The Story of Trey- Chapter 5 Options

[treydog]

How do we forgive our Fathers?
Maybe in a dream
Do we forgive our Fathers for leaving us too often or forever
When we were little?
…
If we forgive our Fathers, what is left?

Dick Lourie, from How Do We Forgrive Our Fathers in Ghost Radio

The only reason I knew that I had been born during Frostfall was an entry at the local Temple of Kynareth having to do with my mother's burial. Under 3E 408, the chronicle stated: "Riassa, Breton hedge witch. Died in childbed, Frostfall. Male child, healthy. Father unknown. Child placed with Greldig and wife, at Foaming Flagon Inn." I only learned that much after I had learned to read and do simple sums. Then, when I turned 15 (as I was able to determine from the dates in the chronicle), the powers of my birthsign began to manifest themselves. I was able to open locked doors with a touch and to sense the locations of creatures, keys, and enchanted items. The alchemist who taught me my letters explained the significance of these abilities and confirmed that my sign was The Tower. There were no "official" celebrations of my birthdays, of course. After I learned the proper month, I would treat myself to a gift - usually a potion made from local plants, or a book if the peddler happened to have one I hadn't read- bartered for some of those same potions. It was not until much later that I was to find that the exact date of my birth, precise even to the hour, was known. In fact, it was known to none other than Uriel Septim VII, himself. As for information about my (probable) father, that came from the inn-keeper, usually when he referred to me as, "You bastard son of a thieving bard." Apparently, I was following in my father's footsteps when I took the contents of the cash-box and disappeared into the night.

Once I learned of my birth month, it became my habit to spend part of my "birthdays" planning, dreaming, considering my past and future. So, as the first day of Frostfall dawned, I considered the past year, particularly the last couple of months. I had come far since I took that nap in the park in the Imperial City- both geographically and in terms of professional advancement. I was in good standing in a couple of guilds; I had joined the Tribunal Temple; and had been "volunteered" into the Blades. Somehow, it wasn't enough. Even if I had friends in those factions, I was mostly just another worker. And with advancement in the guilds would come responsibility. If I advanced too far, I would rarely be able to get out in the world. Thieving was a game for a young man- I could continue for many years, but my reflexes and eyesight would betray me some day. It was also clear to me that I should expect to be in Morrowind for a long time to come. When I was first hustled off the boat in Seyda Neen, I had assumed that I would be able to go home in a few years. But where was home, now? Certainly not the inn in High Rock. Perhaps I could become one of those eccentric old alchemists who lived in a tower in the wilderness and blew things up about once a week. But that sounded awfully lonely. Home was supposed to be the place where you had family, where people were sorry to see you go and happy to see you return. As I reviewed all the bits and pieces I had heard about Morrowind, I remembered that the Great Houses sometime adopted "outlanders" and considered them the same as blood-kin. The idea of being part of a family brought a strange lump to my throat- I had been many things in my short life, but "family" had never been one of them.

If I were to join a Great House, I would need to think it through carefully. You could only ever have your name entered in the lists of one House; even if you were later expelled, the others were forever closed to you. Through conversations with Caius and others, I had gleaned this much- Hlaalu was the House most closely associated with the Empire. They valued many of the skills that I possessed. House Redoran was the most traditional and most honorable. They were considered a "warrior" house. House Telvanni was composed of ancient wizards, and was considered elitist. Only highly skilled mages should consider attempting membership or advancement. The first thing I decided to do was to narrow it down to two- it would be easier to decide. Although I enjoyed Alchemy, and my Illusion and Mysticism were improving; I was not really a wizard. Also, as I understood it, the Telvanni were mostly based on the eastern side of Morrowind. I had grown somewhat fond of the area around Balmora and Vivec. So- that left Hlaalu and Redoran. Besides their interest in commerce, Hlaalu was reputed to be highly corrupt. In fact, some whispered that House Hlaalu was the real power behind the Camonna Tong. Redoran took their ideas of honor very seriously and applied them rigorously- I had to wonder how an unreformed and unrepentant thief would fit in. As I understood it, to get very far in a Great House, an outlander needed the support of a councilor. The only answer was research- I would find the names of the councilors for the two Houses and talk to them.

