Edward an Imperial's Story, Coward, bounder, thief, murderer...and hero? Options

[haute ecole rider]

he he he!

And my character hasn't even met the sirens! I can't wait to see what happens when Edward waltzes into that little farmhouse!

Oh, and that list of retribution was great! I laughed so hard at it Poor Mom's bird! Poor cat!

[mALX]

As he clomped -- rather, sloshed -- into the room, staring daggers at everyone who dared to cross his path, a young man approached him. "Hello there!" he greeted. "My name is Velwyn Benirus, and you look like someone who could use a place of your own here in town. And it just so happens that I'm selling a beautiful manor house, full of character, because I'm moving out of town; and, since I don't have time to negotiate, as my business is so pressing, I'm going to let it go for the ridiculously low price..."

Edward turned malevolent eyes in his direction, and snarled, "Piss off!" The other man blinked at Edward's fury, and quickly absented himself.

SPEW !!! BWAAAHAAA!!!!!! KA...KA OW! My stomach ... SPEW !!! ROFL !!! BWAAAHAAA!!! Piss off !!! SPEW !!!!!

SQUAWK-AWK-AWK !!!!

"'If you think you could find a better deal, be my guest'," Edward repeated in a mocking tone, flinging the gold at the publican.

Stooping to pick it up, Wilbur replied meekly, "Thank you very much, sir. Here's the key to your room." This, in turn, he flung at Edward.

Wilbur .... [choke...choke...gasp !! ] BWAAAHAAA!!!!! OW!!! My stomach ... oooga ... BWAAHAAA !!!!

** mALX's stomach burst from laughing so hard...she croaked.

*** Private ***
* * * TOP SECRET * * *
* Do NOT read *
* If found, return to Edward *
* Do NOT read *
* * * TOP SECRET * * *
*** Private ***

Retribution List

GAAAAAH !!!! THE LIST !!!!!! WOOOOOOOOT !!!!

** mALX miraculously revived !!!

added the following at the bottom of the soggy page:

**DO NOT READ -- PRIVATE DOCUMENT**

GAAAAAH !!!! SPEW !!!! ROFL !!!

Because I'm firing you, you worthless, good-for-nothing, half-witted, lame-brained, jealous bag of...of...of minotaur turds!"

His valet blinked at him, too shocked to say anything. Edward turned on his heel, and stormed out of the manor house.

URK !!! Why don't I remember Edward firing the Valet? BWAAAHAAA!!! Oh wait, is this where the valet has to come rescue him in prison? GAAAAH !!! Now I have to go over to the BGSF and read the original .... and I don't have time !!! BWAAA...snork...snork ...

[Rachel the Breton]

@haute ecole rider: haha, glad you enjoyed it! As far as Edward and the sirens, "waltzes" might be too kind a way to describe his entrance. Thanks for commenting!
@mALX: haha, have you been playing Final Fantasy VII lately? LOL. (My sister loves that series, and I love how often Sephiroth undies...but I digress ). Glad you enjoyed the previous chapters -- that actually was in the first one, so you don't need to dig that up if you don't want, lol. Most of these recent changes have been with making it progress naturally from the new ones. Thanks for posting!!


Birds singing and twittering all day,
Life goes along its merry way.
Fools causing havoc where ever they stray
Life goes along its merry way.
-- The Song of Edward, verse 1

Chapter Ninety-Three

Edward spent the remainder of the afternoon in a very mature manner: getting utterly sloshed at his inn, the Count's Arms, and plotting revenge on his former valet. The business of revenge did not meet with terrible success, as Edward feared that his valet knew too much about his tactics for any attack to work; but the business of getting sloshed went off without a hitch.

When, at last, evening rolled around, a very drunk Edward stumbled out of the inn. Despite a handful of unfortunate run-ins with a few lamposts, a tree, and the town gate, Edward was able to make it outside of Anvil in one piece, and not seriously injured.

