Trey in Mournhold, Chapter 5 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 5

Dedicated to the memory of Jonajosa. Be at peace, my friend.

Rather than walk back to the Palace, I used an amulet to cast Divine Intervention. Mainly, I chose that means of transport because I was terribly weary. But I admit that it was also a calculated insult to the Tribunal Temple. After all, the spell carried me to the entrance of the Imperial Cult, their religious rival. Once I had been deposited in the Palace courtyard, I mentally prepared myself for my meeting with Tienius Delitian. If possible, I hoped to keep Galsa Andrano’s name to myself- betrayal did not come easily to me. Though she was a member of Almalexia’s Temple, she was not responsible for its misguided choices. Before heading for the throne room, I nipped down the stairs to the basement and exchanged my armor for a robe. While the Dark Brotherhood armor might have served as a pointed reminder of Helseth’s murderous intent toward me, I did not think it wise to appear before his guards dressed as an assassin. While the King’s paranoia might be the product of a guilty conscience, theirs was a professional reflex- one that I preferred not to test. A measure of their caution was the fact that I had yet to lay eyes on Helseth, even in his own throne room. Confronting him with my…righteous indignation was going to be difficult if all he ever did was cower in his private chambers. Of course, he would also have a hard time governing from that position, a prospect that did not make me particularly unhappy. On the other hand, my disagreement with Helseth was personal rather than political, so I rather hoped he would show his sorry face sometime soon.

If Captain Delitian was happy to see me, he disguised it quite well. Stony-faced, he stared at me and queried,

“Have you anything to report? Or have you just been wandering around Mournhold gawking at the sights?”

I was becoming used to his irritating manner, having realized that his baiting was as much an attempt to surprise me into blurting something revealing as because he genuinely disliked me. Besides that, I didn’t really care- I didn’t much like him, either. So I simply smiled blandly at his sneer and described what I had discovered regarding the Temple’s view of his precious monarch. At the end of my recital, he grunted and said,

“Of course, I had someone follow you, so I know that you spent some time with the healer, Galsa Andrano. She certainly speaks her mind, and, from what you say, sounds sincere. You handled her well. The Temple seems to recognize that King Helseth will not be content to be a puppet like King Llethan, and plans to act against us. Very good work, Trey. The king will hear of your loyal service.”

So much for keeping Galsa out of it. Well, I had tried. And perhaps there would not be a confrontation between Temple and king. Better still, maybe someday I would get over the feeling that I was a particularly low form of life that betrayed confidences.

Meanwhile, Delitian had other things on his mind. Motioning for me to follow him out into the hallway, he dropped his voice and said,

“Now you can help us with another matter. King Helseth is concerned about possible disloyalty among the Guards. I've replaced many of the former king's guards with more reliable men. But I had to keep some experienced guards, and I can't be certain of their loyalties. I will pretend you wish to join the Royal Guards. That's your excuse for talking to the guards, sounding them out, and looking for evidence of disloyalty. If you find any hint of treason or evidence of disloyalty, report it to me. Take no action. Report to me, and I will judge what action is appropriate.”

The cover story struck me as being awfully thin, although it would have the advantage of explaining my repeated visits to the captain. Hoping for a bit of guidance, I inquired as to which guards I should investigate. Delitian’s familiar scowl reappeared and he replied,

“It's your judgment I'm testing, not mine. Talk to them yourself. Form your own conclusions.”

The assignment revealed still more of Helseth’s problems- and his errors. I was practically certain now that he was responsible for King Llethan’s death. And it seemed that a number of others had reached the same conclusion- including some of the palace guards. Regardless of whether they had personally liked the old king or not, his safety had been their responsibility…and they had failed to protect him. I had no way of knowing whether Helseth was any good as a ruler, but he had a positive genius for making enemies. So far, he had alienated the Temple, the conservative Dunmer (probably including House Redoran), and some of his own guards. And, oh yes, one insignificant but highly motivated Breton. He was beginning to discover that a major problem with ascending to the throne through assassination was the ideas it put into other people’s heads. Ideas like- if one king can be killed, why not two? Actual justice is often fickle or uncertain, but watching a guilty man squirm in fear of justice can sometimes be an acceptable substitute.

None of these ruminations were getting me any closer to finding out which guards, if any, were contemplating a change in management. The only thing for it was to visit the guard quarters and spread some charm and cash. I briefly entertained the notion of trying to implicate some of the loyal guards, thus weakening Helseth, but realized that Delitian wanted evidence- not just my accusations. I again had to play it straight if I was to have any hope of gaining the king’s confidence.

