Agent, Ebonheart's finest Options

[jack cloudy]

Yesterday was my birthday so here's my belated gift to all of you. The start of a new fanfic! (Wings of Light will be continued as well.) You may notice a shift of focus compared to my earlier fanfics.




Agent.
Chapter 1: In training.

My knees were shivering. For a good reason, I might say as the Duke towering over me looked very intimidating in his heavy suit of Ebony armour. Just to compare the two of us, the helmet would have been enough to crush me. Also, being dressed in cheap rags has never been a good source of courage. As it was, I had more than enough reasons to be afraid of him.

Who am I? I no longer use the name I was born with. I changed it upon my arrival here on Vvardenfell. Now I finally I have a name I can spell. Anyway, my name is Ro-El Frost. Sounds Khajiit? Maybe, but I am really closer related to the Nords, though without the muscles, the alcohol tolerance, the noise and without the size. Go figure.

The Duke turned to a man wearing some sort of golden armour. Probably the boss of the guard who was blocking the only way out of the room.
,,Is this the kid you were talking about?” The Duke asked with a stern voice. This did not sound well.
,,Yes, that’s the one.” Was the equally stern reply. This was one of those moments that your life would start to fly past your eyes.

How did I get here? Well, I don’t really know to be honest. People claim I must have been on the Skooma to have forgotten how I ever found myself in that mine. I didn’t like it there. The slavers forced me to do hard labour every day. I could feel my life slowly seep away with every single egg I harvested. I had to get out.

My plan took time but it worked in the end, except for one small detail. I harvested some poison one of the Kwama warriors had been spitting at the wall and mixed it with my food for the day. The day after that, I dumped it into the lake that was somehow inside the mine. The food had been swallowed by the Slaughterfish before I’d stepped away. The next part of my plan was the hardest. I’d been warned that the smell of their queen’s blood puts the Kwama into a killing frenzie. This information was meant so that the slaves were careful not to kill themselves, but it could also be used to my advantage.

So as you might guess, tapping blood from the queen is a potentially lethal act. Fortunately, I knew that by tapping just a little through a tiny wound made with my fingernail, the Kwama would not even notice. I carefully kept the blood sealed away inside a bottle till after four days, I’d finally collected enough. That night came the last part of my masterplan.

I managed to convince the slaves to go swimming in the lake, after showing them that the Slaughterfish had died through my act of poisoning. Next, I sprinkled the collected blood on the clothes of the slavers. I managed to get out to the lake before the killing started. I’d never been so glad that Kwama can’t swim. Those things were completely out of control. Which leads me to where I am now.

,,You have caused the death of three Dunmer and would have escaped if my Legionaires weren’t performing a raid at the same time.” The Duke spoke directly to me. Remember the little detail that went wrong? Well two dozen heavily armed soldiers who found a whole angry bunch of Kwama in their face, that’s what went wrong.
,,I thought they would run when the Kwama went mad. I didn’t expect them to die.” Was the weak defense I managed to whisper.

My arm was brusquely grabbed by the guard. The slave bracers I’d been forced to wear clattered on the floor.
,,Ro-El Frost, you have closed down an illegal egg mine and punished those who were responsible. You have further freed their prisoners who are being returned to their families as we speak. All that without harming the Kwama themselves, my men are responsible for that. As such, it is my pleasure as a servant of the great Emperor, Uriel Septim, to grant you your freedom and to take you into my service as an agent in the order of Ebonheart. Serius will escort you to your room.” The Duke now said with a smile and pointed at the guard who had released me from the symbol of slavery.

In a flash of inspiration, I snatched the bracers from the floor before I was dragged out of the room by Serius. We ascended many stairs before he finally threw open a wooden door and pushed me inside. ,,Consider everything in this room to be yours. You’ll be summoned tomorrow at 6 am. Wait inside your room till we come for you.” Serius ordered me before slamming the door shut. Not the nicest guy in the world.

I sat down on the bed and looked around, still unable to believe what had just happened. Instead of being branded as the bad guy and possibly executed, I had been turned into some sort of hero. Not exactly something that happened to me every day.

After I finally admitted to myself that things had turned out alright, I took a look around the room they’d given me. Apart from the bed, there was a closet, a mirror, a desk with several books on it and a sturdy wooden chest. It wasn’t big, but not small either. I opened the closet with the intention of swapping my dirty old rags with something more comfortable. It was cold this time of the year. The closet did not disappoint me. It was filled with all kinds of clothes ranging from simple but sturdy to downright extravagant and fit for a noble. There were shirts, pants, robes, shoes and even a few skirts, though I did not know what I was supposed to do with those. Men don’t wear skirts where I come from. Finally there were a few gloves on a separate rack.

