The Last Days of the Fashion Club Options

[WellTemperedClavier]

Here's the novella I wrote this year as a companion piece to Outlanders. This one actually takes place during the events of the game, and follows Jeval as he deals with the dissolution of the Fashion Club and some pretty big changes in his own life (and in the world around him). I wrote this to explore some heavier themes that I wasn't really able to get to in the main story. It's sixteen chapters long.

Breaking Balmora, or The Last Days of the Fashion Club

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.

“I need to use it! Mom!”

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, swelled 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.

[WellTemperedClavier]

@Acadian - I remember playing a Bosmer for the first time, and being surprised at how short I was in comparison to everyone else. It stuck with me.

Heh, Morrowind lore can quickly become bewildering. That's one reason I kept it as background stuff; what really matters about the Nerevarine here is that it throws a wrench in everyone's plans.

Even as the Fashion Club starts to drift, they do what they can to help. It's like Jeval's thought from earlier in the story: Quinn's what the Empire was supposed to be (at least from their perspective).

@SubRosa - Yeah, I figured it'd be a bit annoying to have someone try to win points in that way.

Tiphannia's feelings are mixed, but she knows this is too important for past grudges to interfere.

Well, the Nerevarine hasn't chosen to kill Vivec yet. Maybe they're just focused on Dagoth Ur for the time being (and Dagoth is the more immediate threat).

The chaos is pretty scary, but yeah, it does provide a shield.

@Renee - Actually, Helen even remarks on this in Chapter 12. She points out that the slaver was likely going against orders, since slavers operating openly in Balmora would embarrass Great House Hlaalu.

Yes, Daria would be aware. But remember, Daria's someone who reads a lot and has a deep curiosity about the world around her (even if she keeps it arm's length). In fact, she did see the slave market during her ill-fated visit to Sadrith Mora.

Jeval, on the other hand, is more content to drift along. He knew slavery was out there, and he knew it was awful, but it wasn't his concern (until now).

Yeah, Tiphannia probably knows way more than most people would be comfortable with since so many folks would just blab about stuff around her, thinking she was too dumb to get it. She could probably start a one-woman spy ring in Balmora...

So I actually thought black roses were herbs you could collect in-game, but it turns out they're only in Morrowind if you have Tamriel Rebuilt (got TR lore and Vanilla lore mixed up again). It's a perfectly innocuous plant.

Huh, looking it up now and apparently it was also in Daggerfall.

Chapter 15

Jeval almost didn’t see Ulnar Roweni, who sat in the back of the parlor where the shadows were thickest. A big book was open on his lap, and he raised his eyes as the door opened.

“Ah, Jeval! Good to see you. I’m sorry the circumstances are so grim.”

Jeval nodded. “Thank you, Muthsera Roweni. I mean it.”

“You’re a good Mer, Jeval. Ah, Treads-on-Ferns?”

“Yes?”

“Jeval and I will need to discuss some matters privately. I don’t mean to be rude, but I must ask you to step outside.”

“Muthsera, she stays with me,” Jeval said.

Sera Roweni’s jaw stiffened. “This is a sensitive issue. Helping you puts the cause at risk. I am willing to do that, in this case. However, I cannot have anyone else listening in. There are times when the simple act of knowing something can be dangerous. What I say must be between me and you. If this is unacceptable, than I am afraid we’re done here.”

Treads looked to Jeval.

“It’s your call,” she said.

“Will you be okay outside?”

“The crowd makes me nervous, but I’ll manage. You’ll be okay in here?”

“Yeah.”

Treads took a deep breath. “I’ll be in the alley. Let me know when things wrap up.”

She left. Jeval flinched when the door closed behind her.

“Apologies. However, I must proceed with caution. The fact that we’re even having this conversation shows that my wife and I both need to be much more careful. I’ll admit we underestimated Tiphannia.”

Droning chants came through the walls and shuttered windows. It was almost black as night in the Roweni parlor. Jeval took a seat, hoping he hadn’t made a bad decision in sending Treads away.

“Can you help me?” he asked.

“I believe so, yes. You will need to be prepared to move quickly, however. You won’t have time for many goodbyes.”

“That’s fine.”

“Good. Go to the riverside docks closest to the south wall on the Labor Town side. Do so after nightfall, but do not delay past midnight. There will be an Altmer boatman named Hulilankonel—you can call him Huli, he won’t mind—who will take you to Seyda Neen. I’ve already paid him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

“What do I do then?”

“Get passage on a boat heading out of Morrowind,” Sera Roweni said. He opened a drawer in the small table next to him and took a heavy looking pouch. It jingled as he handed it to Jeval. “This should have enough to get you to Skyrim at the very least. I’m afraid you’re on your own after that.”

Weighing the pouch was like holding his entire future in his hands. “Gods. Thank you so much. I don’t even know what to say.”

Sera Roweni smiled. “You don’t need to say anything. I must insist that you not tell Treads about the boatman. It’s not that I don’t trust her, but spreading this information does put Twin Lamps operations here at risk.”

It didn’t feel quite right. But what else could he do? Jeval nodded. “Sure. Do you always help people like this?”

