The Story of Trey- Chapter 1 Options

[treydog]

The Story of Trey

Me that ‘ave been what I’ve been
Me that ‘ave gone where I’ve gone
Me that ‘ave seen what I’ve seen …
Me

Chant-Pagan, English Irregular, Discharged
Rudyard Kipling

Chapter 1

My name is Trey, and this is my story. As I sit in my stronghold and look at the nicked swords, still glowing with enchantment; the battered alchemy apparatus; the books and scrolls; I am reminded how it was that I, a Breton of High Rock, came to be a power in Vvardenfell, a land of which I had never heard. This is the story of how I came to Morrowind and what happened after.

I never knew my parents. My mother, who died giving birth to me, was said to have been a hedge witch of no great fame or talent. Of my father, the most that could be said was that he was a sometime bard, sometime thief, full time scoundrel who didn't even leave a name behind for his son. My talents I inherited from my mother, my tendencies from my father. For family, I had an inn-keeper and his wife, who took payment for their "charity" out of my hide and out of my free labor. Slavery is illegal in the Empire, they say. You couldn't prove it by me. At 17, I took the 3 drakes from the cash box, the horse from the stable, and my life to Cyrodiil. My thought was that a fellow of my obvious talents should have no trouble finding fortune in the Imperial City. Fortune I found, in plenty. Misfortune.

My intention was to earn a few coins with my herb lore, perhaps pick up a few useful spells, and so, become apprentice to a mage or alchemist. But the first thing I discovered upon arrival was that everything came at a price- 1 drake to even get in the city gate. When I looked for a livery stable to put up the horse, they wanted 5 for the week! "Very well," I said, "How much will you give me for the horse?"
The ostler walked around the old roan, checked his teeth, hooves, and legs, stared into space and said, "15, and I'm doin' you a favor."

Young I may have been, but not that young.

"Forty, and I get to sleep in the loft for the week."

After a long negotiation, I was richer by 27 drakes, minus a horse, and free in the Imperial City. A place to sleep I would have to find on my own. I wandered the streets the rest of the day, seeking an inn. Some turned me away based on my clothes, others were too dear. Near dusk, I came upon a park filled with herbs and flowers.

"Here now." thought I, "This is a chance to use my skills to earn some money. No doubt these city people have no idea of the properties of these plants." So I spent the remaining light gathering my pockets full of seeds, blooms, and pods. Finally, tired from my labors, I sought a tree under which to sleep. Later, feeling something poking me in the back, I made to turn so as to get away from what I thought was a tree root. The poking became harder and more insistent. Then came a voice:

"Time to get up, Blondie. We have a room all ready for you."

It was a pair of gods-forsaken Imperial guards, and the "root" was the butt of a spear. It seemed that sleeping in the park was against the rules. Well, maybe a cell wouldn't be so bad. I should have known that nothing was free or easy in the Imperial City.

Once we reached the prison, a bored sergeant said,

"What have we got here, boys? An axe-murderer? Perhaps the mastermind behind the ebony smuggling ring?"

"No, Sarge. Just another vagrant sleeping in the city park. We'll head back out on patrol."

"All right, Breton, let's see what's in those pockets," said the sergeant.

Remember what I said about nothing being easy?

After all the plant material was laid on his desk, the sergeant said, "Do you know that the parks are considered the property of the Emperor? Do you know that there are severe penalties for stealing from the Emperor? Well, it's too late for court tonight. But we won't take any chances with you. Darfa, got a customer for you."

A man in mage's robes came out from a side room, carrying a bracer that glowed with enchantment. As he locked the bracer around my wrist, I could feel the magicka drain out of me. That would make things a bit more difficult, but not necessarily impossible, depending on how closely they searched me. They took all my cash, "for safe-keeping," but missed the lock-picks I had hidden in my mouth and hair. Good to keep in mind, but for now I had a bed out of the elements. Into the cell I went. Wooden bunk, wooden bucket in the corner, no blankets. Welcome to the big city. There was nothing for it, so I curled up on the bunk and slept.

The next morning, breakfast. Gruel, but there were no bugs in it, so I ate. Then I was rousted out to go see the magistrate. In the courtroom, I waited as other prisoners were hustled forward, asked to state their names, home provinces, and lineage. Then a bailiff read off a list of charges and the magistrate pronounced sentence. It quickly became clear that the only verdict was, "Guilty." If you got arrested, you had done it. The more I watched, the angrier I got. Why even bother to have a "trial" when the answer was already decided?

Finally, it was my turn. "Prisoner, state your name, province, and parentage."

All the anger over what had happened got the best of me, I guess. Or maybe I just naturally have a big mouth...

"Trey of High Rock, son of Nona Yerbisnes and Gofor Kyerself."

Whack! A spear haft whipped across the back of my legs and sent me to my knees.

"You are accused of vagrancy, vandalism of an Imperial park, and theft of Imperial property. In addition, your actions in this court constitute assault on an Imperial official and disturbing the peace. I find you guilty and sentence you to a fine of..." a whispered conference with the guard... "29 drakes and 30 days at hard labor. Next case."

If I hadn't mentioned it before, I really hate Imperials.