He'd found out earlier how to get to Gweden farm, and now he stumbled along the lane in that general direction. The night air was slightly chilly, but it seemed invigorating to him. The urge to sing suddenly came over him, and he found himself wailing boisterously and adding an occasional dance step to his walk, which generally resulted in a near tumble and last minute save barely preventing his face from coming into contact with the road. Yet he kept with it, tripping and screaming all the way down the road.

Finally, he managed to drag himself up a hillside and up to a little farmhouse thereon. Knocking loudly, he sang out boisterously, "I'm here, my beauty! Your Edward has come!"

The door opened, and he stumbled inside. His foot caught on a rug and sent him forward headlong, past the girl he'd met in the tavern and into the floor. He laughed at his own clumsiness, demanding in slurred tones, "Who put the rug there, eh, my beauty?"

The girl rolled her eyes, and said under her breath -- but loud enough for Edward to hear -- "Oh gods, this job gets harder every day..."

Edward picked himself up to a sitting position and nodded drunkenly, although whether he was agreeing or doing a chicken impersonation was less clear than he might have liked. "Farm work can be hell," he said. "And a delicate girl of a flower like you, all by yourself?"

She smiled maliciously at these words. "Not quite alone," she replied.

"Ohhh, that's right!" Edward shouted. The girl grimaced at his tone. "You've got a friend!"

"Yes," she answered with a half smile. "Two of them in fact."

"Well, you picked the right man, then!" Edward declared, laughing very giddily. He tried to push himself onto his feet, but collapsed to the floor again.

"We sure did," the girl answered with a smirk. "Faustina! Tsarrina!" All at once, two other women, one an Imperial and the other a Khajiit, appeared.

Edward smiled stupidly but had a hard time forming a response. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he felt very light-headed.

The dark haired Imperial glanced at Edward, and then turned to the woman who had admitted him. "Signy, he's totally sloshed!"

The lighter haired woman, Signy, shrugged. "Yeah, but who cares?"

"How are we gonna get him the hell out of here when we're done?"

"Oh," Signy responded, seeming crestfallen. "Good point."

Edward blinked, his attention slowing with every passing moment. By now, he had no idea what they were talking about, and was concentrating on a strange phenomenon that he'd just noticed. "Pretty circles," he said. "Where'd they come from?"

The three women stared at him, but he was too busy looking out for the peculiar swirls of light that kept appearing, and vanishing just as he turned to them.

"See?" the dark haired woman asked. "He's totally out of it."

It was then that the light-headedness transitioned into full-blown unconsciousness, and Edward slumped to the floor.

[Rachel the Breton]

His friends go about their daily business,
They cringe and scurry away,
Ducking and dodging he who is witless
As he goes about his day.
-- The Song of Edward, verse Two

Chapter Ninety-Four

Edward stirred groggily. He was only vaguely aware of a pounding headache, and a strong draft. He blinked, but shut his eyes quickly. "Ye gods!" he thought, "My head! What happened?" His mind presented no answer immediately. "Did I get in a fight?" he wondered. "Have to rush to the rescue of some beautiful damsel in distress or..." He paused, mid-thought, suddenly remembering. "No, I got sloshed." Then more memories assailed his mind, and he asked aloud, "And, speaking of damsels, where is that girl?"

Simply moving his jaws flooded his senses with pain. "Good gods!" he thought. "I didn't drink that much, did I?" After a few moments of contemplation, he acknowledged, "I guess I did...but still...this is unbearable!" It seemed like every tiny sound, the quiet chirping of a beetle, the creaking of his mattress as he shuddered in pain, the creeping feet of an insect scurrying across the floor -- they all stood out like thunder to his sensitive ears.

Then, all of a sudden, a wave of agony swept him as somewhere overhead a tremendous crashing of wood sounded. At the same time, the noise startled him so much that he jumped and opened his eyes. Light washed over him like a tide of bitter agony, and he crashed downwards whimpering in pain. But the noise upstairs did not subside.