“On the contrary. The Twin Lamps is very selective. Ordinarily, prospects must contribute to the cause in a great way. You did a gallant, wonderful thing. But you did it more to help a friend than to end slavery. I do not say that as judgment, simply as a statement of fact.”

“So why are you helping me?”

“My wife and I determined that this was low risk. After all, even if you do report us, you’re an outlander and I am a wealthy Dunmer of Great House Hlaalu. No one will believe you. You have also been a good friend to my daughter. And, if you want to get right down to it, I’m a sentimental old fool and I couldn’t stand to see you punished for doing the right thing.”

“Thanks again,” Jeval said. “But you’re part of Great House Hlaalu, right? Are you working against them with the Twin Lamps?”

“No, quite the opposite. I know full-well the evils that Great House Hlaalu has committed in the name of profit. But I am Dunmer. I cannot allow my family or my house to be destroyed. Thus, I will temporarily undermine Hlaalu via abolition in the hopes that we will at least survive the storm, in however diminished a form. A reckoning is coming for the Dunmer. My prayer is that it will be a reckoning of lost fortunes and ruined names. Because the alternative will come as a tide of blood to drown the land.”

“Like a revolt?” Jeval asked.

“Quite likely. Enough to say that it is inevitable, and the Empire’s decline makes it imminent.”

“Is that why you’re having Satheri marry that guy? So she doesn’t get caught up in this?”

“That is part of it. Satheri’s is a kind and wonderful girl. But she has no strength. Her being with us threatens the cause. We've kept our activities secret from her. Because if an ordinator or a Hlaalu agent wanted her to name names, all he’d have to do is tell her that my wife and I will be spared if she does. She’ll believe him, the poor girl.

“She cannot do any harm if she is far away. Her husband-to-be and his family have half-hearted abolitionist sympathies. They do not own slaves and are heavily invested in Cyrodiil. My hope is that they will one day move there, away from Morrowind and its crimes. Then Satheri will be safe.”

Except Satheri had no strength, like Ulnar had just said. Jeval wondered if he really wanted to say what was on his mind.

“Got it,” he finally said. “I think Satheri might be a little scared. Just so you know.”

“Scared? My daughter’s terrified of this marriage. But so be it. My wife and I might dress like Cyrodiilics, but we are Dunmer to our cores. The Dunmer are cruelest to those they love most. There’s just no other way.”

Jeval shuddered inwardly. But he was too worn out to worry about Satheri.

“Do you understand what to do tonight, Jeval?” Sera Roweni asked.

“Yeah.”

“Repeat it to me, so I’m sure you know.”

“I go to the riverside dock on Labor Town nearest to the south wall. There’s an Altmer boatman there named Huli, and he’ll take me to Seyda Neen. Then I find another boat leaving Morrowind and I’m on my own.”

Sera Roweni nodded. “That’s the gist of it, yes. I know you’ll want to say goodbyes, but I strongly suggest you avoid talking to anyone.”

“Can’t I see my family?”

“It’s your choice, Jeval. But I caution against it. That is all.”

Jeval stood up and bowed again. “Thank you, muthsera. I owe you for this.”

“You can repay me by escaping safely and quietly. Good luck.”

In silence, Jeval left the Roweni house for the last time.

*********

Sera Roweni hadn’t wanted Jeval to say any goodbyes, but he couldn’t leave Treads in the lurch. With his hood up and his heart in his mouth, he walked back to the alley. Balmora kept getting crazier around him; Dunmer kept marching and chanting.

Treads was waiting there for him.

“I’m leaving tonight,” he said.

“Tonight? Oh, gods. I know—I know it’s stupid of me, but I’d hoped you’d stay.” A thin rasp came out of her throat and she hugged him, grabbing him close. “It’s not fair.”

“I know,” he said, trying not to cry. Because he needed to stay calm, and crying would only make it worse. Tears came to his eyes anyway.

They pulled apart, though Treads kept her hands on his shoulders.

“Uh, Muthsera Roweni didn’t want me to tell you any details. I trust you—”

“It’s okay,” Treads said. “I just need to know you have a safe way out. What about your family?”

He gulped. Dad was still on his trip. Mom and sis would have to deal with this all on their own until he got back. “I don’t know if I can actually see them right now. Like… I might totally fall apart if I do. You’ll tell mom I’m okay?”

“Of course. Look, my dad knows what happened. We’re leaving Morrowind. I don’t know where we’ll go, and I don’t know when. But it’ll be as soon as possible. We’ll try to talk your parents and sister into going with us. They know this place sucks.”

“Okay, that works.”

“Also, I’m only saying this because my dad made me promise I would, but he says you should join the Legion. That they need troopers like you.”

It was such a weird thing to say that Jeval couldn’t help laughing. But it was totally Mr. Flowers.

“Don’t know if I’ll do that. But I’m glad he thinks that about me.”

Treads hugged him again. “You’re a hero, Jeval. Not your fault this town’s too stupid to see it. Write to us wherever you end up, okay? Can you promise me?”

“I promise.”

Her arms relaxed, and he slipped through. It was almost dark, most of the light coming from the votive candles and torches.

“Let me walk you to your house, at least,” he said.

“Just like old times,” she said.

They walked together as Balmora wailed into the night.