. "See, you were right! Mausie is doing better!" The kitten mewed in protest at being dangled in the girl's hands as she held the animal up for my inspection.

I knelt to her level and cradled the tiny creature in my hands. Her dignity restored, the kitten submitted to my gentle probing with an astoundingly powerful purr. Her legs gave no indication of the trauma suffered just two weeks ago, when the Gate opened at the southwestern corner of the Waterfront Isle.

"Yes, Brynn," I assured the girl, "Mausie is all better. She'll grow up to be a healthy cat." I tucked the tabby-stripped creature into the child's cradling arms. "Keep feeding her small amounts of meat once a day. No more milk, remember what happened the last time?"

"Eww!" Brynn's face crinkled in disgust. "No more milk!" She shook her head emphatically before running off.

Traven's eyes on me were both thoughtful and amused. "I see you've still the soft spot for animals." I felt my cheeks warm at his reminder of my childhood obsession.

I returned to my full height. "Animals have suffered just as much as mortals here," I muttered more to myself than to Traven. His smile widened briefly, then faded on a sigh.

"Julian, you went to a great deal of effort to gain the necessary recommendations for entry to the University. In your place, any other candidate would have run to Raminus Polus to claim his spot on the student rolls. Yet you hesitate."

I considered his words. How to explain? These people have so little, yet they've suffered as much as those living on City Isle. I live here now, how can I turn my back on them? "Archmagister," I took a deep breath. "Who will help these people recover? Who will make certain there are enough healing potions to go around?"

"The Watchmen and the Temple can help here."

I shook my head. "The Waterfront is not a place where citizens trust the City Watch," I reminded him. "And there simply aren't enough Temple healers to go around."

Traven bent to one of the temporary markers and set it straight in the sandy soil. "Julian, I've seen enough of your spell casting to know that your magicka has grown considerably since those days when you struggled to heal your own scrapes and bruises. Yet you have not learned to control it, as you know how to control the sword in your hand." He met my gaze. "This can create a dangerous situation not only for yourself, but also for others around you."

"I've been careful, Archmagister," I knelt beside another grave and tidied the wilted blooms propped against the wood panel.

"Tandilwe tells me you've been up late nights replenishing healing potions for the next day," Traven apparently tried another approach. "Do you realize that alchemy consumes magicka as well?"

I glanced up at him, startled. No wonder I feel so tired these days! "As long as they need healers in the hospice," I nodded at the rough-built shelter just a few paces away, "I'll stay here and help as much as I can."

"Are you worried about the tuition?" Traven's abrupt change of subject caught me off guard, and I could only nod. "Silly girl!" Traven chided me. "If you had bothered to speak to Raminus Polus about the admission process, he would have told you that the Anvil and the Bravil Mages Guild chapters are sponsoring you!"

I stared at Traven. "S - sponsoring?" I stammered. "What does that mean?"

"Each Guild chapter has the option to sponsor a student of their choice and to pay up to a quarter of that student's tuition, for as long as that student remains enrolled in the University full-time." Traven's smile widened at the astonishment I knew showed in my face. "Between Anvil and Bravil, half of your tuition is covered."

I stared at the overcast sky, momentarily glad I was still kneeling. Anvil makes sense - after all, Carahil and Felen Relas knew me when I was a child, they know me better than anyone else except maybe for Traven himself. But Bravil --! "Why Bravil?"

"Kud-Ei is very impressed by the way you handled certain challenges during your recent visits to Bravil," Traven answered. "She feels very strongly that the Mages Guild needs more members with your real-world experience, and fewer - ah - ivory tower warriors."

I lifted my brows at his terms. "Ivory tower --?"

Traven chuckled. "One dangerous habit scholars must beware is the tendency to get so buried in their books they forget to look up at the world around them. Such as a certain pair of young mages more obsessed with playing pranks on their clueless chapter head than with figuring out how to keep the folks warm on those cold mountain nights."

I stifled a groan at the memory of the dressing-down I had given Volanaro and J'skar my first night in the Guild. “Yet they taught me a few useful spells,” I found myself defending them.

“They did not understand the practical value of those spells,” Traven shook his head. “They learned them only because they could. You, however, chose to learn spells that would be of use in your travels.”

