Serene of Cyrodiil, chapter 5, Home is where your Heart is... Options

[minque]

Family isn't about whose blood you have. It's about who you care about

Trey Parker and Matt Stone, South Park, Cat Orgy, 1999


Chapter 5, Home is where your heart is

Before I continue with the story of the upcoming events in Ald´Ruhn, I think I want to say a few words about Intervention-scrolls, and spells for that matter!

It seems so utterly easy and convenient; you speak an incantation, either written on a piece of parchment, or you know it by heart, then all of a sudden you are somewhere else, just like that...

Of course it’s not that easy, all who have used this kind of transportation know what I´m talking about. You actually decompose yourself, your physical body, into its building-stones, and then you put them all together somewhere else, all magically of course. Now that has to affect you somehow and it surely affected me, when I suddenly found myself in the courtyard of the Ald´Ruhn Temple that rainy morning.....

The actual travel, or intervention, feels like you’re totally weightless, flowing in the void, whirling like an autumn-leaf. You have no idea what’s up and down, your intestines are all spinning around, or at least it feels like they are. Darkness and pain engulf you, the very air around you is filled with the most terrible screams from poor souls that never reached their destination.... and you are certain you will never get out of it alive. But of course you do, that is if you don’t happen to meet anything hostile where you end up.

The Almsivi-Intervention brings you directly to the nearest Tribunal Temple, so as I mentioned, I ended up outside the Ald´Ruhn Temple. I was shaken and nauseous, and it took a while before I could compose myself enough to gather my scattered belongings, check that all was there and head off to a well-known place, at least for me; the Mage’s Guild!

Ironically, I always seemed to be in a mess when visiting this Guild house, so it was no wonder Edwinna Elbert laughed when she greeted me.

“Serene! How wonderful to see you again.....but you look like you need to use our washing-facilities- as usual- I’d say!”

After a hot and invigorating bath I sat down in Edwinna´s office, wrapped in a worn but warm robe, telling her of my adventures with the Ashlanders.

“You need to go and see Neminda,” Edwinna advised me when I told her about my last encounter with Azura. “You belong to House Redoran, and they will most certainly take care of you, my child.”

So later that afternoon I went to Under Skar, to the Redoran Council-hall, once again dressed up by the generous Mages of Ald´Ruhn, to meet with Neminda.

She was pleased to see me but commented on how thin and wiry I’d become since the last time we met; it was no wonder though after living almost a year among the Ashlanders. When I told her about my time in the Ahemmusa Camp she listened carefully without a word until I came to the part about the Outlander who was asking to be named the Nerevarine, then she interrupted my telling;

“Ah, I know that man, he’s adopted into House Redoran, and he has a very good reputation within the Great House. He is a Breton as far as I know, from High Rock....He doesn’t speak so much about himself…” Neminda smiled, “But forgive my interruption, Serene, continue please.”

After I finished my story and also told her about Azura´s prophecy about “claiming my family,” Neminda sat silent for a while, in deep thoughts. Finally, she spoke:

“ Serene, I think I know the meaning of the words of The Divine. Leave now, and go to the Temple and talk to Lloros Sarano. He is a wise man and I think you may find it useful to talk to him.”

The Temple of Ald´Ruhn was rather small, just a few rooms on the ground-level, and then a bigger area downstairs. A rather friendly-looking Dunmer approached me upon my entering the premises and introduced himself as Lloros Sarano. It turned out he was a temple-servant, specialised in mental illnesses and healing, which made him utterly interesting to talk to. There were not many healers around Ald´Ruhn at the moment so he was happy to meet me so he could discuss his latest experiences in the noble art of healing. Or at least that was how I explained his questions regarding my own experiences with healing and restorative magic.

I spent the night in the Mage’s Guild, and the next morning I paid another visit to Neminda.

“Serene, it so happens that Serjo Athyn Sarethi, one of our councillors, may be able to help you out....he is a friend of my father and has had a lot of sad things happening to him and his family lately.” Neminda sighed and continued: “First his son was kidnapped, then he was the victim of an assassination-attempt, then he is almost certain his wife is betraying him, and above all his son was charged with murder.”

I gasped, thinking that there was no end to this poor man’s misfortunes, but also wondering where I fit into this? I couldn´t see the connections....not at all.

“Athyn is most of all concerned about his son, Varvur. He is back home, and his name is cleared, but he is in a very bad shape, he has lost his will to keep on living, he’s just lying on his bed, staring into the air, not talking to anyone, not eating....he seems to be determined to die. Athyn is at his wit’s end, he doesn’t know what to do, now when Trey’s gone and all.” Neminda sighed once more and blew her nose.

“Trey?” I asked, “Is he that outlander I met?”