The guard quarters were functional and little else- each guard had a bed and a locked chest for personal items. The room itself was open and offered no possibility of concealment. A quick glance at the chests showed that the locks were of reasonable quality. I could get past them with sufficient time or with a spell, but the idea of getting caught rummaging through a Royal Guard’s possessions did not appeal to me. My fears were given additional emphasis when a guard wandered through the room, and turned his helmeted head to stare at me. Sighing with disgust, I sat down on a storage chest to consider my options. As I idly traced the badly carved name on the chest, Ivulen Irano, my eyes fell upon a scrap of parchment that had fallen between the chest and the foot of the bed. Thinking it was probably a note inviting the guard out for drinks after work, I picked it up. After some effort to decipher the tiny and nearly illegible handwriting, I understood that it was a copy of guard duty rosters for the past several weeks. Three names were always correctly spelled -- Milvela Dralen, Ivulen Irano, and Aleri Aren -- and those watches when all three were the only guards in the Throne Room were underlined twice. My finely-honed investigative senses told me that this might be what was known in the trade as a “clue.” More to the point, I thought it might be a good idea to talk to Guardsman Ivulen Irano.

[treydog]

Sorry for the shorter than usual installment. It was a bad week at the college (finals week), plus I have been sick for the last 3-4 days. Well- at least I didn't have to TAKE any of the finals

From the calm perspective of so many years later, I can see that I actually had many choices for handling the Hlaalu conspiracy and the king. But it is often the case that it is easy to sit in a comfortable chair beside a warm fire and make a reasoned decision about events that are long ago and far away. However, in the moment that was, all I had were my instincts, my (limited) experience, and a burning desire for what I perceived as justice. In a word, all I had was myself. Recall that, in Mournhold, I had no friends, no mentors, no support. There was no Caius Cosades or Athyn Sarethi in whom to confide; and, at that time, even those two had not completely earned my trust. It seemed that everyone I met this city, at least everyone with any real power, only wanted to use me as a help in attaining their own ends. I suppose that I began to act in what I saw as my own self-interest as much in emulation of others as because that was all I could think to do. Whatever the reason, I was forced to rely own my own judgment and to live with the consequences.

In a way, the Hlaalu letter confirmed my most significant problem- it was almost impossible to get close to the king. But I was determined that I would manage the feat; more, I was driven- obsessed with the idea of forcing him to admit his crime and exacting payment for it. Even if it meant giving up the names of the Hlaalu conspirators. After all, what was House Hlaalu to me? Nothing, and less than nothing. I felt a twinge of my sadly stunted conscience over the Widow Llethan, but I rationalized it by insisting that the result would be all she desired. After all, if Helseth was brought low, would she really care how it came about? All of my self-justification did not prepare me for what was to happen. I should have seen it coming, but I was so wrapped in my own misery and anger that I did not. Having steeled myself for the deed, I presented the letter from Llethan Manor to Tienius Delitian. He looked it over carefully, even checking the watermark on the paper. At last, he gave a satisfied grunt and said,

“This letter you've found is very interesting. Forven Berano, Hloggar the Bloody, and Bedal Alen are obviously conspiring to assassinate King Helseth. This is treason, punishable by death. I will immediately draw up writs for their execution.”

His sentences fell like stones upon my soul. The deaths of these men would be upon me. But it was even worse than I had feared, for Delitian wasn’t finished. With a penetrating stare he added:

“You would do the king a great service if you would execute these traitors.”

So this was what all my plotting and planning had brought me- to play executioner for the man who had been trying to have me murdered. The irony was so choking that I could not completely hold back a sick laugh. Delitian apparently misunderstood, as he said,

“It will be completely legal- if anyone questions you, just show them the writs. Here, let me get them for you.”

With that, he went to a small desk at one side of the Throne Room and appropriated three sheets of parchment from a larger stack. In a very short time, he had returned, bearing the documents that would turn me into a hired sword for the king. I could not help but notice that the only item he had needed to write on each warrant was the name of the…victim. Was it so easy then, to hire murder done? Was that how it had been arranged for me? Had someone come to the king or his guardsman and said,

“There’s this fellow in Vvardenfell, goes by the name of Trey. Out of High Rock originally, but more recently from the Imperial Prison. He’s been talking against the Empire- probably a dangerous character.”

My mind raced as I tried to think of a way out of the trap I had built for myself.

“Fool,” I thought, “Of course they would use something like this to test your ‘loyalty.’ What better way to bind a man to you than with the blood on his hands?”

Not knowing what else to do, I accepted the writs from Delitian and left. It seemed that I was in a box this time, with no way out. But, as I made my way out of the Throne Room, I began to have the faintest glimmer of an idea.