"Anvil Guard! You're under arrest!" someone shouted. The words were lost on Edward, but the unbearably loud tone was certainly not. He wrapped his arms around his head and just groaned. The voice upstairs, accompanied by a clashing of weapons and armor, continued, "Put down your weapons!"

More feet continued to thump overhead, and a high voice, that of a woman, called out, "It's no use, girls. They've got us surrounded...give up so they don't kill you!" In response, a terrible clash of weapons dropping on wood, feet stamping, and shrill curses sounded, all together in a grand cacophony of noise.

By this point, Edward was attempting to smother himself with his pillow. He continued with this endeavor as a pair of heavily armored feet stomped their way down the stairs, jingled the handle to the room that Edward was in, and then, as it didn't respond, kicked it open.

"And what have we here, eh?" a booming voice asked. "Well, my lads, looks like we've caught the ringleader!"

Edward remained in his bed, writhing in agony and not even caring what they were talking about -- just that someone was talking.

"Really?" a different, but equally, terribly loud voice asked.

"Yes indeed," the first responded. "I told you this gang had to have a ringleader!"

Then the stomping of boots resumed, tramping closer and closer to Edward. The Imperial was groaning in pain, wondering why he hadn't seen anyone else in the room in the brief glances he'd had. "It doesn't matter," he thought, "as long as they just get him and get out!"

"Alright my pretty," the loud voice sounded mockingly, so close to Edward that he opened his eyes for a third time. Along with a fresh wave of pain, a wave of surprise swept Edward. There were two guards standing around his bed, on either side of him.

"What's going on?" he asked, his bewilderment getting the better of his pain.

"You're under arrest, that's what!" one guard seemed to bellow. Edward stared at him, stunned. "You didn't think you'd get away with this, did you? Being a pseudo-pimp, a gang leader, here in Anvil? I don't think so!" This said, both men seized him with gauntlet clad hands.

It was then that Edward understood the source of the draft he'd noticed earlier: he had, somehow, been stripped down to his loincloth. What was more, the cold gauntlets made his skin crawl in a strange, ticklish way.

The guards hoisted him to his feet, and prodding him forward with a push, said, "Alright, get moving."

Edward senses were swimming with all the movement, but the cold metal on his bare back was the most prevalent sensation. "Don't do that!" he said, laughing. "I'm ticklish!"

"Move!" the officers prodded again.

Edward, still laughing, pushed back, saying, "Go away, I haven't done anything!" He realized that laughing did nothing for his case, but he couldn't help it...he really was ridiculously ticklish.

[Rachel the Breton]

Thinking that he is a hero,
Whilst he annoys everyone he knows;
Thinking everyone else is a zero
While his own ineptitude shows.
-- The Song of Edward, Verse Three
Chapter Ninety-Five

Anvil was abuzz with the latest news. Most everyone had seen the three sirens taken to the castle in cuffs, but the real talk of the town was the nearly naked man who had been dragged through the streets toward the dungeon, giggling hysterically.

"He was wearing just a loin cloth, and crying and laughing, all at the same time!" one person said.

"And he had the stupidest laugh," another added.

"Oh yes! Such a ridiculous, high pitched, squealing giggle of a laugh!"

"I thought he was crying," one voice commented. "I saw tears running down his face."

"Yes, and he kept trying to shield his eyes from the sun."

"No, he was just in a stupor of laughter."

"Are you sure? He looked hung over to me."

"No, and anyway, the guard said he was the mastermind behind the gang, sending them out to pick up guys like a pimp, but then him and the women would rob them when they arrived."

A solitary figure listened to this gossip from a distance, looking in turns surprised, worried, and then deeply thoughtful. At last he left the crowd of gossips, and headed for his home. He frowned as he walked. "Could it be Edward?" he wondered aloud. "No, not even he would be stupid enough to get himself in a fix like that..." Then the frown reappeared. "Alright, but how could the guards think that he was the mastermind of anything nefarious, much less a successful gang?!"