He was, and since he also was the saviour of both Athyn´s and Varvur´s lives and honour, according to Neminda, I could very well understand the loss the old councillor felt.

“Words spread fast in these surroundings,” Neminda smiled, “Serjo Sarethi knows about you, Serene, and he knows you’re back!....So go to Sarethi Manor and talk to him..”

Sarethi Manor didn’t look very fancy from outside, just another door in the wall, but inside was a completely different thing. A spacious hallway, with ornaments on the walls and a thick red carpet on the floor, sloped slowly downwards, leading to a huge room, with austere furnishings....

The man that approached me was at least double my age, tall, with black, grey-streaked hair, dark-red very sad eyes and a face that showed he had had his share of life and it had not been all pleasant. Yet it was a fascinating face, pointed cheekbones, straight nose and a strangely sensitive mouth. I couldn´t take my eyes off him.....

“Serene was it, right?” His dark voice had this magnetism that affected me more deeply than I then realized!

“Y-yes” I stuttered, “Neminda sent me, she thought maybe you could have some use for me.”

Athyn Sarethi smiled, led me to a chair and bade me sit down. The fate of young Varvur Sarethi was sad. The young man had been kidnapped by the Archmaster of House Redoran, Bolvyn Venim, accused of a crime he didn’t commit. Although it was actually more complicated- he probably HAD fought with the other young man, but had been under the influence of malign magic at the time. It was a well-understood point of Dunmeri (as well as Imperial) law that a person was not responsible for their actions if they where bespelled. He had been rescued from Venim Manor by the outlander known as Trey of High Rock; as Athyn mentioned the young Breton, his face brightened, almost glowing. I understood this man was very dear to him. Still, Varvur was accused of the murder of his best friend, Bralen Carvaren, so not only did he loose his friend, he was suspected to have taken his life! The whole thing sounded absurd to me but I kept my mouth shut.

Trey again acted and cleared Varvur from the accusations, but Varvur was mentally in a very bad shape ever after. As he spoke of his son’s worsening condition, the animation left Athyn’s face and he clasped his hands before him so tightly that I could see the knuckles whiten. He gave me a long, searching look before he spoke-

“Serene, it is my understanding that you are a healer of great skill- perhaps even greater than you know yourself. I have spoken with Lloros Sarano- I asked him to determine whether the stories of your skill are accurate…forgive me if that seems intrusive, but I had a pressing need….”

He then made his request- my task was to cure Varvur...one way or another, and the worst thing was....I had not the faintest idea how to do it!

[minque]

Ok...here we go again, and forgive me for taking so long to update this story...


After helping Athyn to bed, I went on to see Varvur. Strangely enough he hadn’t been awakened by the commotion in the great chambers, but obviously the walls of Sarethi Manor were thick enough to hide any kind of noise. I didn’t see Domesea either, but she was probably not at home…at all.

Varvur was sleeping when I entered his bedroom. As before the stench in the room was remarkable so I left the door open in order to get some fresh air into it.

I unpacked my satchel at the table; I had brought some comberry-wine and also a small pot containing a thick yellow liquid. I looked at it and my thoughts started to wander; to Fort Buckmoth, the Training Camp…Lalatia Vabdas, the woman who showed me the secret of making the wonderful thing called honey. I gently stroked the small pot…

The comberry-wine was dark red and smelled delicious as I slowly heated the mug over the open fire in the corner of the room. I poured a good spoonful of honey into the warm wine, together with a selection of herbs that Edwinna gave me, meant to give me strength, but I figured Varvur was in more need for that at the moment. I tasted the wine to find out how it tasted, it was quite delicious, and I hoped Varvur would like it.

“Varvur! Wake up, I’ve got something for you” I gently shook his shoulder, but he just groaned and turned to the side. I waited patiently till the scent of the wine finally reached his nostrils and he sat up in his bed, peering suspiciously at me

“Well it’s you again,” he muttered. “What is that smell?” I handed him the mug, and he frowned a bit but then took a small sip…His eyes widened and he took a whole mouthful of the ruby liquid.

“What is it!!!? It’s…it’s good! Really good!”

I smiled faintly as Varvur Sarethi emptied the mug. He looked at me, slowly shaking his head.

“You…you witch, what more tricks do you know?” He was smiling as he uttered those words, then his gaze went downwards to my skirt and too late I understood he’d seen the dark stains on it, his father’s blood…

“Is that….is that blood?” he whispered, turning pale. “What’s happened? Is Father at home?” Varvur´s voice rose to a scream; he dropped the mug on the floor and grabbed my arm fiercely. I grimaced; his grasp was quite painful and I struggled to get loose.