I choose for a simple blue shirt with matching pants and a pair of shoes fit for indoor use. As the last action of the day, I picked up the book lying on top of the pile. ‘History of the Empire, part 1’ it said on the cover. If my idea of an agent was somewhat correct, these books had been placed here for a reason. I had some reading to do.

[jack cloudy]

Umm, I do remember that either Trey, Serene, Telina or one of the other fanfic characters referred to the three known types of Centurions as 1, 2 and 3. This won't work for me though. I've got a lot more Centurion types planned, as you'll see. If I would identify each Centurion by a number, I might end up somewhere in the double digits!




Zarador took a while to wake up again. Once he did, he was clearly in a bad mood.
,,Show yourself, you mindless bandits! Show yourself so I can finish your miserable excuse for a life with my great powers!” He shouted as soon as he got up on his feet. I was sitting a bit further away, near the door, amidst a pile of Centurion bits.
,,They’re dead, old man.” I spoke without looking away from my task.

Zarador said nothing for a few seconds.
,,Well, that’s a good thing. My skill would be sorely wasted on them.” He said in a funny tone. He then noticed what I was doing.
,,My Centurion! What have you done to it?!” He shouted in a panic.

This time, I did look up.
,,I removed all the malfunctioning and damaged parts. A Carrier is out to fetch me the replacements.” I began to explain when the door noisily opened. In came a Dwemer Centurion of a kind that was rarely seen by people. That was to be expected, as combat was not part of its duties so it took cover when the bandits invaded as opposed to seeking conflict. Its six legs supported a spherical body with two heavy arms at the front and a pair of smaller arms hanging underneath its belly. The small ones were designed for the handling of small objects such as a coin or a mug. The large ones were meant for heavy lifting like it was doing right now. Two more of the Carrier Centurions followed, each holding a steel keg. They carefully put their cargo down and then waited in a corner of the large room for further orders.

,,Thank you. I want some maintenance done on the construction facilities. Fetch the Type 2 blueprints from the library and have Construction hall A configured for Type 2 construction. I want production of the Type 2 to be started as soon as possible in Construction hall A. As for their equipment, go for an even spread between Halberds and Crossbows.” I ordered the machines and opened the first keg.
,,What were you babbling all about? And I’ve never seen those before! What are they? Why do they follow your commands?” The scholar in Zarador awoke.

,,I was telling them to start production on the Type 2 Centurions. I plan on spreading the blueprints among the Dwemer factories and have them all produce as many of the Type 2s as possible. We’re going to need an army if we want to battle the Sixth house, I’m not going to rely on a single mythical Centurion.” I answered and retrieved a heavy machine from the first keg. I rotated it around in my hands till I found the Dwemeric inscription.
Type 2 main power unit. Expected lifetime: 5 years.
,,As for your other questions, those were Carrier Centurions. They’re the ones who do all the heavy lifting around here. Not all Centurions are built for battle after all. And they follow my orders because I can speak Dwemeric. That, and maybe me being Dumac has something to do with it. I bet that as the leader of the Dwemer, he could give orders to all Centurions.”

Zarador scratched his bald head.
,,That sounds like a logical assumption. Just one more question, what is a Type 2 and did you find out anything about the bandits?” He asked me. I grinned as I placed the power unit inside the Centurion’s chest and connected it to the actual skeleton that would move the machine.
,,Those are two questions but that’s ok. A Type 2 is just like your Centurion over here, only with the exact specifications of the blueprint as opposed to someone’s guess. It is a humanoid warrior and the Dwemer’s attempt at versatility. So unlike all the other combat-oriented Centurions, it doesn’t feature any integrated weapons. Nope, this one can and will wield any weapon you and I can hold in our hands. They’re probably the best thing we can get produced fast enough to make a difference in the upcoming battle. And the bandits? They worked for Orvas Dren.” The last words came out as a sigh. That man had allied himself against his own brother and on top of that, his allies were monsters that could have walked straight out of Oblivion.

I was convinced that as long as he lived, he would continue to cause trouble. What I had to do was to convince him otherwise. But how?
,,Orvas? That man is a disgrace for his people. Say, you can’t stomp on his house with Pelinal, can you?” Zarador wore a gleeful smile at his idea.
,,No, we first need to find Pelinal for that. And even then, Pelinal is useless without the key. Worst of all, I’ve put some Administrator Centurions on the job but they have yet to find any information regarding a key for big Centurions.”