Back we went to the prison. This time, I watched everything. No way were they going to get 30 days of free labor from me. I counted guards, noticed which doors were locked, even spotted a very interesting chest marked "Evidence". Fortunately, there was no labor detail on court day, so I was taken back to my cell, where I could plot my escape. To this day, I wonder what would have happened if I had just given them their 30 days.

At dusk, the guard brought a scoop of water and a chunk of bread. I settled down to wait. The time passed slowly and the prison at last grew quiet. I pulled the lock-pick from my mouth and tried the magicka-draining bracer. No luck, the lock was too complex, a type I had never seen before. Ah well, I really didn't want to take the time to recover my magicka anyway.

The lock on the cell door wasn't so much of a problem, and I found myself in the corridor. Soft-footed, I eased to the door of the guard-room. I listened carefully and heard nothing. Slowly, I opened the door to an empty room. There was just enough time to check that evidence chest, and then I would be on my way.
The lock on the evidence chest proved to be more than my tools and skills could handle, so I gave it up and returned to the most important thing- getting away. Again, I listened at the door to the street and heard nothing. With a careful touch I opened the door just enough to slide out into the street and... the light from half-a-dozen lanterns pinned me in a glare like daylight. Behind the lanterns I could see cross-bows held steady, pointed at my chest. Then a guard captain stepped into the light and said,

"That's him, sir. That's Trey of High Rock."

[treydog]

Um.... wow? I had never seriously considered reposting the first chapters, even after the Fan Forge went pear-shaped. Now I can see that was yet one more error in judgment....

@hazmick- Thank you so much. I hope you find this story enjoyable. You will probably learn a bit about the forces that shaped Athlain as you read about his father.

@Destri- I never say it enough- but your talent as a writer awes me. Therefore, to get such praise from someone who I admire is... beyond words. If I know a secret about writing- one which took me too long to learn- it is this... write a story you would love to read. From the moment I scribbled those first words on the back of a page from my "slush pile" at work, Trey took on a life and personality that I could not hope to contain, only to try and chronicle.

A/N- Near the end, Trey mentions the smell of Vvardenfell. That bit of scene-setting comes from talks with a number of Vietnam veterans. Thank you all for your service and for sharing your experiences.

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A heavily cloaked and hooded figure stepped into the light, flanked by crossbow-wielding guards. Even from beneath the hood, I could feel the intensity of his gaze. A commanding voice from somewhere behind the hooded person spoke,

"Very well, Trey. You can come quietly under your own power... or just quietly." At the last phrase, the stranger touched an amulet at his throat. I shrugged -carefully- and replied,

"You're the boss. Where am I going?"

One of the guards blew a whistle and I heard a carriage come up the street. Another guard stepped forward with a cheap (and smelly) cloak, which he threw over me. Then he pulled the hood down to conceal my face. The darkened carriage pulled up and the captain said,

"Inside, Breton. We're going for a ride."

As the door was opened, I caught a glimpse of a coat of arms that had been blacked out. It might have been a dragon. Or perhaps not. Four guards climbed in with me and two more rode on the outside of the carriage. Someone wasn't taking any chances. Who did they think I was? My few attempts to ask questions or start a conversation were met with stony silence. These people must really take their flowers seriously, I thought.

Hours later, I became aware of an odd smell, like dead fish and salt. The carriage wheels rattled off the cobblestones and onto wooden planks. Low voices called orders and the doors were opened. We were on a dock, with a low, single-masted ship lying alongside. No lights were burning on board and only one man was on deck. As I stepped down, the guards surrounded me and hustled me up the gang plank. From a second carriage came the mysteriously cloaked figure as well as a mage. At a nod from the cloaked stranger, the guards thoroughly searched me, finding both of my hidden lock picks. Then, to my surprise, they unlocked the bracer from my wrist and stepped back. Before I could react, the mage came forward, raised an amulet, and spoke words I couldn't understand. I felt my knees turn to water and fell forever into darkness.

How long I slept I don't know. The dreams I had were unlike any I had ever known. A barren, blighted land was suddenly washed with healing rain and bloomed anew; a voice spoke strange words of comfort, words that seemed at once strange and yet familiar. I felt as if I were in the grip of a terrible fever, yet at peace as I never had been before.

The next I knew, a raspy voice was saying, "Wake up. We're here. Are you okay? Why are you shaking?"

Awakening, I almost feared that my dream had turned to nightmare. Facing me was an elf like none I'd ever seen. He had skin the color of ash, one red eye, and a nasty scar crossing the other eye socket. Still, he seemed concerned for me. His next words were, "Even last night's storm couldn't wake you. I heard them say we've reached Morrowind. I'm sure they'll let us go. What's your name?"

I just had time to tell him, "Trey," and to hear his response, "Jiub," when a guard approached.

"They want you up on deck," he growled, displaying just as much personality as every other guard I had met. With a shrug to Jiub, I followed the guard through the lower hold and then the upper and finally onto the deck. That was my first glimpse of Morrowind, the place where my life would change beyond my imagining, a place of dreams and nightmares, loyalty and betrayal, blood and magic. Before I was even aware of the sights and sounds, I was assaulted- there's no other word- by the smell. Humidity, vegetation green and rotting, fish left too long in the sun, cooking fires. The smell said to me, deep down, "Trey, you are very far from home."

