The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Every Day a Walk In The Park... Options

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The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Part Seven

Darius, according to Master Demnevanni, ran his office out of the Madach Tradehouse in Gnisis. So, after translocating there after breaking my fast, I made my way into the lower half of the “shell” that comprised the Tradehouse. Darius was short, stocky, and clad in gorgeous armour – all gilded metal with a flowing red cape. He looked up at me and said, “So, you want to join the Legion do you Citizen Vahl? Well, it’s true that we have a shortage of Manpower ~ and Merpower for that matter. You look capable enough. Tell me, are you capable of following orders?”

“Excellent,” he said when I assured him I was. “It’s a Mer’s life in the Legion. Every day a walk in the park, every meal is a banquet, every pay check a fortune. It’ll make a Ma... Mer of you. Right, Recruit Vahl, here is your regulation-issue chain cuirass. You will wear it when you address a superior officer, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes… sir,” I replied.

Darius shook his head. “The first and last word I want to hear out of your mouth when you address me is ‘Sir’. Now sound out like you got a pair. Do you understand me?”

“Sir, yes Sir,” I said in a clear voice, desperately trying to ignore the sniggering Orc in the corner of the room.

“Outstanding,” he said. “Now get that cuirass on and I’ll give you your orders.

“You might be wondering,” he said once I’d got the chain cuirass in place, “why I am billeted in the Tradehouse? Well, it’s because we have no room to expand. The widow Vabdas has a parcel of land the Legion needs to expand. I want you to come back to me with the deeds as quickly as possible. Is that understood?”

“Sir, yes Sir,” I replied, turning to march out of the room. As I went up the stairs, I heard General Darius addressing the Orcish Trooper, “gro-Khazor, what is your major malfunction?”

Vabdas had a house just west of town, out past Arvs-Drelen, so it wasn’t difficult to get to. Her reaction, when I spoke to her about the land-deed was to slap me across the face ~ hard. I suppressed the spells that roared into my mind and, speaking carefully, said, “you would be wise not to do that again.”

“Why?” she snapped, and now I could see the tears in her eyes. “Because you’ll kill me like you did Mansilamat?”

“I assure you ma’am,” I told her, “I had no part in the death of Mansilamat. Tell me what happened…” Bit by patient bit, I dragged the story from her. It seems that her husband, the aforementioned Mansilamat, had gone to the Egg-Mine at Gnisis to get some eggs. There, according to the widow, the Legion had killed her husband.

As I walked back towards Gnisis, I reflected that whatever power controls my life has an infinite capacity for capriciousness. What should have been the simple acquisition of a deed to some land had now become a murder investigation. Of course, that was how General Darius saw it and he told me to obtain proof that the Legion had been involved. Fortunately, the guard at the door of the Egg-Mine proved amenable to my charming behaviour and, after checking that there was nobody watching, he gave me the key to the door.

There was a familiar stink about the mine, one that I remembered from the Mudan-Mul Mine. Drawing my sword, I advanced with some care. Fortunately, whatever was blighting the mine was confined to the lower quarters and the Scribs in the upper chambers were not aggressive. I wish the same could be said of Trooper gro-Ogdum. The Orc gave me a three count to get the Oblivion out of the area he was guarding. As quickly as I could, I chose one of the passages and headed off down it. From up ahead I could hear the drip-drip of water and a strange noise ~ like wind. As I rounded the corner, I came upon the source of the sound. There, in the middle of the passage, was an Ancestral Spirit.

“Hear me Mortal,” it moaned, as I made ready to swing my sword, “Stay your hand ~ I am Mansilamat Vabdas, I was murdered, most foully, by the Orc Lugrub gro-Ogdum. I beg you, avenge me…” The last syllable was drawn out as the spectre faded from view. I knew that the word of an apparition would carry no weight with General Darius: I needed more proof. I found it in the depth of the pool nearby ~ the corpse of Mansilamat and a notched Imperial axe.

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“I’ll have a word with Mast… the wizard, sir,” I said, silently cursing at myself for nearly calling him ‘Master Demnevanni’. General Darius might give the appearance of a bumbling military idiot, first-class, but he was anything but. With a smart salute, I turned and left Darius’ office ~ aware that he was looking at me in a very speculative manner.

