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]

I considered confronting Gothren again after receiving Dratha’s vote- it seemed likely that the Archmagister had counted on her misanthropy to thwart my quest. Between Dratha’s reputation and Gothren’s delaying tactics, I would have enjoyed watching his face as I casually mentioned my accomplishment. In the end, tempting as that notion was, I let it go. After all, there was still one more vote to win, and it was far from a sure thing. If I confronted Gothren too soon, he might bend his considerable power to ensuring that I never even got a chance to speak to Therana. It isn’t prudent to become too much of an annoyance to someone who can summon and control Dremora lords. So instead, I found myself traveling to Tel Branora, at the extreme southern tip of Vvardenfell’s east coast. As I made the long trek, I considered what I had learned about House Telvanni. So far, I had met with four of the councilors, including the Archmagister, and I was not impressed. Of them all, only Aryon commanded my respect- for his pragmatism, if nothing else. But the others…? Beyond living for incredible spans of time in hard to reach towers and keeping dangerous pets, they seemed mostly interested in thwarting each other at every turn. It was as if the accumulation of power had become an end in itself, a way of keeping score, and they no longer even considered how that power might be used. They were like a bunch of children fighting for possession of a single toy in a room that was filled with equally interesting things to play with. They were rude and eccentric and dangerous…and those were their GOOD qualities. It was no wonder that someone like Divayth Fyr chose to go his own way- for all of his arrogance, he at least sought a cure for a disease that was feared throughout Vvardenfell. As for the others, again excepting Aryon, they seemed to be locked into ever tightening spirals of madness. Which meant that meeting Therana was going to be…interesting, given that even the other Telvanni considered her insane.

My arrival in Tel Branora was accompanied by a driving rainstorm, complete with thunder and lightning, and I tried not to think too hard about omens and portents. The entirety of the village was the dock and a couple of shacks on stilts, so I asked the shipmaster for directions. Nireli Farys looked somewhat put upon, but warmed up after I crossed her palm with a few coins. She pointed out the tower itself, which stood to the east, and noted that all the available services were located within. She then named the main inhabitants- Therana, of course; her second-in-command, Darvasa Vedas; and guard captain, Mollimo of Cloudrest. Then, almost as an aside, she mentioned someone named Trerayna Dalen, “Therana’s Telvanni challenger.” When I asked for a further explanation of that last, Nireli would not say any more than that it was Telvanni business and that I would be wise to stay out of it. That suited me perfectly; I had my own business with the Telvanni; whatever they chose to do amongst themselves was of no consequence to me.

As I made my way toward the tower, I noticed a half-dozen people huddled in the lee of a tall boulder, trying their best to stay out of the rain. Their leader was obviously a Dunmer woman in sorcerer’s robes, who was also noticeable due to the fact that the rain drops seemed not to fall upon her. The rest were accoutered in a mix of bonemold and steel armor, and carried themselves with the arrogant grace of mercenaries. As I came closer, the leader called me over with an imperious gesture, saying,

“Outlander. I would speak with you.”

When I cautiously approached, she said,

“I am Trerayna Dalen, of Great House Telvanni. I would advise you to stay out of things that do not concern you. This affair is between myself and Therana. I want no help and I will tolerate no interference.”

The part of me that had gotten into so much trouble over the years longed to respond to her arrogance with sarcasm, but I bit back on answering that what she wanted or tolerated concerned me not at all. Instead, I gave a nod of acknowledgement and continued along the path to the tower. As I approached, I could not help but to shake my head. Why did all of these Telvanni assume that everything that happened in the world was about them? It seemed to me that isolation and the pursuit of power took a toll on their ability to recognize that a great deal of the world was sublimely indifferent to them and their activities. It also made me rather thankful that Azura had intervened to prevent me from achieving my ambition to become “Trey, the crazy old alchemist in the tower.” Although that did not balance the books of what the goddess had done to me, it was a down payment.

Therana’s tower was composed of a thick central spire, with curved branches forming walkways to the various levels. Doors had been cut into the spire at several places, and I began looking for one that would lead to the Upper Tower. Before I could enter, a figure dressed in Dwemer armor and one of those Telvanni helms that looked like a squid was swallowing his head stopped me. He introduced himself as Mollimo of Cloudrest then said,

“Outlander. Would you like to earn some gold? Take care of Trerayna Dalen for me. She's a petty annoyance, but Mistress Therana won't let me leave the tower to take care of her. Don't be fooled by her thugs. The armor is impressive, but there's not much inside it. Kill Trerayna Dalen, and I'll pay you 1000 gold.”

I put the Altmer off for the moment by telling him that I would think about it, and continued into the tower. Although I had become more philosophical about some things, it still annoyed me to be taken for a hired sword. Perhaps my outfit confused people- certainly the Daedric sword I carried was an impressive weapon. Then, my friend Sul-Matuul had told me where I could find some glass greaves to go with my cuirass. And the gods knew I had killed more people than I cared to remember since coming to Vvardenfell. The fact that most of those killings had been self-defense did not ease my conscience all that much, though. The deaths weighed upon me, but I wondered if something in the face that I presented to the world said, “Killer, stay away.” Mollimo was an experienced mercenary- was there something about me that made him think I was in the same profession? Regardless, I had never killed for money. And I never would.

The interior of Tel Branora was disturbing. First, the place seemed to be hot and stuffy, filled with the scent of dried herbs. But underneath the herbs was an odor of something less pleasant, something the should have been buried long ago. The entry hall was “decorated,” that is the only word, with peculiar arrangements of kwama eggs. As I moved deeper inside, I saw more signs of disorder or struggle- overturned bookshelves, their contents strewn across the floor, plates and cups scattered in confusion. Yet the people I met, while not friendly, seemed unconcerned by the chaos, as if the disruption was normalcy. At last, I made my way to the central flyway and found Therana’s chamber. Inside I found a cadaverous-looking Telvanni woman and a Khajiit slave. The chaos of the rest of the tower was repeated here- gem stones were tossed on the floor and a cheery fire was fueled by books. The mad eyes of the Telvanni glared at me and her dust-dry voice croaked,

“What are you here for? Are you here to feed the spiders?”