The Story of Trey- Chapter 12 Options

[treydog]

Although I had decided to approach House Hlaalu first, I still had some reservations. When I had researched the Great Houses, I had learned enough about Hlaalu and its councilors to be wary. In particular, I was concerned about Crassius Curio. Although he wasn’t the acknowledged leader of Hlaalu, the Imperial councilor was one of the powers to be reckoned with. And even if he was peculiar, he was also extremely able. Add to that the fact that he resided in Vivec, which was full of Ordinators, and my problems were multiplied. Sul-Matuul had warned me that the Temple guardians would be likely to try to kill me first and ask questions after if they knew that I had declared myself Nerevarine. Of course, so far as I knew, no one had denounced me to the Temple- yet. Oddly, that fact made choosing to start with Hlaalu a wiser choice. Theirs was the only House most of whose councilors lived in or near the main seat of the Temple. Better to get in and out before word of my claims reached too many ears. The truth was that I wouldn’t have been happy to be obligated to anyone whose motives I didn’t trust, not just Crassius Curio. The fact that he was a decadent Imperial simply made it worse.

Despite my fears, the Hlaalu councilor was as gracious as ever when I asked to speak with him. He invited me to sit and asked how he could be of service to “one of Redoran’s rising stars.” That complimentary title was his way of telling me that he had sources of information and that he knew who I was. Realizing that the best response would be directness, I asked Crassius to tell me how Hlaalu went about naming a Hortator. The councilor explained that the title was largely honorary, but nevertheless required the unanimous support of the House Council. To achieve that support, one would have to demonstrate that there was a need for a war leader- that a true crisis existed. He then provided a description of the Hortator’s role,

“A Hortator is a champion who leads by inspiration. He challenges opposing heroes in single combat. He goes on long, desperate quests. He goes alone into the citadels of the enemy. He confronts the dangers no one else in the House is strong enough... or courageous enough... to face.”

Much as I disliked that summation, it certainly matched the situation Azura had trapped me into, so I asked if I could become Hlaalu Hortator. As I had expected, Crassius asked for a “small consideration” of 1000 drakes for his vote. He was honest enough to point out that Orvas Dren would NOT support me as things currently stood and that a number of the other councilors would not defy Dren. I willingly paid the bribe and asked Curio for any advice on the other councilors. He listed them and their probable reactions- Dram Bero would likely support me- if I could find him. Yngling Half-Troll would probably need to be “removed.” Nevena Ules and Velanda Omani would follow the lead of Orvas Dren. He suggested that it might be possible to trick or bribe Dren- he could be found at the Dren Plantation. Lord Curio then casually mentioned something that took my breath away- Orvas Dren was the head of the Camonna Tong and was rumored to be involved with the Sixth House. Although my initial reaction was to sharpen my blades and take the shortest path to the Dren Plantation, I restrained the impulse. Considering the influence Dren seemed to wield, killing him might very well prevent me from being named Hortator. And, much as I hated to admit it, sometimes duty took precedence over justice. Finally, Curio gave me directions on how to find most of the other councilors and I took my leave.

Although my mind still whirled with the thought that I would have to go ask a favor of the head of the Camonna Tong, there were other councilors closer by who I could hopefully persuade. Yngling Half-Troll lived in a manor house atop the St. Olms canton, and rumor had it that Dram Bero could also be found somewhere in Vivec. As was true of most Hlaalu councilors, Yngling retained an interesting variety of “hired help,” including a Nord, a Bosmer, and an Orc. Whatever else he might be, Yngling certainly wasn’t biased. Although Crassius had suggested that House Hlaalu wouldn’t mind if Yngling just “disappeared,” I saw no reason to handle their internal squabbles for them. If he was willing to listen, I would do my best to convince Yngling to support me out of his own self-interest. After hearing my story, the Nord proved himself to be as direct as those folk usually are-

“Well, tha’s very interestin’, I’m sure. But it will take 2000 drakes if you want my vote.”

That seemed a small price to pay to achieve my goal and to avoid having yet another death on my conscience, so I willingly paid. It was also gratifying to avoid getting entangled in the Hlaalu power struggle. If Crassius wanted Yngling removed, he would just have to find someone else to do the deed.

The thought of finding someone reminded me- I still needed to find Dram Bero. A few careful questions and judiciously spent coins revealed the fact that the elusive Hlaalu councilor was occasionally seen on the St. Olms plaza, the very place where I found myself. Considering how the Hlaalu seemed to prefer to settle disputes, I wasn’t surprised that one of their councilors chose to conceal his whereabouts. It’s hard to assassinate someone if you don’t know how to find him.