‘Pot’ firmly on my head, shield slung over my arm, and cuirass gleaming, I marched into Arvs-Drelen and navigated the corridors to Baladas’ chambers.

“Well look at you,” he chortled, walking around me as I stood there. “Quite impressive I must say.” We looked at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing. After a while, Baladas wiped his eyes and said, “Well, I’m guessing that you didn’t come here just to show off your fashionable uniform…”

“What do you know of a Ragash gra-Shuzgub?” I asked.

“Had the bloody cheek to come to me asking for taxes,” he snarled, his face going flushed. “Me, who was here before this… this… empire of Men with their taxes. I refused to pay and, when the Orc persisted, I stuck her in the cell downstairs.”

“Ahh,” I said. “See, there’s a problem there. The Empire expects all its citizens to pay taxes, regardless. However, I think I can promise that you’ll not be bothered for taxes again.” Baladas looked at me flatly for a moment, and then nodded and fetched a large iron key from his desk. As I turned to leave, he said, “By the by Arch-Magister, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about an Argonian named Miles Durango would you?”

“Why, should I?” I asked, biting my bottom lip.

Baladas snorted laughter, “thought as much,” he said. “He had a glass dagger belonging to me. I had to… ahh, discipline him about it.”

“Oh dear,” I said sweetly, “I hope you weren’t too harsh on him.” Baladas got that twinkle in his eye and went over to a set of shelves nearby. From it he fetched a glass globe – inside of which was a tiny figure: if you squinted really hard, you could just see that it was an Argonian. “That’s an awfully good likeness,” I said.

“Not an image my dear,” Baladas said, shaking the globe. I fancied I could hear a tiny, indistinct scream as the figure tumbled around the inside. I nodded, and raised my eyes to meet Baladas’: he was regarding me coolly, obviously making a salient point. Time, I thought, to make a point of my own.

Taking the glass globe from his hand, I took off my glove and focused the skills that Jaron had honed ~ pouring the power into the globe. With a smile, I handed it back to him. He gasped as his fingers struck the icy-cold surface, tears springing to his eyes as the globe, so cold it burned flesh, adhered to his hand. Calmly I took the globe and allowed the spell to dissipate before holding it up in my ungloved hand in front of Baladas. He grinned sheepishly, taking the globe and setting it on the desk. “Point taken Arch-Magister,” he conceded.

Ragash was only too pleased to allow me to escort her out of the tower. When we got outside, I had a few words for her. “It was unwise to go and see Demnevanni about taxes, unwise and dangerous.”

“He has to pay,” she protested gruffly, “everybody does.”

“True,” I said, “but then not everybody can turn you into a Guar if you annoy them too much.”

“He wouldn’t dare turn me into something… unnatural,” she gasped.

“He dared to lock you up didn’t he?” I asked. She gave me a worried look and scurried off. General Darius was amused by the way I’d dealt with the matter and scribbled a note that he said would be delivered by his most diplomatic officer: exempting Baladas from paying taxes. ‘For the general good of the local populace’ was how he phrased it.

“I have a different task for you,” he said. “Come to my attention that some of the chaps dabbling in the Cult of Talos are, perhaps, getting a little out of hand. Some sort of conspiracy going on, don’t know what. It’s all rather sordid and distasteful to my mind. Sort it out for me would you?”

Well, that was a barrelful of trouble, and no mistake. Still, I was generally quite liked by the troopers ~ well, the non-Orcish ones anyway ~ so I might be able to charm some information out of them. With that in mind, I went to the mess hall and got myself some lunch.

“Well, fancy meeting you here,” a deep voice rumbled. Looking up I saw Trooper Din standing by my table. “Is this seat free?”

I nodded and he sat down. We got talking and he told me he was career army, signed on for the long haul (35 years). I explained that I had signed on for a short-term career, just to teach myself some useful skills. Eventually, I managed to manoeuvre the conversation around to the Talos Cult.