The seat of House Hlaalu was Balmora; I had already spoken with Nileno Dorvayn after I had "avenged" Ralen Hlaalo's murder. With that in mind, I recalled back to Balmora and went to the Hlaalu Council Hall to ask about the Great House. Nileno gave me a copy of the Yellow Book of House Hlaalu, which listed the names of the councilors. She also offered to give me the "inside scoop" for a bribe of 50 drakes. I had sold a few excess ingredients to raise money after my book-buying spree, so I paid the graft. My 50 gold bought me the information that Crassius Curio was the councilor to see if I wanted anything. He was located in Vivec, with a manor house at the top of the Hlaalu enclave. House Redoran was based in Ald'ruhn, so I had Masilinie teleport me there. A Redoran guard explained that all the councilors maintained homes or quarters in the Manor District "under Skar." It turned out that Skar was the hollow shell of an absolutely huge "Emperor crab," and that it housed the Redoran Council Hall as well as most of the councilors' manors and the finer shops in Ald'ruhn. The person to talk to was someone named Neminda, who could be found in the Council Hall. She turned out to be a Redguard, who identified herself as a Drillmaster and Recruiter for Redoran. Her manner was somewhat abrupt until I complimented her eyes, after which she warmed up nicely. Perhaps those romance novels were good for something, after all. She gave me a copy of the Red Book of House Redoran, which listed the councilors and their residences. She didn't request a bribe, but did say that Athyn Sarethi would be the best person to talk to about House Redoran. I followed her advice and visited Sarethi Manor. The Redorans were a stiff-necked bunch, but polite and informative. I still wasn't sure how well I would get along with a bunch of warriors and crusaders, so I went to Vivec to see Crassius Curio.

He may have been a powerful councilor in a powerful House, but Crassius was a peculiar fellow. The first thing he said to me was,

"Call me Uncle Crassius."

Odd, but I supposed I could put up with odd. Then he called me "sweetie" and "dumpling." That went beyond odd, straight past peculiar, and over to the extreme side of weird. I had met a few people who I wished would call me pet names- this heavyset Imperial with a beard was not one of them. Although my skills were far more suited to Hlaalu, I just couldn't bring myself to join them. It went beyond Crassius- their association with the Camonna Tong also made me nervous. Then there was their attitude that it was acceptable to do anything to achieve an advantage or make money- including being involved in the slave trade. Even though I was a thief, I had some scruples. For one thing, I wouldn't steal from or plot against my own people. The same couldn't be said for House Hlaalu- I wondered which Hlaalu councilor Ralen Hlaalo had crossed. The avarice and backstabbing of Hlaalu reminded me painfully of the “foster family” I had abandoned in High Rock. After due consideration, I chose House Redoran, even though it would be the harder path. Their concept of honor made more sense to me and I would work to learn the skills they valued. I wanted a chance to prove that not all "outlanders" were Imperial oppressors. Most of all, I wanted a chance to become part of a family for the first time.

[treydog]

As I teleported back to Balmora, I seethed over his dismissive attitude. But then, what else did I really expect from the Imperial Legion? They could polish their armor and march in a straight line, but that was about it. And they could cause trouble for a working thief. But when it came to handling real crime, they were useless. All I had gotten for my trouble was to be called a liar and then told to handle it myself. No wonder the Empire was on the verge of collapse. According to the histories, it used to be that a citizen of the Empire could walk anywhere without fear. Everybody knew that the Legion would bring down so much pain so swiftly that it wasn't worth it to threaten, rob, or injure a citizen. It looked like those days were over. I had been dragged here without even being asked and now that I was finally settling in, I was told to go somewhere else. Well, I wasn't going to do it. "Go to Mournhold to seek answers." To Oblivion with that- this was my home now. I did decide to move out of the Balmora Mages Guild- they had completely ignored the attacks. Redoran maintained a hostel in Ald'ruhn- I would find quarters there. And even if Redoran couldn't protect me, they would be better company. When I reached the Council Hall, Neminda asked if I could spare a moment once I had gotten settled. When I returned to see the Drillmaster, it seemed that word of my deeds at Ald Velothi and Ashalmawia had reached her. She promoted me to Lawman and asked if I was ready for more work. I couldn't think of anything that would suit me better- I needed to get the bad taste of dealing with that Imperial idiot out of my mouth. My success in finding Malexa caused the Drillmaster to believe I might be able to succeed in another search and rescue.

