The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: City of Light, City of Magic Options

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The tower was deeply subdued this morning, people moving around on tiptoe as Kallin spoke to me while I broke my fast. “The assassin came in from the southeast,” she briefed me, adding bitterly, “we found a dead guard. He’d been dragged over the hill out of sight. We also found this, outside.”

She handed me a small silver and glass phial. There were only a few dregs of the potion it had contained left in the bottom, but the thick smell rising from the flask was enough to tell us both what it had contained. “Having levitated to your balcony, he used a pick to unlock the door, greasing the hinges so they’d make no noise. How do you intend to respond, Arch-Magister?”

“By tearing a few strips off Master Neloth’s hide,” I replied. “I want to see how much of that ample paunch I can remove before he dies of blood loss or shock. Yes Raissu,” I said, turning my head to address the fidgeting estate manager, “you have something to add?”

“It may be prudent to stay your wrath until you’ve spoken with Neloth’s Mouth,” she suggested. I indicated that she should explain. “I have little knowledge of the Guild of Assassins,” she continued, “nobody does. And those that do have knowledge keep very, very quiet. However, if Neloth had targeted you for assassination, wouldn’t they have had to issue a Black Writ?”

“Which we would have known about,” an exasperated Kallin said, dropping her head so her forehead banged on the table. “Raissu is right, Arch-Magister. The Morag Tong may be a bunch of murderous cut-throats, but they do stick to their rules.”

Kallin then explained to me what she knew of the workings of the Dunmeri assassins. How a Black Writ has to be issued for the ‘execution’ of a target and how the target is made aware of the existence of the Writ. It seemed an odd system to me but it had been that way, apparently, for hundreds of years.

“Everyone out,” I commanded as I stalked into the Telvanni Council Hall in Sadrith Mora. “Not you Arara Uvulas,” I added as the Mouths started to leave. When she and I were the only ones left in the chamber, I spoke, “Last night there was an attempt on my life. Neloth has declared that he considers himself to be my enemy. Give me a good reason I shouldn’t end his life right now.”

Arara looked stricken, glancing about as though in search of aid. Finally, she swallowed and said, “My Master has not been in contact with me for days. In fact Sed, he hasn’t been out of Tel Naga since you became Arch-Magister. He… regrets certain comments he made to you and wishes he had not been so… hasty. I believe he fears that he may have made… an error of judgement.”

I snorted back laughter. Ignoring it, Arara continued, “As for arranging an assassination attempt? It is not something Neloth would do, for fear of precisely this situation.”

“In other words,” I said, “he’s a bully and a coward. Afraid that he’s made a mortal enemy of the Head of House.”

Arara hesitated, then gave a quick nod of the head ~ about as much confirmation that my words were true as I was likely to get from her. “Then if not Neloth,” I mused out loud, “who sent that assassin to my stronghold? Unlikely to be House Redoran, if they wanted me dead they’d do it themselves. House Hlaalu? They could certainly afford to equip an assassin in the armour…”

“Armour, Arch-Magister?” Arara interrupted my thoughts. “What sort of armour?”

“Black,” I replied. “Light-weight, high-quality black armour.”

“Then it was not the Morag Tong,” she said flatly. “Their assassins eschew armour, preferring simple robes. And if it was not the Morag Tong that tried to kill you, then it was not one of the Dunmeri factions that arranged it. Let me call one of the House Guards, they may be able to shed some light on the matter.”

The nervous looking guard listened to my tale and spoke quickly when I’d finished. “Sounds like the Dark Brotherhood, Sed Vahl. If you have been targeted for assassination by them…” he let his comment trail off. I wondered where I could find this Brotherhood. “I don’t know,” he replied in response to my question, “but there is a new arrival in Ebonheart who may be able to assist you. An Imperial by the name of Apelles Matius.”

Delas Mrania was only too happy to sell me a spell to get me to Ebonheart when I spoke to her and, after learning it; I took myself from Ald’ruhn to the Imperial blandness of Ebonheart’s Fort.

“You’ll forgive me if I am sceptical Dark Elf,” Apelles Matius said, giving me a condescending smile when I’d told him my tale. “If you were truly marked for death by the Dark Brotherhood, we would not be having this conversation.”

“I am not accustomed to being called a liar Matius,” I snapped. “You’d do well to remember your manners. Now, speak to me of the Dark Brotherhood.”

“Well,” he said, quite taken aback. “If you’re telling the truth… which I have no doubt you are,” he added hastily as I smiled blandly at him and dropped my hand to the hilt of my sword, “then you need to travel to Mournhold. That is the only bastion of the Dark Brotherhood in this Province that I am aware of.

