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]

It was hard to blame Berano and Alen for deciding that escape was their best option. After all, they had never seen me before I came to them with the news that Helseth was aware of their conspiracy and had issued execution writs. The last one left was Hloggar, and even his Hlaalu masters doubted his ability to do the job. Nevertheless, I decided that I owed him the same chance that I had inadvertently given the others; if he wanted to stand and fight the king, I would welcome him; if he wanted to run, I would not hinder him. Just the same, given the Nord’s reputation for violence, I did not really look forward to confronting him in the sewers. It felt rather like going into the den of a hungry bear to ask what he would like for dinner.

Somehow, I had missed Hloggar’s camp when I had been engaged in the goblin hunt- the bodies of the goblins and their durzog pets merely added another layer to the miasma of the sewers beneath the Palace. The fact that Hloggar had managed to stay alive down here despite the presence of the goblin army spoke volumes about his martial skills. Once I reached the West Sewers, I made my way to a side tunnel that I had not explored and soon saw a massive armored figure standing beside a small fire. Bones and empty drink bottles were scattered around a simple bedroll, and a small crate did service for a chair. Keeping my hands well away from my sword, I stepped into the light and called,

“Hello, the camp. May I approach?”

That was more than common courtesy- it was common sense. Only a fool walked up on a stranger unannounced in a place like the sewers. And if one were not a fool and was ill-intentioned… well, then he did not walk up at all, but instead let loose an arrow or five from the shadows. The man that turned to regard me would have been right at home in a bear’s den- and he might not bother to ask the bear to move out, first. If he had been clad in animal pelts instead of battered Imperial silver armor, I would have wondered if I had gone back a thousand years or more to the time that men lived in caves. His face could have done service as the stone wall of a cave, as well, complete with the ancient markings of his ancestors. After giving me a long, considering look, the massive Nord spoke:

“Come forward, then, and be welcome or be damned. It makes no difference to me. If ye’ve come for a drink or a fight or to hear a saga or even for all three, well then, speak yer pleasure and ye shall have it. I am Hloggar the Bloody, son of Einar the Rover, and I can out-drink and out-fight anything that walks on two legs or four. I be not a skaal, but I can tell a tale that’ll curl that fine blonde hair on yer head. Ye have the look of a Breton, but I’d vow that the rovers of Skyrim must have visited yer village in the past- yer eyes have the look of the sea in ‘em, damn me if they don’t.”

He stopped then and took a massive gulp from a jug of sujamma, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. With a rumbling belch, he offered the jug to me and added,

“Ach, that yarnin’ is thirsty work. Now, who be ye and what be yer business?”

Although I really did not like the taste of the fiery alcohol, I took the jug and forced down a swallow of sujamma. That was how it was done- we might fight later, but I had taken a drink with him, which meant that the rules would be observed. The rules that said even if we tried to kill each other, we would give fair warning before the ear-biting, eye-gouging, and other mayhem commenced. That was civilized conduct in Nord society.

There did not seem to be any reason to waste time, so I just got right to the point.

“Look, Hloggar, here’s how it is- Helseth wants you dead. He hired me to do it. But I have a different idea- how about we team up and finish off the little scrib? You should know that Forven Berano and Bedal Alen have already left town, so you’re on your own.”

Hloggar thought over my words for some time, tugging gently on his beard as he considered. At last, he heaved a great sigh and shook his head.

“Nay, lad, nay. ‘Twould be a grand fight and all, yerself and me against Helseth and all his bully-boys. But there’s no guarantee that we would win. The two of us against all of them would be a worthy saga, but I don’t really believe that I would be around to hear it sung. Besides that, who would pay me? Nay, I love a good scrap, but I love the clink of coin in my purse, too. Berano and Alen have slipped anchor, ye say, so there’s no chance of getting any money. I thank ye for the warning, and now I’ll be on my way.”

With that, he activated a Recall amulet and left me standing beside his abandoned camp.

I was sorely tempted to finish off whatever alcoholic beverages the Nord had left behind, but soon thought better of it. His hideout was not all that far from the place where I had confronted a large group of goblins- there might still be a few lurking in the tunnels. Besides, if I was going to come up with a way to defeat Helseth, I would need a clear head. As had always been true, I was on my own. It was no surprise that the Hlaalu had all run from the fight when I offered them the chance for vengeance- their concept of honor was all about profit and loss. There was nothing for it but to go back to the Palace and report to Tienius Delitian. Of course, I would have to come up with a reasonable story to explain my “failure.” Fortunately, Delitian had finally made a mistake when he admitted to having me shadowed during the Temple informant mission. I had managed to spot and slip away from all of his spies. No one should be able to report my actual conversations with the Hlaalu- I hoped. As I thought about Delitian’s possible angry reaction, I began to get an idea. The best way to win a fight was to do so before it even started. And the way to do that was to get in the first punch.

The guard captain actually looked a little startled when I stormed into the Throne Room and started shouting.

“Look, Captain, I’ve done everything you asked me to do. And I think that I have done it well. So I don’t appreciate being set up to take the blame for your failures! What were you playing at, sending me out after a bunch of Hlaalu who had already got the word and left town?”

With that, I drew out the writs of execution and threw them at his feet. I found that, rather than having to manufacture the semblance of anger, my main effort was in keeping my real rage in check. Of course, the cause of that anger was not that the Hlaalu had been tipped off, but rather the way I was being used. Not giving Delitian a chance to respond, I continued:

“Anyway, I’m starting to get a little suspicious of these ‘orders from the king.’ You keep telling me ‘the king wants this, the king wants that, the king is pleased.’ All I see is you giving the orders. Where is the king, anyway? Is he even here? Or is this all just your own independent operation?”

Sanity came back like a splash of cold water, as I realized that this man could cut me down where I stood, and no one would bat an eye. My tirade ran out of steam, and Delitian finally had a chance to get a word in. With his usual dogged focus on the task at hand, he ignored my pointed questions and instead asked,

“Forven Berano, Hloggar the Bloody, and Bedal Alen have escaped? All three? There must be a leak here at the Palace. Well, you've done the best you could. You have my thanks. But still, it was a failure, you must agree. Perhaps if you had been quicker, you might have caught up with them. But that is done. For now, I have a new assignment. I'd like your help finding the anonymous writer of 'The Common Tongue'.”

Suppressing a groan, I folded my arms and asked,

“You want me to find the writer…and then what?”

Blandly, the captain said,

“We'd like you to persuade him to stop printing such lies about King Helseth. When we make official inquiries, people just look stupid and assure us they have no idea what we are talking about. We think you may have better luck -- particularly if you approach less-reputable citizens -- persons who place profit above honor. Ask around and discover who is writing these lies. Then find him and persuade him to stop printing lies. The manner of the persuasion is left to your discretion. You WILL be discreet, of course. We don't want to appear to be threatening the time-honored Imperial traditions of encouraging free speech.”

I managed to throttle my immediate response, which was to point out that nothing in the broadsheet could precisely be called “a lie.” It probably would not aid my cause to blurt out that I thought the king was perhaps the most devious, murderous creature I had ever heard of this side of Oblivion. Perhaps that was where he was spending his time, trading stories with Mephala and Clavicus Vile. Wherever he might be hiding, it did not matter. For now I had another “little job” to do for him. Yet again, I would have to seek out someone who should have been my ally and deliver him into the hands of my enemy. Going back to cleaning out a stable was starting to look better and better. At least with that job, a bath would make me feel clean again.