[treydog]

As I returned to the Council House, one aspect of my musings about the ways of the Telvanni bore fruit. As all of the remaining Mouths were in the same chamber, I would speak to all three at the same time rather than scurrying back and forth between Sadrith Mora and the various Tels. Besides, unlike the councils of the other Great Houses, it seemed that the Telvanni did not particularly care how the others voted- at least on this issue. Therefore, I told my story to Felisa Ulessen, Mouth for Therana; Raven Omayen, Mouth for Dratha; and Mallam Ryon, Mouth for Gothren. None of them told me anything I did not expect- Therana’s “attention could be hard to get and hold;” Dratha did not like men- I should “do anything possible to improve her disposition;” and Gothren should hear what I had to say as soon as possible. As the Archmagister’s residence at Tel Aruhn was the closest, that suited me. A short stint of water-walking found me outside Tel Aruhn, and Gothren’s retainers were as rude as any Telvanni I had yet encountered. In fact, several of them even went so far as to explicitly state that they would not speak to me because they didn’t like me or my “kind.” Whether they meant Bretons or members of the Mages Guild or Redorans I did not bother to inquire- their animosity was of the greatest indifference to me. All that mattered was being able to convince Gothren to support me as Hortator. Ignoring the insults and hostility, I levitated to the upper hall and found the Archmagister flanked by two Dremora Lords, clearly, summoned guardians. No wonder Aryon wanted me to take on the chore of disposing of Gothren. The Archmagister was scarcely more civil to me than his retainers had been, but his style of dress told me that he was a vain Mer, susceptible to flattery. After I had praised his great wisdom and obvious magical pre-eminence, the pompous old wizard unbent enough to hear the purpose of my visit. As Aryon had predicted, Gothren did not say yes or no; he simply asked for more time. With the consummate skill of a politician, he used a great many words to say nothing-

“No. Wait. Let me think.... Yes. I understand perfectly. Your story makes sense. Your proofs are persuasive.... But a decision on such a remarkable matter is a grave responsibility, and not to be taken in haste. I will need some time to reflect and consider, and to confer with the other Telvanni counselors. Leave me.”

Knowing that I would get no more from Gothren, and that I needed two additional votes, I graciously took my leave. Perhaps Aryon was correct, and the Archmagister would never give me a favorable response. But I did not know that, and I also wasn’t sure how the rest of the House would react to an attack on their leader. Finally, I wasn’t sure that I was prepared to challenge a wizard and his summoned guardians in his lair. That seemed like a remarkably effective way to commit suicide.

Tel Mora, home of Mistress Dratha, was relatively close by, so I left Tel Aruhn and prepared to go north. Just before I departed, I remembered a detail of a previous visit to Tel Aruhn and stopped in to see Bildren Areleth, the apothecary. After making a couple of purchases, I set out to discover if my powers of persuasion could sway Dratha. When I reached Tel Mora, I decided to talk to everyone I could, in hopes of finding some clue as to how to approach the eccentric Dratha. To my surprise, the people of Tel Mora were quite friendly, and I began to wonder if the talk of Dratha was all just a joke. Most of the tradespeople repeated the same story- that Mistress Dratha had been around forever, did not like men, but might still give me some work. Somehow, I got the impression that any work she offered me would be of the “go away, and if I am lucky you’ll get yourself killed” variety. When I reached Berwen’s Tradehouse, I was reminded of why it was important that I see this through. Berwen was a Wood Elf, with the slanted eyes and blonde hair common to her kind. She also appeared to be in a state of extreme agitation, and rushed through the usual greetings in a breathless fashion. As she paused for a moment, she took in my armor and weaponry and asked if I had been sent to “deal with the corprus stalker.” I admitted that it was the first I had heard of it, but that I would be glad to listen and help if I could. Berwen explained that the creature had somehow gotten into the store and she had managed to barricade it inside an upstairs room. Normally, Master Aryon would have dealt with it, but he was very busy. No one else was willing to risk catching the dread disease, and the stalker’s presence was ruining business, not to mention Berwen’s ability to sleep. I promised to do my best, and made my way up the stairs. Behind a stack of crates was the result of Dagoth Ur’s madness, his desire to create an army. The beast had once been an elf, but was now a monster, shambling back and forth, roaring. With the blessing of my immunity to corprus came the responsibility for dealing with those who had not been so fortunate. It was not a role I cared for, but I could not put it aside, either. The creature haunting Berwen’s storeroom and I were inextricably linked- if not for the manipulation of Azura, it could have been me roaring my mindless fury at the world. I conjured a bound bow and dispatched the poor beast as mercifully as I could. I felt no pride nor thrill in the death- it was simply necessary, and I was the only person who could handle it. As the stalker wheezed its last breath, I said a silent prayer to whatever powers there might be that his soul would find rest, untroubled by the madness of the gods and their creations.