Certainly, it was a conundrum for our friend, who was, of course, none other than Edward's trusty valet. On the one hand, it seemed like the sort of fix that Edward would get himself into; and on the other, it seemed impossible that the guards would be foolish enough to assume he was a criminal mastermind -- a mastermind of any sort, for that matter. The valet entered his new home, sitting down to stare into the fire for a few minutes and think.

Meanwhile, Edward had been dragged, shrieking with both laughter at being ticklish and protestations of his innocence, all at the same time, to the castle, and promptly thrown into a dungeon. All at once, his laughter had subsided, and his headache and fears been allowed to dominate his mind. "Oh gods," he thought, shivering as the cold, musty dungeon air assailed his body, and his terror assailed his mind. "What am I going to do? Those damn guards didn't even give me any clothes!" He glanced about the cell, his arms pressed close against him to keep warm. He hated just standing barefooted on the floor, afraid to even think what his bare skin might be in contact with; and he absolutely refused to consider sitting or lying down on the dirty old bedroll on the cell floor. For the moment, the only thing he could think of to do was stand there hunched forward, his arms crossed and pressed tight against his chest, alternating standing on first one foot and then the next, his teeth chattering.

"Oh Oblivion," he thought, "This is just ridiculous...how do I get myself into fixes like these? And to think that honoured user of a valet was right...they were setting me up." Shivering, standing on one foot, and miserable, Edward felt an overwhelming urge to cry come over him. "They're probably going to string me up!" he whimpered. "And I'll never be able to do all the things I wanted to do...get rich, buy a nice, comfortable castle, marry a beautiful girl, keep a few hot mistresses on the side, raise a few kids..." He stopped to frown. He'd always hated kids...why in heaven's name did they come to mind now? "Well, forget the kids...I'll raise horses...lots of beautiful, sleek horses...be able to afford to do some real gambling...exploit the peasant tenants on my land..." His eyes were glistening now as images of the fun he might have had filled his mind. "And, when I died, I could have left my fortune to my children, my own, dear beloved horses, so that I could be assured that they'd live happily after I was gone..." His eyes cleared, and he frowned again. "Scratch that, I would have just spent it all while I was alive, living it up to the max...oh, what a great man I might have been! I might have been a somebody -- and, instead, I'm going to die here, like a poor hunted animal, caged and trapped, naked and shivering, frightened and abused, terrorized and mishandled, ill-used and..."

At that moment, he heard the outer door grate open, and his thoughts were interrupted. He started shaking violently, not from cold, but rather fear. They were coming for him...this was it...his final moments on earth! "And what disgusting, undignified moments they are," he thought tearfully. "Alone in a cold dungeon, no clothes, about to be strung up for a crime I didn't even commit! Of all the ways to go...damn guards couldn't even string me up for something I've done, something great and glorious and truly evil and diabolical...instead, they have to kill me for something I didn't do!"

The tramping of feet recalled him to the present, and he glanced toward the door. Two Anvil guards were visible, and a third man behind them. “Now you sure this scum is innocent?” a gruff voice – that of the first guard – demanded.

“Quite sure,” answered a familiar voice.

Edward couldn't make out the speaker in the dimness, but he knew at once who it was. His valet had come for him! “Thank the gods!” he thought.

“You'll vouch for him?” the second guard asked. They had stopped outside his cell, and Edward could see all three men clearly. “You're sure that this bilge rat is a victim?”

“Quite sure,” the valet repeated.

The first guard sighed. “I don't know...” he thought aloud.

“Look at 'em, Francis...he's pathetic...a sniveling, shivering, whimpering rat...he couldn't head up anything, much less a criminal operation!” the second guard countered.

“Hmm...” Francis mused, his grizzled face twisting in concentration. “You're probably right...and I suppose he'd be the sort that was stupid enough to fall for their tricks.”

“Exactly.”

“And,” the valet interjected – and none too soon, as Edward was about to erupt in indignant protestations, “he is a material witness.”

Francis grimaced in thought, offering up a second thoughtful, “Hmm...”