I rose to my feet and turned to face Traven. “Isn’t that the best use of the magicka you are born with?” I shook my head. “I understand wanting to know more,” Akatosh knows how many military history and strategy books I’ve read through the years! “If not for those seeking knowledge for knowledge’s sake, how can we expand our understanding of the world around us?” I shook my head. “Like the nirnroots. Why have no new ones grown in so many centuries?”

Traven’s brows rose. “I see you have been talking to Sinderion!” He chuckled. “All the more reason for you to enroll at the University. Perhaps you can change Kalatar’s boring lecture on the runestones!”

[haute ecole rider]

@Captain BamBam: Thanks very much for that enthusiastic endorsement of Julian's LBMQ. I am happy to present you with Julian's biggest challenge yet: University Enrollment. Though we have to go through the Admission process first. Just to make things formal, you know.

@SubRosa: I'm delighted to finally get into the world-building I've always wanted to do with this game. Now that we are free of the constraints of the MQ, Julian is fully into exploring the strange land that is Cyrodiil. Having spent her childhood on the Gold Coast and her adulthood in various provinces (though not Morrowind, unfortunately), she finally gets the opportunity to get to know her homeland better.

@Grits: Julian is one of my most pervasive characters. After living with her story for three years, and feeling the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat (de feet? Every soldier knows that one! ), she is a hard one to forget. Every time i play Oblivion, no matter the character I'm rolling, she's always there, that voice in the background that provides the commentary. While I adore just about every one of my characters, Julian is the one I'm having the most difficulty letting go of. She certainly isn't letting go of me!

@McB: By the time I wrote this little segment, I had already written 39 chapters of Cardonaccum. So it wasn't difficult to pick up Julian's story as I was taking a little break from Lady Cora's anyway. Unfortunately, now I've caught up with all those chapters, so I'm back to writing Lady Cora once again. But it is now time for a little comic relief with Julian. Writing her LBMQ like this is great - I can write these little bits as they come, and keep up the pace for Cardonaccum.

@ghastley: I always thought Puny Ancus went swimming for his health. Summer or winter, it's the first thing he does when he gets up. So I put it in Julian's story that it's how he deals with his joint ills.

@treydoggie: It's interesting to hear how you perceive Julian's voice. For me, yes, I agree with the roughness, but I'm not so sure about the burr. More of a Latin accent, where the r's are rrrrolled in the back of the throat and she struggles still with the j's ('Yoolian', rather than 'Julian', that sort of thing.) Still, I won't argue with the Chorrol dachshund!

@Acadian: I don't intend to post in this as regularly as I am in Cardonaccum. I do hope this infrequent pace doesn't challenge your ability to keep up with both. As for Lady Cora's story, we are entering what will be familiar ground to our paladin as she makes landfall in Cyrod. Though things are happening four hundred years earlier, so not all is quite the same. I do hope that you will continue to support Cardonaccum, for your insight is always invaluable.

LBMQ so far: Archmagister Traven has visited Julian at the Waterfront hospice where she has been busy healing the poor in the aftermath of Dagon's invasion. Finally convinced to enter the University, Julian musters the courage to head out to that island on Enrollment Day, when young hopefuls from all over Tamriel hope to gain entrance into the University.

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Morning Star 8, 4E01 - Enrollment Day at the Arcane University

I pushed the tall copper-sheathed door open and entered the lobby. Within, several young men and women turned to face me. So much attention at once spurred a brief impulse to turn tail and run, but a familiar face approached me through the crowd.

“Julian!” Tar-Meena’s jeweled eyes sparkled in the magelight as she caught my hand. “Sso glad you came!” She drew me down to the floor and into the chaos of Enrollment. “Have you completed the admission process yet?”

“Admission process?” I repeated stupidly. A ripple of snickers passed around the room, but stilled at a fierce glare from the Argonian. “All I know is that Master - Archmagister Traven told me to report to Raminus Polus.” Now a hush fell over the aspiring students, and their stares turned from amusement to something else.

“Sso he did!” Tar-Meena winked at me. “Put thesse kidss in their place, no?” she whispered sibilantly. “None of them are meeting with the Steward to the Magess Council, nor have they ever sspoken with so exalted a perssonage as the Archmagisster himsself!”

I winced. So much for keeping a low profile. Everywhere I go . . . “I didn’t intend to . . .”

“Never mind,” Tar-Meena shook her finger at me as she continued to draw me after her toward one of the rear doors. “Let’s go find Raminuss and get thingss sstarted. Then we will get you enrolled in ssomething!”

