The Last Days of the Fashion Club Options

[WellTemperedClavier]

Chapter 1

A single lock of blond hair fell down on Jeval's brow, just a little left of center. He zeroed in on it, seeing his black eyes reflected back at him in his mom's polished brass mirror.

Is this what he wanted?

Because that little lock said a lot. It changed the image he'd sported for the past three years, made him look more daring, more relaxed. Not some kid any longer, but a man. Or at least a guy. A guy girls would want (he hoped). He'd already fixed up his outfit to reflect that: undid the two top buttons, loosened the threads around the cuffs. Enough to make him look chill without looking messy.

Quinn worked magic with this kind of thing. Jeval wasn't as good, but he'd picked up some tricks from her, things like how to take a tunic or a collar and get it to tell the story you wanted it to tell.

"Jeval, are you still at the mirror?" came his little sister's voice.

"Yeah, obviously," he said.

"Mom, I need to use it!"

Jeval sighed. Okay, he had to figure this out pretty quick. He brushed the lock to the side, giving the bare brow look one more chance.

"Jeval! Why in the world do you need to spend so much time grooming yourself?" Mom demanded, her voice carrying up from the kitchen, where she was busy heating up yesterday's stew for breakfast.

He turned his head to the door, where his sister Seleynia glared at him, and spoke over her. "Because looking good is important!"

Screw it. He didn't need this. Jeval let the lock fall, studied himself one more time, and stepped back.

"All yours, sis," he muttered.

"Weirdo," she muttered back.

He ambled down the adobe stairs and into the cramped kitchen. Mom looked at him through the steam rising from the big cookpot.

"Jeval, I know you want to look good, but isn't it a little odd for a man your age to spend that much time at the mirror?"

Jeval shrugged. "Shouldn't a man my age look good?"

Not like he had much choice. Skinny little Bosmer guys weren't exactly in high demand among girls in Morrowind. He had to make the most of what he had.

"A man your age should be working at a trade."

"I have a job!"

"Cleaning tables isn't a trade, Jeval. And you spend all your money on clothes and cosmetics!"

"Are you kidding me? I stretch every septim I get. Meanwhile, Seleynia breaks the bank each time she goes to the market—"

"Clothes are important for girls. They shouldn't be so important for you."

"Yeah, well, I dunno how to break this to you, but this isn't Valenwood. In Morrowind, people expect you to look sharp."

"Always good to look sharp!" Dad declared, stepping in from the street. He'd just come back from a big courier job to Gnisis the other day.

Dad pointed to his horns and flashed a file-toothed grin.

"Yeah, see?" Jeval said. Not like Dad didn't have his own agenda on this. But right now, Jeval would take whatever help came his way.

Mom frowned. "It's strange for a boy to spend that much time in front of the mirror. That's all I'm saying."

"You say that now, but just wait until he brings home some gorgeous Dunmer girl from a rich family. I bet he'll punch above his weight. Same as his old dad," Dad said, leaning in to give his wife a quick peck.

She rolled her eyes but smiled as she did it.

"You staying for breakfast?" Dad asked.

"No, I gotta work. Then I'm hanging out with my friends."

"Good, good."

Okay, he was free from them until late evening.

"Let's walk a bit," Dad said.

Or not.

Jeval and his dad entered the street outside their home, packed with the midday crowd. The autumn sun shone weakly above Balmora's sprawl, all its hundreds of brown adobe boxes and the thousands who lived inside them.

Jeval picked up the pace. He wasn't mad at Dad or anything. Just kind of didn't want to talk to anyone.

"Uh, no offense, but I might be running kind of late."

"We can jog," Dad offered.

Dad was a courier, so yeah, that'd be a cinch for him. No avoiding this parental conversation.

"Have you made any friends at work?" dad asked.

"I'm usually the only guy there my shift," Jeval lied.

"So still hanging with Quinn and the other girls?"

Jeval's heart sank. He knew where this was going. "Yeah. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing! Having friends who are girls is a good way to get girlfriends. But you've never dated any of them? Quinn, Satheri, uh… Tiphannia?"

"Uh, no. It'd be kind of weird." But even as he said it, he felt the warmth creep into his cheeks. Since yeah, he still kind of wanted Quinn. Not as much as he used to, but the feeling never totally went away.