“I suppose that's true,” the other man agreed.

“Alright then,” Francis declared, “I guess we'll drop the charges. But we'll need his testimony to press charges against them.”

Edward could hardly believe his ears. They were going to set him free! Moments earlier, he had been ready for death...and now he was about to be set free! His first instinct was to shout in sheer joy, but the reality that he was still standing practically naked in a dirty cell restrained him. “Ummm...can I have some clothes?” he asked instead.

[Rachel the Breton]

Heroes risk their own necks -
And no thanks do they get -
To save him from his own wrecks.
For, surely, he is a git.
-- The Song of Edward, Verse Four

Chapter Ninety-Six

His request for clothes having been granted, Edward was now seated in an office giving his testimony to a guard. That is, he was supposed to be giving his testimony to the guard. As it was, he had decided upon release that he was in no way prepared to cooperate with the authorities after his miserable treatment, and the fact that his property had been confiscated as material evidence. Even when they had told him that he was not leaving the castle until he did so, he was unmoved. So, he was currently seated across from an officer of the law, his nose tilted at an angle nearer perpendicular to the floor than not.

“Permit me to reiterate,” he told the guard, quite condescendingly, “for I've not the slightest compunction in asserting yet again that I have nothing further to declare. This requires no greater elucidation on my part, only cooperation on yours. Release me precipitously, and return my falsely appropriated goods expeditiously.”

The guard stared at him. “What?” he asked finally.

Edward sighed an extremely haughty sigh. “My obtuse compatriot,” he spoke, “my prolonged and unprovoked imprisonment in this hellish enclosure has convinced me of the necessity of removing myself from the abominable premises without further delay, lest I am unwittingly subjected to repeated abuses at the hands of the nefarious reprobates who reside in this less than charming castle.”

The other man just stared at him.

By this time, Edward had had enough. His thin patience had worn away, and even the satisfaction of befuddling this guard proved insufficient at the moment. “Let me go!” he shouted. “Just let me go, you bloody idiot!” This said, he added with a sniff, “Pardon me, that I should use words of such a minor caliber as those that have so bypassed your comprehension. I should have known your cerebral capacity would be insufficient to accommodate an intelligence as inane as mine.”

The guard stared at him, an eyebrow raised. “Inane?”

Edward's cheeks flushed. “Innate!” he snapped. “I said innate...you just...misheard.”

“Oh...I see...well, forgive me sir. However, as you know, I have orders keep you here until you give me your statement.” Edward was clearly about to enter into another tirade, and the guard just as clearly wanted to save himself the pain of wading through vocabulary that was beyond his grasp. “And, there is a reward, as you know for information on these women. So, you would qualify for the reward if you give us your statement.”

This revelation caused Edward to pause. He had been intent on ignoring any and all demands for information...but how could he turn down a reward, after all? “Well,” he said hesitantly, “I suppose I might, for the good of the empire, and all that junk. But on one condition: that I get all of my property back!”

“Fine, fine,” the guard agreed hastily. It was apparent that this man would be willing to do much if it meant getting Edward out of his office.

“Including the amulet,” Edward emphasized.

The other man stared at him quizzically. “Amulet? What amulet?”

Edward glared at him. “You know damned well what amulet, you honoured user!” he practically roared. “My amulet, the one those women took from me!”

Blinking at his fury, the guard seemed genuinely perplexed. “Sir, we didn't recover any amulets though.”

Edward stared in silent astonishment, and then groaned. He wanted to disbelieve this man, but he couldn't. His perplexity, his expression, even his simple, artless air of stupidity, spoke of truthfulness. And that meant only one thing...his amulet was gone, where he knew not, but gone all the same.

[haute ecole rider]

Are we done yet?

I loved this latest installment of Edward's adventures! The drunken dance stroll traipsing up to Gweden Farm, Edward's pratfalls and the befuddlement of the three women, their arrest and Edward's Deadland-sized hangover, his ticklish body . . .

Shall I go on?