I hesitated briefly as she stepped through the portal into the part of the University open only to mages. But at her impatient gesture, I followed her through the door out onto a circular terrace that embraced the rear part of the Archmagister’s Tower. Popping, crackling sounds reached my ears as I inhaled deeply of the cold, damp air typical of winter on the Imperial Isle. People of all races, wearing green baggy robes or tailored blue robes strolled around. Here and there small clusters of two or three mages stood engaged in intense conversation, their hands sometimes gesturing, sometimes spurring magicka into visibility. Tall Altmeri and slender Bretons seemed to predominate, but I was encouraged to see a couple of Redguards as well. So maybe I won’t stand out so much, after all.

One of the blue-robed mages turned, his brown hair shining darkly in the winter air. I recognized the weathered face and brown eyes of Raminus Polus as his gaze met ours. A smile passed over his features, and he spoke something to his companions. As they drifted away, he strode quickly over to us.

“Julian!” He greeted me warmly. “Finally! I can’t tell you how delighted I am that you are finally here.” He nodded at Tar-Meena, who bowed respectfully to him before moving away. “Come, let’s get the paperwork started. Several of our examiners are free at the moment, so we should be able to expedite things quickly for you.”

“Um, examiners?” I repeated. Paperwork I understood, having dealt with plenty of it as pilus in the Legion. But the thought of exams gave me the shivers. I hated answering esoteric questions that lacked relevance to the practical reality I dealt with every day.

Polus must have sensed something of my unease. “Merely an assessment of your skills,” he advised. “We want to have an idea of your strengths and weaknesses, as well as learn your primary areas of interest. This will help us develop a plan for your course of study.” He winked at me almost playfully. “No need having you study basic destruction when you have already advanced to shock spells!”

I glanced sharply at him, wondering how he knew my magical repertoire. Did he see me in action? When?

“I am a battlemage, remember,” he reminded me gently as he led me down from the balcony toward one of the tall buildings backed into the encircling wall. “I fought in the Temple District alongside the Palace Guard. Many of us did.” We walked across a verdant garden, mostly green this time of the year. I caught a mingling of scents from various alchemical plants and glanced around, seeking their locations. To my amazement, every green plant within sight was instantly recognizable from The Pocket Guide to Cyrodiilic Flora.

“We maintain an extensive Alchemical Garden,” Polus caught my interest. “Julienne Fanis is looking forward to meeting you. She is talking about recreating the Fire of Life potions your mother used to make.”

“I- I’m not certain I recall the recipe,” I began, but Polus shushed me with a gesture.

“Fanis loves an alchemical challenge. I’m certain the two of you together can accomplish something.” He led me into the building. Without hesitation Polus started up the stairs, nodding briefly to the two mages who stared at me curiously. “Come in,” he waved me into a small room. “Have a seat,” he pointed me to the chair beside the desk. He lowered the drop leaf and began rummaging in the pigeonholes. “Where is it?” He pulled sheets of papers out, glanced through them, then placed them back before moving to the next compartment. “Where did she put the blasted things?” he muttered to himself, intense concentration on his face. Suddenly his expression transformed into victory. “Aha! Here we go!” He placed the sheet down, seated himself, and opened the bottle of ink. Dipping his quill into the black liquid, he scribbled on the form. “Let’s see, it’s the eight of Morning Star, four ee one.” Now he looked up at me.

“What is your registered name?”

“Julian, of Anvil,” I replied. “No surname. Mother never gave us one.”

Polus worked as efficiently as any bureaucrat as we worked through the admissions form. At the bottom of the first page, he waved his left hand over the sheet. The gleaming ink dried beneath the green flickering from his fingers, and he shuffled the sheaf to the second page. “Hmm,” his eyes scanned the paper. “Best you fill this out yourself,” he rose to his feet and motioned for me to take his seat. “Take your time, Julian.”

I obeyed his unspoken command. Seated before the desk, I picked up the page and squinted at the tiny characters. Polus waved his fingers at the candle, and the light increased to a more comfortable level. He stepped back as I studied the application.

Hmm. A list of spells I know. How long I have known each spell. How often I use each spell. Areas of interest. Why do I want to study at the Arcane University? Why do I want to study my chosen areas of interest? Gods! I hate essay questions!