"Don't get hung up on her, Jeval. There are a lot of girls out there. I'm sure Quinn can introduce you to someone. You're not interested in, uh, Treads, are you?"

"No," Jeval said, squeezing the word out between his clenched teeth.

"You do spend more time with her than the others. Look, I know things are done differently outside of Valenwood. And I'm open-minded. I'm just… not sure there are good long-term—"

"I'm not attracted to Argonians. She's not attracted to Mer. That's why she's my best friend. We can just chill."

"Okay, I believe you," Dad said, in a tone that suggested he did not, in fact, believe his son.

They turned the corner, going along the riverside market packed with the morning crowd. The thick and sour smell of roasting kwama rose from dozens of outdoor grills, mixing with the damp riverbank air. The Odai flowed thick and black beneath the Foreigner's Span, swollen by the recent rains. Nearby, a Dunmer priestess stood on a crate, denouncing the cult of the Nerevarine.

"Stay true to the Tribunal and the Temple teachings!" she proclaimed. "Heed not the lies from the House of Troubles, who take the memory of blessed St. Nerevar and twist it to their own foul ends!"

Jeval had been hearing a lot about the Nerevarine lately but didn't get what it was about. Something to do with an old prophecy that the Tribunal Temple didn't like. But he wasn't a Dunmer and he didn't worship the Tribunal, so whatever.

"What about coming with me on my next trip?" Dad asked.

"Huh?"

"You know, go with me on the job. You don't want to be serving drunks at the Lucky Lockup for the rest of your life."

Jeval thought about it a bit. Working as a courier would be interesting, at least. He didn't know if he wanted to hike that much. But he'd get used to it, right?

"Uh, maybe. When's your next job?"

"Don't know yet, but not long from now. I think you'd be good. Just have to build up your endurance. And I know all the tricks: how to figure out if a storm's coming—"

"Lift a finger to the wind and see if it's going to push the dark clouds toward you," Jeval said, remembering the many stories Dad had told him about his adventures on the road. He used to love those stories as a kid.

Hell, he still did.

"—how to negotiate with bandits—"

"Give a little cash to make them happy, but never let them corner you or take your cargo."

"—and why you should never camp out in an ancestral tomb."

"Because you'll get cursed or killed."

"Of course, you can always get un-cursed. But getting un-killed isn't usually an option. Sounds to me like you're ready for the job."

Jeval chuckled. Dad had charm. Jeval wished he could be like that.

"Can I think about it a bit?"

"Sure, but not too long. It's been months since you graduated. It's fine to rest a bit, but you have to keep moving forward."

"Uh huh. I know."

They turned the corner again, keeping some distance between them and the Council Club, where Dunmer gangsters glared down on them from the roof. The Lucky Lockup, haven to outlanders and weirdos, lay right next to it.

"Have a good one, son," Dad said.

"Yeah, you too," Jeval said.

He'd spend the rest of the day scrubbing corkbulb tables and serving drinks to rude people from all over Tamriel. At least he'd look better doing it.

He hoped.

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Jul 12 2025, 05:38 AM

[WellTemperedClavier]

Chapter 12

Over mud and pavement, across the Duke Vedam Dren Bridge, and through the driving rain, Treads ran with Jeval every step of the way.

Nothing seemed real. This had to be a dream, right? Sure, he'd been in some fights before.

But he'd never saved anyone's life before. Never did anything that got another person killed, either. So yeah, had to be a dream, and he'd soon wake up and deal with the usual bullshit instead of this.

Treads did most of the talking once they got to the Morgendorffer house. She explained what had happened, what Jeval had done. Meanwhile, he nodded along as they both dripped mud and worse onto the entry rug.

Quinn was there, too. She hugged them both, not caring about the dirt.

"I'm so glad you're both okay!" she said.

Maybe it was the perfume she wore that day, but something about seeing and feeling Quinn after the fight sent shivers down Jeval's spine and made his knees weak so that he thought he'd fall on the floor.

He kept standing. Most of what Mrs. Morgendorffer said sounded like buzzing in his ears. But he did hear one thing:

"No, you haven't committed any crime…"

A goofy grin spread across his face when he heard it. Things were fine.

Treads left to check in with her family. She promised to tell Jeval's folks what had happened. Before she left, she took him by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

"Keep your head down, okay? Promise?" she'd said.

"Absolutely."

