Trey in Mournhold, Chapter 4 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 4

At last, I had the answer to the question of who had set the Dark Brotherhood upon me. But that answer brought me no peace. In fact, I realized that some truths could be more dangerous than ignorance, a proposition I would never before have believed. When a king wants you dead, you generally die. The only questions are how soon and how painfully you do so. It was one thing for someone to tell me that Emperor had taken an interest in me; after all, the Emperor was far away. But Helseth was the king of the province of Morrowind, a place from which I could find no escape. And if the rumors were correct, he was working hard to consolidate his power and remove any rivals. Whether he was truly responsible for the deaths of some of those other nobles, I could not say. But then, I didn’t particularly care, either. The entire “aristocracy” of Tamriel could throttle, bludgeon, and poison one another to their hearts’ content and I would cheer them on while placing bets on the eventual winner. As far as I was concerned, they were all parasites. Unfortunately, when such folk started wars, it was people like me who did the bleeding and dying. The one answer I had- that Helseth was the “who” that wanted me dead spawned another, more important question- why?

Despite my seething anger, I knew that I could not simply march into the palace and confront Helseth with my knowledge. I had seen the royal guards with their armor the color of dried blood and knew that I could never get past them to the king. And even if I somehow managed to come before him and noise my accusations about, who would listen? He was the king. He could declare me a madman and have me locked up or executed “for the public good.” No one would rush to my aid; no one would defend me. Even if the whole world knew that my words were true, it would change nothing. The king’s word was law. And yet, I could not simply let him get away with the attempts to have me killed. Perhaps I could seek an alliance with Fedris Hler, Almalexia’s steward. I knew that the Temple and Helseth were involved in a power struggle- the priests might be willing to provide substantial assistance in weakening the king. The only trouble with that idea was that I would be putting myself more fully in the power of the Temple. And I did not like or trust them much more than I did the king. Yes, Fedris Hler might help me weaken or even depose Helseth- but I had a feeling my reward would be one last trip to the sewers and a blade in the back. The Temple would gladly use me and then cast me aside or else actively participate in my execution. They could then claim that their hands were clean.

Some may wonder why I did not simply get out of Mournhold and go to ground back on Vvardenfell. After all, I had dealt the Dark Brotherhood serious damage, which they would require some time to repair. And, with the wisdom of years I now possess, that would have been the wise course. It is likely that the internal struggle to replace Dandras Vules would have distracted the assassins sufficiently to buy me all the time I needed. But…I had left Vvardenfell ahead of the wrath of the Camonna Tong as well as to avoid the scrutiny and the schemes of the Blades. I was heartily tired of running away from my enemies. And Helseth was one man, albeit a king. That gave me a convenient target upon whom to focus my rage and my sense of being ill-used. Even if I had wanted to fight the Blades, I had no idea how to do so. As for seeking the destruction of the Camonna Tong, I had discovered that down that road lay the loss of my very soul. But to pit my skills and my desire for revenge against a king- that seemed highly worthwhile to me. Perhaps as much as anything else, I wanted to make Helseth pay for all the wrongs that had been done me, whether they could rightfully be laid at his door or not. It wasn’t wise, it wasn’t rational- but it felt right. It felt like justice, which was what I believed I wanted. Now I know that the worst that can happen to most of us is to get what we deserve.

Thus, I resolved to do something foolish- to seek justice against a king who had a short way with any who crossed him. But, if I was going to do something foolish, I would at least do it in an intelligent way. I needed information; I needed a way to get close to Helseth; I needed a safe haven if all else failed. Information and perhaps even access could be obtained with gold- of that I had a sufficiency. As for a safe haven- much as it roiled my stomach, I would have to depend upon the Temple. Fedris Hler and Almalexia were the only ones in Vvardenfell with the stature and the support to oppose Helseth and get away with it. He dared not confront them directly, knowing that the more traditional Dunmer would riot if he tried. And, now that I thought about it, my foray against the goblins had weakened the king significantly. They had probably been intended as a secret force that he could send against his enemies without appearing to be directly involved. But even a power-mad despot like Helseth knew that a fight between the Royal Guards and Almalexia’s Hands would bring the Imperial Legion into the mix. And the Emperor would most assuredly NOT be happy with a provincial governor who fomented a civil war. I still didn’t trust the Temple, but “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Or at least my co-conspirator….

So- information first; preferably information that I could trade to the Temple for protection. Not everyone who worked around the palace was a Helseth loyalist- with patience and a few coins, I might find someone who was willing to talk. Therefore, I placed a firm hold on my temper and made my way to the palace to seek information. Wanting to ensure that I made the right impression (and to avoid any “accidents”), I put away my sword and donned an ornate robe to cover my armor. All that remained was to devise a plausible reason for hanging around the palace, asking questions. I knew that I could not pretend to be there in any official capacity- besides the fact that I had no credentials, a formal inspection was the surest way to guarantee that no one said anything of interest. It would have to be something that encouraged people to talk- something that put them at ease. The truth was, most people would tell you almost anything if you just approached them in the right way. My love of books and words had already awakened in me the secret desire to be a writer- and that would be my cover. In such guise would I seek the lever that would allow me to topple a king.