“Oritius Maro is the person to see,” Din said uneasily. I asked him if there was a problem. After a moment’s thought, he said, “there’s something going on. Closed meetings, cultists getting together at odd times… I don’t like it,” he added. “That sort of thing leads to trouble, mark my words.” Glancing around, he leaned in and whispered a single word before getting up and walking away, most of his meal uneaten.

I finished my meal in silence, turning down several offers to join various groups. I was considering what Din had whispered, the word “mutiny”. While it wouldn’t bother me overly if the Legion tore itself to pieces, there was another matter to consider. And that was what the Empire’s response was likely to be. Even at the most optimistic, the Empire was likely to strike back quite hard. And that wouldn’t be good for the House. So, I thought, scraping the remains of the meal into the bin, Oritius Maro.

“Well, if you’re at all interested,” the florid-faced Man said, “you should see Arius Rulician down in the Shrine. It can do a soldier’s career the power of good, belonging to the Cult.”

“Tell me about the Cult,” I said. He smiled and proceeded to launch into a lengthy monologue about Talos, or Emperor Septim the First. Long story, short: The Cult of Emperor Zero worships and venerates Septim I as a sort of living avatar. I’d heard stories of this, Talos the Ninth Divine, back on the mainland but never paid much attention. Maro went on to explain that the Cult was very much like a guild in as much as it looked after its own. “And,” he concluded, “there are some very highly placed officers who belong to the Cult.”

Arius Rulician was the complete anti-thesis of Mero. Tall where Mero was short, thin where Mero was rotund, with a long, thin face that wore a habitual frown. Despite his pleasant greetings when I entered the shrine, he was obviously annoyed about something. “We’re always on the lookout for new cultists,” he said, “take a look around and see if you like what you see.”

The shrine was unremarkable as Cult shrines go ~ a large tapestry behind a votive altar. Rows of small seats and prayer-stools. ‘Holy’ artefacts on the altar ~ an ancient metal gauntlet and a broadsword in this case. The only thing that struck me as odd was the ornately carved stone box that sat in the middle of the altar. Having taken a look around, I thanked Rulician and said I was due on duty shortly but, when I finished, I’d be back to discuss joining the cult.

As soon as I was out of his sight, I donned the ring and activated the Shadow-Weave spell. Then, invisible to the naked eye, I stepped back into the shrine. It was the work of but a moment to shatter the lock of the casket and take the contents: a tightly rolled parchment.

General Darius threw the parchment down onto his desk in disgust, his face as dark as a thundercloud. “Traitorous, disloyal dogs,” he spat. “Planning to assassinate the Emperor. Deal with them Vahl,” he added, venomously, “You have my full authority.”

“Fall in, single file!” I thundered, stepping into the barracks and slapping the General’s baton against my leg. “Look lively now.” When everyone was lined up, I stood in front of them and said, “Right, anyone who’s not a traitor to Uriel Septim, take one step backwards. Not so fast you two,” I said, pointing at Mero and Rulician. Ashen-faced, they returned to their original position.

“These two,” I said, pointing at the pair ~ one short and round, the other tall and thin ~ “are plotting to assassinate the Emperor when he visits Vvardenfell. I have the evidence here…” I held up the parchment so that they could all see it “…in my hand. Now, Mero and Rulician have been here a while ~ the Divines alone know how many others they’ve convinced to take part in this cowardly plot. All those unwilling to bring Imperial justice to these traitors on the left side of the room, those loyal to the Empire to the right.”

Not surprisingly, there was a sudden stampede to stand on the right-hand side of the room. “Any last words?” I asked Mero and Rulician. Rulician shook his head.

“Well, this is another fine mess you’ve gotten me into, Arius,” Oritius Mero snapped as I ordered the assembled soldiers to draw their swords. As the ‘loyal’ soldiers meted out Imperial justice, I took my leave of the barracks and returned the baton to General Darius. He shared my conviction that there were still traitors to be weeded out, but he was willing to leave that to the ‘appropriate authorities’ ~ which, I guessed, would be Caius Cosades.

“I have new orders for you,” General Darius said. “You are to report to Fort Moonmoth on the morrow. There you will be given officer training and advanced combat training before reporting to Radd Hard-Heart.”