When the door closed behind her, he wondered why she'd still sounded worried.

Quinn helped her dad set up a hot bath for him (seemed crazy that they could take baths in their own home), while Mrs. Morgendorffer did prep work. They gave him privacy once it was done, so he peeled off his filthy clothes to settle into the hot water.

At first, all he could do was sit and soak up the heat. Somehow, he still shivered, like his body hadn't forgotten the cold of the storm.

Gods, he was starving. The thought of food got him to scrape the mud off his skin and out of his hair. His heart still jumped from beat to beat, like he was getting ready to run.

Things were okay, though. He hadn't done anything illegal. And Mrs. Morgendorffer, was like, super-smart. She'd clear it up. He just had to wait and talk to her. Mom and dad would be proud of him, he was sure. They liked Treads.

Who knew? Maybe this would start something. People kept on saying that Morrowind couldn't keep slavery forever. After Jeval, everyone would know that the Empire was done putting up with it. That after 400 years, Morrowind would be fixed.

It had to work. Had to.

The Morgendorffers didn't have any clothes in his size. He ended up putting on one of Mr. Morgendorffer's shirts, which was big enough that he felt like he could get lost in it. Also, a pair of Daria's pants that she'd left behind when the Mages Guild had sent her to the mainland. On top of that, a wool robe so long that he had to pick it up to keep from tripping over it.

Quinn had gotten some food for him: bread, kwama scuttle, and hot tea. She sat him down in the kitchen, feeding him little pieces. Rain still fell outside, and the sky kept getting darker. It'd be evening soon.

"You're a hero, you know that? I'm so glad you were looking out for Treads."

"She did a lot, too. She tripped the guy with her tail. Then uh…"

The slaver's dying face rose up in Jeval's memory. His stomach twisted.

"Jeval, are you okay?"

"Uh…"

He hadn't killed the slaver. Not exactly. And who cared if a slaver died? But it was easy dealing with death that was far away. Harder when it was up close and personal.

"Yeah," he finally said, still feeling sick.

"You'll be fine."

He tried to relax. Somehow, he'd gotten a terrible headache. Quinn fussing over him should've felt perfect, but all he could think about was the day's events and what might happen next.

"Jeval?" came Mrs. Morgendorffer's voice from the front office. "Are you up for a talk? We can wait until the morning if you'd like."

"Uh, let's do it now!" Jeval tried to stand up, but his legs had lost all feeling, and he almost fell face-first on the floor. He caught himself on the table at the last minute.

Quinn gasped and ran to support him. They pressed together in a dark room for one frozen moment. But he needed to know his situation.

"Thanks," he muttered.

He got to the office, where Mrs. Morgendorffer waited behind her desk. Three candles burned on a candelabra, and she had a bunch of books open.

"Please, sit down, Jeval."

He obeyed without a word. Somehow, he'd never imagined talking to a lawyer for help.

Mrs. Morgendorffer began to speak. "Now, before we begin, I have to make sure you understand that any advice I give you is in the capacity of a friend, not as a legal advocate. I mentioned this to you earlier, but I'm not sure you heard."

"Huh?"

"My specialty is in the field of business law, as broadly outlined in the seventh volume of the Lex Imperia. In other words, I analyze contracts and agreements. Your situation is outside of my expertise."

"Wait, what? I thought you guys handled all the law stuff."

"The law is an enormous field, Jeval. It'd be impossible for any one person to be an expert in every aspect of it. Now, what I can do is give you some general advice—pro bono, of course—and perhaps direct you to an advocate who specializes in your situation."

"Then what's my situation? I thought you said I hadn't committed a crime!"

Her expression (somehow) turned more serious. "Explain what happened to me again. Leave out no details."

Jeval did. Thinking of it again sent all the little fears pulsing right back through his body: his best friend in danger; the slaver and his knife; the way the slaver looked when he'd died; the Dunmer woman who'd seen him toss the sword back into the alley.

"Thank you. I know it was hard to go over that again. To the best of my knowledge, you have not committed a crime."

"Great. I'm okay, then. Probably."

"Unfortunately, perceptions often matter more than reality. What do you know about the court system?"

Jeval thought about it a bit. "Nothing," he finally admitted.

"I see. The details vary from location to location. In Hlaalu lands, courts are decided by Hlaalu-appointed magistrates. The system here is quite similar to Cyrodiil's."