It seemed that a trader named Mathis Dalobar worked a monthly run between Ald'ruhn, Gnisis, and Maar Gan. He was overdue in Maar Gan, and Neminda suggested I go there and work my way back toward Ald'ruhn to see if I could discover what had happened. I took the silt strider to Maar Gan; that was better than trying to go on foot, what with the blowing ash and the increasing number of beasts coming through the Ghostfence. When I reached the little town, most people there seemed to think that Mathis had been caught in a severe ash storm that had blown up a few days earlier. However, no one seemed to have any idea where he might have been when the storm started. They all told me that the only thing to do was seek the nearest shelter. Finally, an Orc at the Andus Tradehouse remarked that he had seen someone leading a string of pack guar toward the Rothan Tomb just ahead of the storm. The tomb was south of Maar Gan, not too far from the Ald'ruhn road. That appeared to be the best lead I was going to get; if it didn't turn out, I was going to have to search every tomb, cave, or ruin between Maar Gan and Ald'ruhn. As I left the town, the ash was still blowing, but had settled somewhat. Walking was difficult, but not impossible. Having been told that the Rothan Tomb was "to the right of the road," I climbed the slight rise to that side so that I could see better in the limited visibility. Soon enough, I spotted a tomb entrance cut into the hillside. The runes indicated that it was, in fact, Rothan. Blown ash had drifted across the door, making it impossible to open from inside. Using my shield as an improvised shovel, I was able to scrape away the ash and then blocked the door open with a stone. As my eyes grew accustomed to the dim light inside, I saw a Dunmer standing on the steps. It was Mathis Dalobar. He explained that the ash storm had caught him and that he had lost all his goods, as well as his pack guar. Still, he was happy to have survived, and asked me to escort him to the shrine at Maar Gan so he could give thanks to the ancestors and the Tribunal. Although the ash was still swirling outside, we made the trip without difficulty. I asked Mathis how he could give thanks when he had lost everything, and he replied," "What are things? Trade goods? Pack beasts? I had them; I lost them; I will get more. But my life? I only have one, and so, I give thanks that it was spared."

I had no answer to that, but it gave me much to think about. As I made my way to the silt strider, a Dunmer accosted me, saying he was a "Sleeper" and spouting some nonsense about Dagoth Ur. I told him that I had already donated and that he should go home and sleep it off. Strange- I had thought those fellows were only around Balmora. Whatever was causing this behavior, it was spreading. Someone really needed to find the source of these problems and fix it. Meanwhile, I had other matters to consider. In fact, over the next several days, I would find reason to think deeply about matters of life... and death.

When I made it back to Ald'ruhn, Neminda had a mission that required careful handling. It seemed that a Hlaalu guard named Alvis Teri had stolen a sacred artifact, called a Founder's Helm, from a Redoran tomb. Even worse, he was wearing the Helm and bragging about the theft at the Eight Plates in Balmora. The honor of House Redoran demanded that the Founder's Helm be returned, but it was equally important that the Hlaalu not be murdered. The Eight Plates was known to me- I had done a bit of juggling there to earn extra cash. When I entered, Alvis Teri was easy to recognize- he was the only one in the place wearing a full suit of armor. He recognized me as a Redoran, and was inclined to be rude, but I wanted to resolve this stupidity peacefully if I could. I used every bit of persuasion I could muster, but he wouldn't budge. When I finally offered an outrageous bribe, the stubborn fellow had the audacity to say, "My honor is not for sale."

That was just too much, coming from a member of Hlaalu, a House well-known for their corruption. Enraged , I replied, "The only reason you can't place a value on your 'honor' is because everyone knows it is worthless. If you money-grubbing shop-keepers could sell it, you already would have."

That, plus the fact that Alvis had already had a few drinks before I got there, caused the fool to attack me. That had not been my intention- but I did not shrink from the fight. I did let the lout draw first blood, just to demonstrate what true honor meant. His ambition was not matched by his skill- the biggest problem I had was the bar patrons who kept blocking me. Somehow, they never seemed to get in my opponent's way. Still, none of them actually attacked me, so I had to be careful not to swing wildly and start a general brawl. I didn't think Neminda would be too pleased if I came back and reported killing half of Balmora. Despite the distractions, the fight was quickly over and I wrenched the Founder's Helm from the dead Hlaalu's body. Why didn't the fool just sell the blasted relic to me? If his "honor" had truly been involved, I would have understood. But it wasn't as if I had tried to buy a piece of his House armor- the Helm was stolen property. And no stolen item, no matter how special, is worth dying over. If you get caught, you give up the goods and pay the fine. And you learn not to get caught anymore or else you go into a different line of work. If he had had more honor, he wouldn't have stolen the Helm in the first place. And if he had been a better thief, he wouldn't have bragged about the theft. And most of all, if he had had any sense, he wouldn't have died for it. Amateurs always make life harder for professionals. I was angry with Alvis for giving me no choice and I was angry with myself for not handling him better. Still, it was important that I get the Founder's Helm back in the right hands, so I returned to Ald'ruhn and went to Neminda. She was not at all unhappy about the outcome, and promoted me to Kinsman. She also told me to not worry so much about it- that Alvis had brought it on himself.