I took a moment to look around and saw docks, thatch-roofed buildings, a lighthouse, and something that looked like a giant flea with- was that a PERSON up there? I had a feeling I had just dropped myself deep into the privy pit.

The Redguard standing watch on deck pointed me down the gangplank to the dock with the words, "This is where they want you. Head down to the dock and he'll show you to the Census Office."

The guard on the dock must have been blind or drunk- he asked me where I was from. For once, I decided to just answer the question and not be my usual sarcastic self. Maybe travel really was an education.

In a bored voice the guard responded, "I'm sure you'll fit right in."

With those words, he took me up to the building and indicated that I was to go in. Inside was yet another guard and an officious clerk by the name of Socucius Ergalla. He said they'd been expecting me and proceeded to ask me a bunch of nosy questions about my abilities and preferences. Even when I felt inclined to lie, I couldn't. It must have been some leftover effect of whatever spell that mage cast on me back in Cyrodiil. Anyway, under that strange compulsion, I told the Census fellow that I preferred Stealth and long blades, and that I knew a little alchemy and some minor spells. There was a lot more and afterwards I felt as if I had been paraded naked through the town. This wasn’t a Census; it was an Inquistion.

Finally, he asked for my birth sign. "The Tower," I said, wondering why he cared. I decided if he invited me to meet him for a drink later, I would take a swing at him, guard or no guard. But no, it was just more of the Empire's nonsense. He asked me to check over the papers and then said four words that caught my interest, "...collect your release fee." That had a nice sound. I wondered what sort of money they were talking- maybe the 29 drakes they had stolen from me back in Cyrodiil?

The guard unlocked an inner door and told me to go on through to the next building and talk to Sellus Gravius. I stepped into an empty hallway and casually swung the door shut. Alone at last, I took a moment to examine my surroundings. I saw a short hallway with one small room off to the right and a few steps down straight ahead. I decided to check out the right-hand room first. It appeared to be a small dining room, with food and plates still on the table. Stuck into the table was an iron dagger. Short blades were not my favorite weapon, but anything was better than bare knuckles. There was also some nice silverware and some local liquor. Best of all, someone had carelessly left a lock pick lying around. I palmed the pick and noticed a cheap money box on the bottom shelf. I decided that it was only right that I check the quality of their lock. After all, if that evil-looking elf from the ship came through after me, he'd probably just pocket whatever he found. Better for a fine upstanding Breton like myself to hold any valuables. Inside were 31 drakes. This was outstanding, my first day in a new town and I had already turned a profit. I quickly decided that if I could find a sack, I would also "protect" the better silverware, the alcohol, and the alchemy ingredients before some thief came along.

Down the steps I found a storeroom with a few sacks of ingredients. I borrowed one of the sacks and bagged everything up. Then I paused. There was no way all these guards were going to let a prisoner fresh off the boat stroll through with a sack full of loot. The memory of how they had piled on for a few flowers was fresh in my mind. After all, that was what had gotten me sent here- or so I thought. "Time to be a bit careful, Old Son," I said to myself. "Let's get the lay of the land first." So I placed the bag out of sight and carefully opened the door leading from the small dining room. For a change, it seemed that luck was with me- the door opened to a small, blessedly EMPTY yard, an empty yard with a rain barrel. Rain barrels are a wonderful place to temporarily keep things that might lead to embarrassing questions and even more embarrassing answers.

Apparently, someone else had had the same idea- inside the barrel was a ring of healing. I was beginning to like this place. Maybe the frontier was more suited to my temperament. So, with nothing in my hands except my release papers, I stepped into the next building. Oh joy,I muttered to myself as I saw yet another Legion officer. He took my papers and gave me back a sealed package, a set of directions, and, amazingly, 87 gold. Apparently concerned that I couldn't read, he explained the directions to me.

"Go to Balmora. Deliver this package to Caius Cosades. I don't know where he is. I don't know what it's about. I follow orders. I love the Emperor."

The directions made for some interesting reading. One section in particular caught my eye:

"Remember. You owe your life and freedom to the Emperor. Serve him well, and you will be rewarded. Betray him, and you will suffer the fate of all traitors."

I thought to myself, "Captain, you may enjoy being the Emperor's errand boy, but I have other plans." I figured I would drop off the package just to get them off my back and also to discover what in Oblivion this was all about, but I would do it in my own time. My priority was to get some cash and to scout this place out. Surely there would be some opportunities. The captain didn't seem to have anything more to say, so I excused myself, mumbling something about needing to step into the courtyard for a second. He ignored me as I casually carried the bag full of the Empire's silverware and liquor through the door. Part of being a successful thief is to act like you belong wherever you are and that you should be doing exactly what you're doing. Either I was getting better at it or else he just didn't care. Either way, I calmly stepped out into about the sorriest collection of shacks I had ever seen and a new life.

This post has been edited by treydog: Jan 31 2015, 10:03 PM