"That's good, right? I'll have an advocate."

"Of course. I know an advocate in Pelagiad who handles criminal cases and has successfully defended outlander clients. He is quite expensive, however."

"My folks don't have a lot of money."

Helen's brow furrowed like she was thinking. "I'll be willing to cover some of your costs."

"For real?"

"Yes, Jeval. For real."

"That's great!"

She raised her hand. "Hold on. As I said, your case will ultimately be decided by Hlaalu magistrates based on what they think is best for Great House Hlaalu."

Jeval shook his head. This was too much. "But aren't there laws for this stuff?"

"Yes. But the law is often more of a guideline in Morrowind. What I'm trying to explain is that if this goes to trial, you will be at the mercy of the court. Your advocate can push for leniency or even absolution, but how much leeway he has depends on the magistrates in question.

"There are many variables here. For instance, if your advocate is able to convince them that you killed a slaver who was assaulting a citizen, the magistrates may let you go to avoid embarrassment. Balmora is Hlaalu's face to the Empire in Vvardenfell District, and sparing you will look better to their Imperial supporters. Slavers are not supposed to operate in Balmora, at least not so openly; whoever you encountered was likely going against orders.

"Alternately, if the magistrates are more concerned with appealing to the conservative elements among the Dunmer, they may frame it as a wild outlander killing a local. In which case, you'll be in a very dire situation."

Jeval turned cold. "But the guy was a slaver! I didn't even kill him, not really. He killed his own dumb self."

"Removing the sword from his body may have caused him to die from blood loss. Regardless of how he died, a great deal depends on the testimony of this witness. You say this woman didn't see the fight?"

"No. Just me tossing the sword back in the alley."

"And she didn't see Treads?"

Jeval thought about it a bit. Then he shook his head. "No. I'm sure she didn't."

Mrs. Morgendorffer sighed. "Good. With respect to Treads-on-Ferns, her involvement would only complicate matters. But whoever investigates the scene will likely assume that it was a murder, or a robbery that turned violent."

"Wait! What about the ropes?" Jeval asked.

"What about them?"

Jeval hated how calm she sounded. "The guy was tying Treads up! That proves he was a slaver!"

"Lots of people carry rope, Jeval. No one except you saw him try to kidnap Treads."

"I'm screwed then! Like, what's even the point of the law?" he shouted.

For a second, he thought he'd made her mad. But she just looked sad, her eyes going to the three burning candles.

"I'd have had an answer for you twenty years ago," she said. "I'm afraid I no longer do."

She continued. "It's not completely hopeless. It's entirely possible that this witness won't bother reporting what she saw. Violence isn't common in Labor Town, but neither is it rare. If she does, then the odds are against you. But a good advocate can still persuade the magistrates to be more lenient. The witness may be a person of low character whose testimony will be doubted, though her being a Dunmer gives her an advantage that you lack. You'll likely get a prison sentence, but you'll probably avoid the headman's block."

"The headman's block? Oh, [censored]." Jeval buried his face in his hands. This couldn't be happening. "Treads is okay, right?"

"Yes, as long as the witness didn't see her."

"What if Treads came to the trial to back me up? Would that be safe for her?"

"To put it bluntly, no. That's why I said it's best for Treads to not be involved at all, even though her testimony may be exculpatory."

"Excul-what?"

"Exculpatory. Meaning it might get you off the hook. Though as an Argonian, she'll be fighting an uphill battle to get a Dunmer court to believe anything she says."

"It sounds like I'm facing jail time no matter what I do."

"I'm so sorry, Jeval. It is the most likely result if the witness reports what she saw."

His face screwed up, like he was going to cry. But he didn't want to.

"What if…" his voice almost broke, and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself. "What if I left town?"

Mrs. Morgendorffer frowned. "As a legal advocate, I can't support you becoming a fugitive."

"No offense, but I don't think I have a choice! And you said you were just giving me advice as a friend."

"You're right, I did. I'm not an expert in this sort of thing, you understand. Now, Vvardenfell District is lousy with bounty hunters. But you have a good shot at freedom if you reach the mainland, and no one here will pursue you once you're beyond Morrowind."

Out of Morrowind. Just like he'd been thinking about.

"Uh, how do I do that?"