[treydog]

If my plan worked, Delitian would accept the copy of “The Common Tongue,” and I would not have to go around the city asking awkward questions. While I was not above a little bribery in a worthy cause, I hardly felt that this qualified. Besides, if anything happened, people might remember the Breton who was asking all the nosy questions. At the same time, it would not do to rush right back with the paper in my sweaty hands. After all, I needed the captain to believe I had made an effort. Although I did not really think that I had a chance of impressing the taciturn officer, I also did not want him to get the idea that I was intimately familiar with the writers of the broadsheet. Therefore, I disappeared into the palace basement to mix some potions. As always, the activity calmed me, but it also reminded me that the alchemist’s art could easily be perverted to produce poisons- poisons such as those the king was rumored to have used. Eying my equipment and ingredients, I wondered how many food-tasters the king went through in a week. It was well-known that a man who used poisons on his enemies was a man who greatly feared being poisoned himself. That bore consideration; perhaps someday I could turn it to my advantage. The thought of Helseth having to fear for his life every time he took a bite or sip cheered me tremendously. It felt only right that the man who had made my life miserable should endure a little misery himself. In a better frame of mind, I returned to the throne room and presented Tienius Delitian with the copy of “The Common Tongue.” He perused the sheet quickly, and a frown creased his brow then cleared as he reached the end. He thanked me fulsomely, but buried in his thanks was an interesting remark,

“Thank you for bringing me this copy of 'The Common Tongue'. I believe this is indeed the source of the rumors. I see no source or evidence for its speculation -- just vague falsehoods. Thank you. Well done. I'll mention your loyal services and exceptional qualities to King Helseth. And I think we might find you further employment.”

I discounted the sarcastic remarks about my “loyal services and exceptional qualities,” but it did not require a doctorate in rhetoric to recognize the difference between “no truth” and “no evidence.” Delitian was not so much concerned about people saying Helseth was a murderer- he simply wanted to be sure no one with actual knowledge of the king’s plotting was doing the talking. After scowling thoughtfully at me for a few minutes, the guardsman abruptly asked me what I knew about the Temple. Unsure of where the conversation was going, I admitted that I had joined the Tribunal Temple in Vvardenfell, and performed some services for them. Then I tried to explain why I had not also joined the Imperial Cult, but Delitian impatiently waved away my stumbling protestations of piety and said,

“I have no interest in your faith, boy. You can worship the Great Rabbit for all I care. What I need is someone who can go inside the Temple without raising any eyebrows. We lack sources of information in Almalexia's Temple. Could you help me find a Temple informant?”

Although I had not been favorably impressed by what I had seen of the Temple, I knew that they were influential- and could be a powerful enemy. Therefore, I tried to buy a little time by asking what precisely Delitian had in mind. For once, he did not act impatient, but replied thoughtfully,

“There are rumors of discontent in the Temple. Go to Almalexia's Temple. Look for someone discontented. Listen sympathetically. And find out whether the Temple is willing to accept King Helseth -- or whether the Temple plans to act against him.”

The frightening thing about Tienius Delitian- or at least one of the frightening things about him- was how reasonable he made everything seem. Either he absolutely believed everything he was saying or else the stage had lost a great actor when he went into the Imperial Guard. However, his apparent sincerity was not what caused me to agree to seek his Temple informant. Some may wonder at my willingness to do the bidding of people I despised, especially without protest. In truth, my conscience, poor, stunted thing that it was, did feebly attempt to counsel me to follow the righteous path. But I ignored it- for several reasons. First, I would do almost anything to get a chance to have a few seconds alone with Helseth. And I didn’t plan to ask for his autograph. Second, I had no great love for the Temple, particularly not the Temple in Mournhold. And finally, it seemed to me that the best way to find others who had reason to wish Helseth ill was through the guard captain. He would know better than anyone who the king’s enemies were- and he would have to give me their names sooner or later. What I actually said to those people might not be precisely what Delitian had in mind.

Of course, I was not exactly thrilled with the idea of being the king’s spy inside the Temple. A picture appeared unbidden in my mind- two inexorable, faceless titans squaring off over the city of Mournhold, with my all-too-fragile self stuck right between them. If the king and the Temple clashed, it was little people like me that were liable to get trampled underfoot. Also, before I started wandering around the Temple, asking people if they were happy with the current management, I needed to think of a reason for being there. Pretending to be a writer had not worked in the palace and was even less likely to do so in the House of Almalexia. Given my rather spectacular entrance the last time I had been in the Temple, I imagined people probably remembered me very clearly. Although a great many supplicants entered the Temple every day, I doubted that most of them left the severed heads of goblin chieftains as offerings. Thinking about that episode also reminded me of Fedris Hler’s sneering acknowledgment of my completion of the task- and his casual reference to the fact that Gavas Drin, the Arch-canon, might have some additional duties for me. That offer would be my explanation for what I was doing- important work for the Arch-canon, work that required me to do some research and ask questions of the Temple personnel. It was thin, and Hler would see through it if he bothered to inquire, but I hoped his contempt for me would provide sufficient cover. For once, I was rather glad that someone did not take me seriously. If I cultivated that air of bumbling incompetence, it might just be possible to demonstrate to Fedris Hler and Helseth that even small snakes can have sharp fangs. Of course, it would also be well to remember that there was a fine line between feigned incompetence and the real thing.