I put my head down and bent to my work. The first part came easily with a little thought. For my areas of interest, I wrote Restoration and Alchemy. But the last two questions gave me pause. Why do I want to study at the Arcane University? Haven’t I learned plenty on my own? I’ve learned how to heal animals from Marz and Cirroc, how to restore magicka on all creatures. The Pocket Guide to Cyrodiilic Flora has expanded on the little knowledge I absorbed from my mother. So why do I want to study here?

“There are no right or wrong answers, Julian,” Polus’s voice quietly cut through my puzzlement. “Only what you feel or think. This is not that kind of examination. We have none of that here.” He chuckled softly to himself. “Despite what some of our instructors may think.”

Finally I finished my writing, and set the quill down carefully on its little rest. My head ached from the effort to fit all my scribblings into the tiny spaces allocated for the answers. As Polus scanned over the sheet, I rubbed my eyes with finger and thumb.

“‘Because everyone expects me to?’” Polus repeated my words. “Is that why you want to study at the Arcane University?”

“Why should I want to?” I countered. “My mother was an alchemist without any formal training beyond what she learned in Hammerfell. Everything I’ve learned about healing has been from the Chapel Healers. And I’ve healed some pretty bad injuries.”

“But have you ever wondered why things work the way they do?” Polus met my gaze from his place beside the diamond-paned window. Beyond I could see gathering clouds chasing away the blue sky.

“Yes, but as long as things work the way they’re supposed to work, what does it matter?” I countered.

Polus’s brow lifted. “What if things don’t work the way they’re supposed to? What then?”

“Ah, well . . .” For some reason my mind darted back to the buried halls of Sancre Tor and my battles with the undead Blades. The unexpected behavior of Casnar’s undead bones and how I had to adapt my fighting tactics to counter his, and how he had adapted to mine so quickly.

“You have a curious mind, Julian,” Polus stepped beside me to search through the pigeonholes again. He found what he sought and held it up to the light. “‘Julian has asked fundamental questions about the Sigil Stones and her experiences with them. How are they fueled? What makes them stronger the longer they keep a Gate open? If they are fed by mortal souls much as Mundane soul gems are, what happens to those souls when a Sigil Stone is used to enchant an object?’”

I blinked in surprise at hearing my questions to Carahil echoed in Polus’s voice. Did she tell Polus what I was asking? I was merely curious if she knew the answers! “That was just idle speculation, sir,” I muttered.

“Idle speculation!” Polus exclaimed. “What about this? ‘Julian has expressed a strong interest in the quality of magicka possessed by those considered dumb beasts. Unlike most of her race, she does not consider them lacking in intelligence. Though she seems surprised to learn that others share her opinion as well.’”

“That was Marz,” I inhaled slowly. “She taught me how to restore Paint’s magicka after that will o’wisp attack.”

“Echoed by Cirroc and Orania at Bruma,” Polus fingered a few other sheets of parchment. “Already I am forming a clear idea of your skills and talents, Julian. But have you ever asked why anyone would want to study at the Arcane University?”

I thought back to my conversations with various mages. J’skar’s voice purred in my memories: If you can get to the Arcane University, they let you make your own spells there. Athragar’s enthusiasm for the opportunity: Training and spells, training and spells. It gets so boring after a while; maybe someday I'll be able to move to the Arcane University. Adrienne’s fascination with books: You should see the library they have there! It's the only place worth visiting in the Imperial City, if you ask me. I only make the trip if I can't find a specific book here. “Everyone has different reasons for wanting to study here, I suppose,” I said finally. “To craft new spells. To read new books.” Little heel-pounding Jeanne popped into my mind’s eye. “To meet powerful people.”

“None of those appeal to you?” Those somber brown eyes held the faintest twitch of humor.

“Let’s say I fail to understand that sort of appeal, sir,” I answered. “But as for myself, I only want to learn restoration and alchemy so I can become a better healer.”

“Why a healer?” Polus replaced the parchments in the desk and motioned for me to follow him. “Why not a battlemage? You certainly have the combat experience, and Boderi Faram is certainly interested in speaking with you.”

“No more fighting for me,” I shook my head. “I’m done.”

“That’s a good enough answer,” Polus nodded approvingly. “But that’s not to say your experience can’t be of benefit, if only for training the youngsters. I’ll let Boderi speak to you about that.”