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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Lord Zumars, I thought to myself as I stood up. The mysterious Lord behind the attack on the Kynareth shrine was behind the attack on this one. Why, I wondered as I searched the corpses, was he so anxious to get his hands on armour from one of the Orders? Finding nothing of value, I continued through the vaults until I came to a spiral staircase leading upwards. Following the stairs, I came to a roughly hewn doorway that led into a natural cavern. Beyond it I could make out a small bridge across a natural chasm and a passageway that led into another smaller chamber. Of much more concern were the two iron-clad figures patrolling the bridge.

The slighter figure was carrying a torch, and this made an excellent focus for my softly murmured spell. As before, I could see the faint wisps of greenish vapour rising from the torch as the figure patrolled up and down the bridge. It didn’t take too long for the virulent toxin I had unleashed to take effect: clutching at their throats, the two figures thrashed and convulsed before collapsing out of sight behind the wall that topped the sides of the bridge.

A bridge that led to nowhere, apparently. The small chamber at the far end was empty apart from a couple of heavy sacks ~ the only feature a heavily locked wooden door that, if memory served me correctly, led out into the Foyada Mamaea. I grinned as I examined the contents of the one sack: the soft glint of Imperial silverware told me that Zumars’ men weren’t above a little petty larceny. The other sack contained a shield: black as midnight and edged with worked silver in the form of a twisted rope, the heavy shield bore the device of the Order of the Circle. Hmmm, shield but no armour. I remembered the words of the first of these interlopers; he’d been looking for the armour too and had said something about a hidden chamber.

Since there was obviously nothing here, I made my way back into the vault and studied the place carefully. I was just about to return to the shrine and search there when I spotted something out of place: on one wall was an ornately embossed plaque, its decoration a pair of skulls. Similar plaques decorated the whole of the shrine and vault but this was the only one I’d seen with two skulls on the plaque. One of the skulls depressed when I pushed on it and, with a heavy grating noise, a superbly hidden door swung open to reveal a smaller chamber. There, arrayed on a stand, was the remaining armour of the Order of the Circle.

“Lassie,” Radd Hard-Heart boomed when I walked into the keep carrying a sack full of armour, “heard ye got Ancois back from some witch-woman out Molag Amur way? That was a canny bit o’ work from what I hear. I spoke tae General Darius up Gnisis-way, he speaks highly o’ you. Take this chit tae the quartermaster.”

The Moonmoth quartermaster was a wizened old Cyrodiil who took the chit from me and then gruffly requested my size. Digging about under the counter, he came back up with a pair of steel pauldrons and a pair of boots. I felt odd wearing the boots, odder still with the shoulder-guards in place. I winced as my footsteps echoes in the halls as I made my way back to where Radd stood ~ sneaking up on anything in these boots would be damn’ near impossible.

“Well Champion,” he said, “I’ve got another wee rescue mission for ye. A traveller by the name o’ Dandsa has been captured by bandits near Gnaar Mok. Intelligence says they’re holed up in a cave-system called Abernanit.”

“Wait…” I said, “What’s this ‘Champion’ bit?”

“Did ye no know lassie,” Radd Hard-Heart said, grinning. “I’m givin’ ye a promotion. Nay, no less than ye deserve,” he said when I started to protest. “Besides, d’ye ken how much paperwork is involved in revoking a field promotion?”

I shrugged, if the Imperial Legion was going to persist in promoting me, who was I to argue? Besides, elevated rank has its privileges: greater access to important briefings and the like. Leaving the Fort, I made a brief detour to Dura gra-Bol's house and dropped off the Arkay armour I’d taken from the shrine before heading out of town and along the banks of the Odai to the plateau. The Hlaalu manor stood deserted, and I cut through the courtyard and through the eastern gate into the Bitter Coast region.

It was early afternoon by the time I arrived in Hla Oad, but not too late to arrange for a fishing vessel to run me up to Gnaar Mok. Unfortunately, it was quite late when I arrived in the small village of Gnaar Mok and there was no room at the inn ~ no Inn either, for that matter. With a good deal of grumbling about parsimonious Redorans, I set up my tent just a little way outside the village and settled down for the night.