Sel, Chapter 3 Options

[Dantrag]

I was soon accepted into House Redoran, and my mother was pretty proud of me. Probably too proud. I didn't go to Athyn's class anymore, being too busy as councillor Venim's page. Or, at least until the fiery councillor died, and was replaced by his brother. All young hirelings in the House had to spend five years in a councillor's service, and I was no different. Close to the end of those years, my fourth, to be exact, I wondered why I was even in the House; I got no money for my service, being a page, and my family needed money. I should have gotten a job. There I was in Bolvyn's manor, getting fed and clothed while my family starved. My own damned fault. I paid for my selfishness.

----

I'll put the actual story here in a while; I just needed to start this back up.

This post has been edited by Dantrag: Feb 8 2006, 02:47 AM

[Dantrag]

Here you are.

----

They buried their mother the next day, and had to make the gravestone themselves. It was a large lump of a rock, and Sel carved his mother's name in it with a hammer and chisel that he borrowed from someone in what was once Bolvyn Manor.

Sel watched as Vysi put some freshly picked flowers on the spot of fresh earth, trying his best not to let any tears pass; he had to be strong for his sister. He was the parent now.

As best he could tell, his mother had been so poor that she could barely afford food anymore. As such, she gave it all to his sister, and when he was home, himself. She starved herself to death so that they could live. Noble, he couldn't deny, but it didn't make it hurt any less, or make him feel any less guilty. He had inadvertently killed his own mother. He even tried to eat a rat's tail the night before, and proved that it had no meat on it.

They stayed in their own house from then on, Sel getting permission from Arsyn on account of his sister. It didn't matter anyway; his time as a page would end soon. Then he would get paid for being doing duties for the House. But until then, he needed a job.

"Do you need an apprentice?" Sel asked the armorer in town, hoping to get a job at the forge.

"A skinny boy like you? I don't think you could even dent the metal, much less shape it." the man said with a laugh. "Listen, someone like you would be better suited to something else."

Most of the other places said much the same thing. He wasn't able to do any of it. None of the pawnbrokers or traders needed any extra help, and he was told he was too young to work in a tavern. He even tried to get a job sewing for a clothier, but when he tried to prove that he could hem a dress, he was laughed at yet again.

I can't wait six months to get paid. Sel thought angrily. Six months was how long it would take for him to turn fifteen, and he had to be fifteen to be accepted as a full-fledged Redoran.

He had tried everything short of joining a guild, and that never appealed to him; it seemed that all guild members were in debt to their respective guilds. He was about to walk into the fighters' guild, hoping he wouldn't get laughed at there, before he accidentally ran into an altmer man. Needless to say, it brought him away from his contemplations.

"What are you doing, boy?" the altmer demanded, papers strewn everywhere from the collision.

"What? Oh, sorry sir. I guess I was somewhere else." Sel replied, helping the man pick up all the papers that Sel made him drop. One stuck out to him; it was a sketch of a sword with the word 'Chrysamere' written over it.

"What's this?" Sel asked, holding up the paper.

"That, my boy, is an ancient sword, sometimes called the Paladin Blade, but it is more commonly known as Chrysamere. It supposedly strenghens the user, as well as healing him when needed, but I have yet to find it." the altmer replied.

"No offense, sir, but you don't look like one to use a sword." Sel said, trying his best to be polite; he was sincerely interested.

"I'm not." he admitted, "But I'm a collector, you see. I enjoy collecting dwemer items, and other legendary artifacts and studying them."

"Sounds dangerous, looting dwemer ruins." Sel said, beginning to admire the man.

"It is; I've had to leave many an artifact lying on the ground because of some damned construct or specter." the man said, some frustration evident in his voice.

"Would you pay me for any dwemer items I find?" Sel asked, seeing a way to make money here.

"No, my boy; I don't want a child running around in a dwemer ruin just for money. It's dangerous." he said, condescendingly, as adults often do to children.

"I can handle myself." Sel said defensively.

The altmer seemed to notice the sword at Sel's side for the first time. "Hm...I guess you could be right." he said, stroking his chin as if deep in thought over something. "How about this; you can travel with me tomorrow to one of the nearby ruins, and I'll see how good you really are with that silver toy. If I find you to be good enough, I'll hire you as a bodyguard of sorts."

Sel was too happy about the prospect of making money to make a retort about the mer calling his sword a toy. "Where do I meet you?"

"Meet me in the Ald Skar Inn at dawn; I won't wait up for you so be on time."

With that, the altmer scooped up the last of his papers and walked off to the inn, where Sel supposed he had a room.

The boy trudged along, and realized that he had forgotten all about what hapened to his mother while he was speaking to that mer and looking for jobs. He had been too busy to. All of a sudden, the sadness and the anger hit him again, overwhelming him, but he was determined not to cry. After all if he couldn't stop himself from doing it by himself, who was to say that he couldn't stop it when he was around Vysi? He had to be strong for her. He was the parent now.

I'm a bloody parent now. he thought sadly. But then another thought came. Where the hell is my father? He should have been here, working to make money so that mother wouldn't starve. He should be here now so that I'm not the one taking care of the family.

He pulled out his sword and swung at the nearest trama root in anger. What kind of man was his father? Obviously not a very good one to let his mother die like that and leave him to fend for the family.

"I'm the parent now." he told himself firmly. "Father be damned."

This post has been edited by Dantrag: Feb 8 2006, 02:57 AM