“It’s ok, Varvur! There were some assassins, but Trey took care of it all, so you don’t have to worry, your Father is alright…now.” The last word just slipped my mouth, which I regretted immediately as Varvur jumped to his feet, and grabbed me by both shoulders, vigorously shaking me as he shouted in agony;

“NOW? You tell me, you damned witch, what happened to my Father? Did somebody hurt him? I’ll …I’ll hurt you if he’s not ok!”

I took a deep breath, grasping both his hands and forcing him to let go of me, I had to use my whole concentration, had to force him to look me in the eyes to calm him down…

“Listen to me Varvur! Your Father is ok! Trey took care of those assassins and I…I took care of your Father, he…he was hurt but he’s quite well now.”

It was as if the sudden outburst of strength totally wore Varvur out, for he suddenly just sank down on the bed again, covering his face with his hands. I sat down beside him, putting my arm around his shoulders…and there Varvur broke down in tears, revealing the sad story of his young life;

“My sister, Satyana, was ten years older than me, she was such a strong, beautiful girl, intelligent but ever so stubborn. She always went her own way…Father was so proud of her, he always said she would one day be the Archmaster of our Great House, and she would make a good one, he said.”

“Our Mother disliked that; she did not approve of Satyana being so strong and man-like; she wanted her to be more like a lady, to get married into one of the noble Redoran-families…That’s what caused her go away, and she never…came back, she’s probably dead, a twenty year old girl can’t survive out there!”

I remained silent, thinking that I had survived out there and I was just sixteen when I left home….and if Satyana was as strong as he said she was…

“I was very weak as a child, always suffering from some sort of illness or fear…there wasn’t a day I didn’t cry for some reason or another. Satyana always defended me when the others mocked me and teased me…but after she left…”

Varvur´s shoulders were shaking heavily, I embraced him, patting his back and letting him take his time; obviously he needed to let all his grief out and all I could do was to be there, listening to him.

“I love my Father deeply, but I never have managed to make him proud of me, I’ve always let him down, dishonoured the Sarethi-name! I can’t handle a sword; I can’t hunt down a Kagouti or even a scrib, because I can’t stand the sight of blood…or any kind of violence.”

“Varvur, has your Father at any time blamed you for that?” I asked softly. He looked at me, his face swollen and wet from tears, and shook his head.

“No…no...But it’s compulsory amongst Redoran men to at least be able to defend your house and family, and I’m unable to…as you’ve seen!” Varvur began to cry again.

“If I was a disappointment to my parents, my younger brother Salyn wasn’t. He was all what they could wish for, bold, strong, fit and sound. He still is a glory to his house and family, but he also left home, leaving just lousy me behind!

“Varvur, I’m sure you have something else in you to compensate for you lack of the ordinary Redoran skills,” I noticed I sounded more like a teacher than a friend to confide in, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Books! I like to read…and I’m rather good at numbers….” His voice was hoarse and guttural; I scarcely heard what he said.
“But that doesn’t help my Father does it? That big bastard Bolvyn Venim wants him dead so he can continue courting my mother!” Again Varvur´s voice broke into a scream.

I felt an ice-cold hand grip my heart, as the pieces fell into place. So it was Bolvyn Venim who sent those assassins after Athyn!

“But...but you can’t be sure,” I whispered, still unwilling to believe that the Archmaster of my own adopted House could be so wicked.

“Can’t I? I’ve caught them in the very act! I was seeing Vendrela, to borrow some books, and I happened to open the wrong door! And…and there they were! Like animals…” Varvur sobbed desperately. I just held on to him; it must have been a terrible experience for him seeing his mother in the arms…or rather in the bed of Bolvyn Venim.

“He came to me the day after, said I’d have to shut up about what I saw…or else. He obviously didn’t trust me, because three weeks later Bralen was killed and I got the blame for it and he locked me up in his Manor. Trey got me out alright, but I’m too scared to even leave my room. He’ll find me and somehow find a way to put another spell on me, expose me to another Ash-statue, or something…and eventually make me kill my Father!”

“Varvur, NO! No he won’t, I’ll make sure he won’t!”

Varvur looked at me again, this time scornfully, “How can you possibly prevent that?”

I didn’t answer; I just went to the table to prepare another mug of warm honey-sweetened wine. As I did, my hands were shaking, for I did not know how to handle this situation anymore, but I’d have to ask him an important question.

“Does your Father know about Archmaster Venim and your mother?”

“No…of course not! Everybody else seems to know but he’d be the last….and believe me, it would kill him if he found out!”

I nodded but said nothing; I had this weird feeling that Athyn in fact knew subconsciously that Domesea had betrayed him, but he suppressed it deep inside himself. In some ways, his own honour worked against him- he could not, or would not see that others were capable of such deceit.

Then I got this idea…