That was easy enough to say, but with Mathis' words about faith in my mind and the Hlaalu's blood on my hands, I felt the need to do something to atone. I might not trust the Temple completely, but perhaps my sincerity would be enough to reach whatever gods or spirits there were. Even if they sent me into another Daedric shrine or asked me to face a Dremora lord, it would feel "cleaner." Unfortunately, the test Tuls Valen had in mind was of a different sort. It seemed that a man named Elvil Vidron in Suran had declared himself to be the "Nerevarine" and was preaching and prophesying. The Temple wanted it stopped and they didn't really care how. If I could not convince him of his error, I was supposed to kill him. In Tuls Valen's words,
"If he is the true Nerevarine, he is protected by prophecy and cannot die."

I made up my mind right then that I would not kill the fellow. He might be insane or he might really be a prophet, but I wasn't going to be the Temple's instrument of murder. Just because the government or the Temple ordered something didn't make it right. I had read enough by now to know that there were holes in Temple doctrine that you could drive a guar through. So it was up to me to find another way. Because Suran was some distance away, I rode the silt strider. Elvil wasn't hard to find- he was a shirtless Dunmer standing in the center of the town, preaching about destruction coming from Red Mountain. Not knowing how else to approach the issue, I asked him how he knew he wasn't a False Incarnate. He replied that it would be difficult to prove that he wasn't Nerevar reborn and that he had had the dreams. Then he gave me a piercing look and said, "And you- have you not also experienced the dream?"

I felt a chill run up my spine- for a moment, it was almost as if something ancient and wise and most definitely NOT human looked out of his eyes. Still, I recovered quickly; perhaps this was a way to fulfill the mission and yet not kill the poor fellow. So I responded, "Yes, but you are not the one I envisioned."

For the first time since we had begun talking, Elvil seemed uncertain. Finally, he decided that I was right, bowed his head and promised to do penance. He also thanked me for my wisdom and asked my forgiveness. This was a peculiar place- every time I thought I was beginning to understand it, something would happen that made no sense at all.

Still, Tuls Valen was very happy that I had managed to stop Elvil without violence- he gave me several Exclusive Restore Health potions as a reward. Considering how the Temple felt about giving anything away, I recognized that this was an auspicious gift. Even better, he advanced me several ranks to Adept. Valen then asked if I had completed the pilgrimage to the shrine at Maar Gan. I managed to not tell him that the only visit I had made there was to steal the propylon index. He instructed me to go to the shrine, read the inscription on the rock, and "imitate Vivec's actions." That seemed easy enough, so it was back to the giant flea and off to Maar Gan. I still didn't trust the striders- they had to get hungry sometime and I hadn't seen one eat, yet. I really didn't want to be the test case for whether or not they liked the taste of Breton.
The inscription on the rock detailed how Vivec had taunted Mehrunes Dagon, thus convincing the Daedra Prince to throw a huge rock at him instead of at the Dunmer. Standing off to the right of the shrine was the Dremora that had frightened me so badly when I first came here. Remembering Krazzt, I addressed the Dremora. His response was, "I am Anhaedra. If you are a pilgrim, read the inscription on the stupid rock."

A much ruder Dremora than the one in the Puzzle Canal. Of course, that had been the Shrine of Courtesy. Following Valen's instructions to "imitate Vivec," I taunted Anhaedra, who responded with some fairly imaginative (and disgusting) insults. Finally, he ran out of insults and attacked. I have a feeling he was a weakened Daedra- it was not difficult to best him. I returned to Ald'ruhn, where Tuls Valen rewarded me with another book, "Death Blow of Abernanit." I really liked the rewards the Temple provided- I had gotten two rare books already. My happiness didn't last long, though. Before I could get back to the Redoran hostel, a Bosmer who I had never seen before handed me a note and disappeared without a word. The note simply said, "Sources indicate the cost of Corkbulb Tea will rise soon. Best to get in early."

It was unsigned, but bore a secret mark known to those in the Thieves Guild. One thing I knew immediately- there was no such thing as Corkbulb Tea. That was a code phrase for the Camonna Tong. And in that context, what the note meant was that the Thieves Guild was expecting a major attack and that all members should get under cover as quickly as possible. One of the reasons I never considered joining the Imperial Legion was that I didn't much like them. But the other reason was more fundamental than that- I had never been any good at taking orders. And I was about to prove it again.