“The problem is, Vvardenfell is under quarantine because of the Blight. However, if you speak to Asciene Rane in the Council Hall, I’m sure she would be able to transport you there.”

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As you can imagine, my sleep was an uneasy thing, filled with dreams of Hassour. While most revolved around the tentacle-faced creature the cultist had referred to as Dagoth Favon, more than a few were filled with the cultist’s face. What puzzled me was the sheer elemental power of the Man’s magic. Yet, as far as I’d been able to see, he bore none of the taint of the other creatures: which made his puissance all the more puzzling. Finally, as the thin light of dawn filtered through the windows, I threw back the covers and dressed.

“I cannot discuss such a matter Sed Vahl,” Tuls Valen insisted the second time I asked him about the creatures in Hassour’s caverns. “While the Temple is most grateful that you have cleansed the taint of those filth from the caves, and has rewarded you accordingly, details of that dark cult are reserved for the Temple’s uppermost hierarchy.” I persisted in my questions and, finally, he made an admission. “Sed Vahl, I’d answer your questions if I could. I am but a humble Proctor and, as such, am not privy to the decisions of the Patriarch and his advisors.

“I regret that we have no additional duties for you at the moment,” he said, clearly changing the subject to one he was more comfortable with. “I suggest you speak with the Proctors at the Ghostgate, or in Vivec City for additional duties. May the grace of ALMSIVI go with you.”

With that, he turned and vanished into the interior of the Temple, obviously either my tale or my questions had upset him greatly. With a sigh, I sat and looked at the handful of scrolls I’d been given. I didn’t wish to return to the Ghostgate, to do so would entail Uvoo Llaren asking awkward questions about when I intended to go up Red Mountain and get that cleaver. The last time I’d spoken to Endryn Llethan he’d been very clear that any duties he had were not for someone of my rank. That left just one possible option.

“Ah, I’m glad you came Sed Vahl,” Tharer Rotheloth said when I stepped into the Temple building in Molag Mar. “I heard that you had a few problems and had to visit the mainland for a while. Tell me, is the Temple in Mournhold as magnificent as they say it is?” I assured him that, whatever he’d heard, the Mournhold Temple surpassed all tales. He sighed, and I’m sure I heard him murmur “one day”.

“I’m glad you got the chance to travel there,” he said wistfully, “despite the, erm, unpleasant circumstances. But I’m much happier that you are here. You see word has reached us of a vampiric infestation at a Dwemer ruin called Galom Daeus. We… why do you laugh, Sed Vahl?”

“If you are referring to the Clan Berne of Galom Daeus,” I said, “I can assure you that they, and their Master, are so much extra dust on the floor.” He looked sceptical so, avoiding any details of why I was there, or what I discovered, I told him the harrowing tale of the cleansing of Galom Daeus.

“So you have a stronghold in the area known as Uvirith’s Grave, eh?” he said pensively. “I had no idea the Telvanni were interested in that region. Still,” he added, brightening up considerably, “the fact you’ve rid the area of the taint of the undead is good news. You know that the Temple has a special honour and reward for those that have shrived a vampire lair?”

I admitted that I didn’t know that. He smiled and vanished into his office, returning a few moments later with a heavy chest. Setting on the table, he unfastened the padlock and lifted the lid. “It’s been a while since these were given out,” he said, coughing slightly at the dust that arose from the interior. “But these are well deserved: Vahl the Vampire-Slayer.” From the depths of the chest, he fetched three wrapped items. The first was a massive hammer, with intricate designs in gold and an unfamiliar green stone adorning the shaft. The second was a buckler, made of gold-rimmed Ebony. Lastly there was a ring, silver and again inlaid with the same pale green stone as the hammer. “Please accept The Warden’s ring: may it prevent your enemies from casting enchantments upon themselves. May the Saint’s Shield nourish you in combat and lighten your load at need, and may the Hammer of Veloth’s Judgement bring the Temple’s justice to her foes.”

Since the cleansing of Galom Daeus was the only thing that Tharer had for me to do, I took my leave and returned to Tel Vahl. There had been much work done in my absence. Both the northern and southern watchtowers were now complete, and the foundations for two more had been dug ~ one to the east and one to the west. The barracks were now complete and it seems that Kallin Basalius had persuaded the architect to design a wall that ran from the barracks to the southern watchtower. Made of wood, it had a walkway on the inside that allowed my guards to patrol along it. Obviously, the lesson imparted by the Dark Brotherhood assassin had been taken very much to heart and the area around my Tel was now strongly guarded to ensure that there would be no repetition.