I detached myself from the conversation and focussed fully on my repair job. It was a bit odd, considering that I could just wait a few hours and get myself a brand-new Centurion but I figured that I might as well spent my time for something useful. That, and Zarador’s Centurion had already shown the ability to understand Cyrodiilic. The solution lay in its brain which had been merged with a Soulgem. That would explain the machine’s rather eccentric behaviour. I decided to replace its brain with a standard one, even though Zarador wouldn’t appreciate losing control over his toy.
,,So there are no clues at all?” Zarador continued to press the subject.
,,None, now let me finish this.” I answered bluntly.

Fully repairing the Centurion took the rest of the day. Once it was fixed, I tried to activate the machine and carefully examined it for any flaws. There were none to be found. Satisfied, I had my belated diner. Zarador and I continued to discuss the whereabouts of the key. Zarador brought up an interesting theory, namely that the key might not be a key in the traditional sense. It could be something different, like a powersource. I remembered my vision in which Kagrenac complained about not having a useable powersource for Numidium. I ran to the library as fast as I could.

The library was a dimly lit room nearly as big as the entrance. Racks upon racks of scrolls, notes, books and other forms of recording filled it as far as the eye could see. Among them, dozens of the so-called Administrator Centurions moved about on their little wheels. Their body could extend to reach even the highest racks and the fingers of their delicate hands were coated in silk to prevent damage to the records. The most eye-catching feature were their heads, which contained at least a dozen eyes. I shuddered as I thought of the damage a single spark could do. An immeasurable amount of knowledge, all lost in the mistake of a single moment. I praised the Dwemer, who had thought about this as well and gave the administrators a closed system without any hot steam being shot out of their backs like the Spheres or the big Macewielders.

,,I want another search. Look for a power unit capable of powering a hypothetical Centurion of about two hundred metres in height.” I told the nearest Administrator that wasn’t busy. The Centurion rolled over to one of the racks and extended its body high above the ground. It withdrew a heavy book wrapped in black leather and flitted through the pages so fast that the moving paper was little more than a blur. After only a few seconds, it had moved through all the pages and carefully put the book back in the rack. It returned to me.

,,There is no information on a power unit that can meet those requirements. There are a total of 546 other potential sources of information on this subject. These sources will be examined immediately. The closest result is a power unit for a Centurion of about thirty metres in height. Any further requests?” It spoke with a mechanic voice. I shook my head. According to my visions, Pelinal was much bigger than thirty. A hundred metres was the bare minimum I was willing to consider.
,,Continue the search. I’ll be at the entrance to Arkngthand.”

I was about to leave the library when one of the other Administrators tried to gain my attention. I nodded for it to tell me what it had. I was hoping for information regarding the key’s location but I told myself not to get my hopes up. The Administrators had been searching the most obscure bits of information for hours with no results so far.
,,No information regarding the location of your key has been found. However, there is a known Centurion development facility located on a northern island. Your requested information might be found there.” It told me.

A Centurion development facility. This gave me hope. If there was any place that had information on oversized Centurions, it had to be there. But how to get there? Fortunately, Dumac’s memories came to my aid once more.
,,Prepare a map with the location of this facility. I also want to know the current location of the Cloudcleaver. You know where to find me.”

I walked out of the library and back to the entrance where Zarador was trying to start a conversation with the two Type 1s who had killed the bandits earlier. The two machines completely ignored the Altmer as I’d told them to. Having Zarador identified as a friend was one of the first things I did here.
,,I want twenty Type 2s, ten spheres, five Macewielders and two Wings to accompany us when we leave. Outfit the Type 2s with Halberds. I also want to take forty Spiders and ten Administrators. Replace the lost Centurions as soon as possible. Furthermore, I want to send a Wing Centurion to all known factories. Have it carry a copy of the Type 2 blueprints and deliver the order to start production of Type 2s till the force defending the factories has been at least tripled. Now get going.” The Two Centurions marched off as I sat down next to the perplexed Zarador.
,,Where are they going?” He asked me, scratching his bald head as usual.
,,To make a few arrangements.”




Edit: I forgot to explain something. In the update, Ro-El gives orders to what might seem to be the wrong Centurions. For example, he tells a carrier to go fetch a set of blueprints from the library. This is the job of an Administrator. So why did Ro-El do this? Surely he knows what the Carrier's job is. The answer is simple and it sounds like a good assumption. The Centurions can communicate with one another, even those that are not capable of Dwemeric speech. So the Carrier went to an Administrator which gave it a copy of the blueprints. I hope this cleared it up.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Jan 14 2007, 10:00 PM