"I'm afraid I don't know. You may be able to leave town if you do it tonight. The guards here are lazy. Even if the witness does report the incident, I can't imagine they'll start looking until tomorrow, and they'll start simply by looking for young Bosmer. Unless this witness can identify you by name."

"I've never seen her before," Jeval said.

"Good. Which brings me to another point: as much as I'd like to, I can't afford to shelter you if you are declared a fugitive. I'll try to help in other ways, like contacting that advocate, but that's the extent of it."

Jeval wasn't surprised, exactly. Mrs. Morgendorffer was all business. He wouldn't want to get Quinn or anyone else in trouble, anyway. "Yeah, I get it. In that case, I'll leave town. Maybe I can hang out in the hills and see if I can figure out what's going on here. If they never come after me, I can go home. If they do, at least I'll be outside of the city."

"Do you know anything about surviving in the outdoors?"

"Can't be that hard, right? I can eat, like, berries and stuff."

"Talk to your parents first. Your father's a courier, so he'll at least have some advice for making it on your own."

"He could go with me! Yeah, that works."

"Oh, Jeval," she said, and for a second, it sounded like her voice might break. "I wish this hadn't happened. You don't deserve this. You're a wonderful young Mer, and this is the last thing you should be worried about. They're robbing you!"

She slammed her hand on the desk. "But the law is the law—flawed though it is. I can't recommend that you try to escape Balmora. However, I won't stop you if that's your choice."

"Thanks. I get there's not much you can do. I should probably get going. Before the guards start looking for me."

"I think that's wise. Do you want me to get Quinn?"

Yes, Jeval thought. Let me see her one last time.

"That's okay. I don't want to draw this out. Besides, I bet things will turn out okay, and I'll be back like nothing happened."

It was bullshit. But he needed to hear someone say it.

*********

Wrapped up in the mud-spattered cloak he'd brought from home and the loaners that didn't fit, Jeval felt like all of Balmora was watching him. Which was stupid: he'd never seen the place so deserted. Rain sprinkled in thick, wet drops, but the storm was mostly over.

A good sign, he decided.

Jeval couldn't decide if it'd be better to stick to the main roads or go down the alleys, so he alternated. He crouched in the shadows each time a bonemold-armored guard wandered past. They probably weren't looking for him yet, but he didn't want to take a chance.

He hadn't gotten far when he ran into a couple of guys standing outside some cornerclub he'd never visited. One was an Imperial in a snazzy purple robe that looked too nice for this part of town, and the other was a Dunmer wearing a flannel coat and smoking tanna from a pipe.

"I don't suppose you have any idea how long this will last?" the Imperial asked in a nasal voice.

"Afraid not. This is my first time in Morrowind, and I've never even visited a Tribunal Temple before."

"I see. Sorry to assume. I can't believe they shut down the city."

"They're worried about something. But look, this is Hlaalu country. If even half of what I hear about them is true, there's no way they'll keep the city closed for long. Not if it means losing money."

"The greed of Man and Mer is the one constant in Tamriel," the Imperial said.

Jeval cursed. The city closed? Was this because of the Nerevarine stuff? Okay, these guys were out-of-towners. Probably safe to talk to them, but he put his hood on, just in case.

"Uh, what's that you said about the town being closed?" he asked.

The two turned to him in surprise, the Dunmer nearly dropping his pipe.

"You gave us quite a start," the Imperial said. "No matter. At sundown, the guards closed the striderport and the river. They said something about a temple announcement tomorrow. Not sure what that has to do with us."

[censored]!

"Oh, okay. Yeah, there's, uh, some of that going on here," Jeval said. "Didn't know it was that bad."

"I'm hoping it doesn't last long," the Dunmer said.

"Yeah, same. Thanks for letting me know," Jeval said. He turned away and walked up the street as fast as he could without looking suspicious.

Escape wasn't an option. He couldn't even go anywhere in the city without maybe getting someone else in trouble. His family couldn't shelter him—his house would be the first place the guards looked! How would mom and dad even react? He'd brought so much trouble to them.

All because he'd done the right thing. Done the kind of thing the Empire should have been doing in the first felt like his head was going to explode.

Not knowing what else to do, he ran back to the Morgendorffer house. He knew they'd have to kick him out eventually, but he needed a place to sleep, to clear his head.

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Jul 12 2025, 06:00 AM