This sums up Edward so concisely:

Thinking that he is a hero,
Whilst he annoys everyone he knows;
Thinking everyone else is a zero
While his own ineptitude shows.
-- The Song of Edward, Verse Three

The guard's incomprehension of Edward's elevated vocabulary was priceless!

[mALX]

The Amulet of Kings ... lost at ... a cat house !!!! SPEW !!!! ROFL !!!! Edward ... can't get lucky even in ... BWAAAHAAA - in like 300 chapters the closest he's come is when a necromancer thought he looked dead - SPEW !!!! ROFL !!!!! AWESOME WRITE !!!!!

[Rachel the Breton]

haute ecole rider and mALX: thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed these ones! As for Edward's hangover, he spent pretty much the entire day drowning his sorrows and self pity...he must have been a sight indeed for the sirens, lol. And, of course, he would take his "retirement" on his *ahem* date, lol.

Gang of Sirens Apprehended!
Today our news comes all the way from the distant port of Anvil , where our correspondent informs us that a notorious gang of sirens was apprehended. While there had been some misunderstanding regarding a certain vagabond male who was initially taken to be the orchestrator of the gang, our correspondent reveals that he was in fact a victim of the women. The guard with whom our correspondent spoke revealed this man’s name to be either Edgar or Edmund, but could not remember which.
-- Black Horse Courier, Special News Bulletin

Chapter Ninety-Seven

Having been utterly defeated by the enormity of such terrible news, Edward had willingly cooperated with the guard. After giving his testimony, the other man – keeping his end of the bargain – had retrieved Edward's goods. All of them, that is, except for the amulet. That was, as he'd said, not there.

Edward, swamped in despair, had trudged out of the castle, to find his loyal retainer waiting for him in the courtyard. "Sir!" he greeted. "I'm glad to see you out. I was afraid the interrogation had turned...unpleasant."

Edward stared at him. "What?"

"Well, you were gone for so long," the other man explained.

Edward only grunted a sad, miserable grunt in response.

"Sir? Is everything alright?" the valet asked.

"Alright?" Edward repeated, marveling over the use of the word. "My world has been destroyed, and you ask if everything is alright?"

The other man cleared his throat tactfully. "Well, sir, I wouldn't say that...I mean, those women fooled a good number of citizens. From what I hear, most of the men in town. I wouldn't feel too humiliated, if I were you."

Edward glared at him. "Well thank you for reminding me of that," he snapped. "I hadn't even been thinking of how I was utterly humiliated, made to look a fool before the world. But you would remind me of that, of course."

"Well, sir, I thought..." the valet began, clearly confused. "If you weren't talking about that, then what?"

"My retirement!" the Imperial bemoaned. "My retirement...those women, they stole it!"

His companion stared at him, clearly amazed. His expression seemed to say, "I knew you were capable of all sorts of stupidity, but I never imagined you'd be dumb enough to bring your retirement with you when visiting a remote cabin to see women you had only just met! Especially not after the purse incident in the Imperial City..." Aloud, however, he only said, "You mean, sir...that you took your retirement money with you?"

Edward, having caught the fleeting expression of amazement, stared icily at him. "It wasn't money. It was..." Then he broke off, remembering just in time that he'd lied to his valet about his encounter with the Emperor. As far as the valet knew, he'd never had the amulet. "Well, you see," he said, "I can't tell you about it...it was something that...well, that the Emperor entrusted to me."

The valet's eyes opened wide. "The Amulet of Kings!" he gasped. "I knew you had it!"

Edward stared at him in annoyance. "No, not that one. Another amulet. My retirement." He wanted to add, "The honoured user tricked me out of taking the Amulet of Kings," but decided against it. It wouldn't aid his claim that he was the Emperor's son, after all, to go around insulting his "father".

His companion shook his head. "This isn't the time to lie to me, sir. I knew you had it. I understand that you couldn't trust your secret to me, but we've got a serious crisis on our hands. You have to trust me now!"

Meeting these words with a blank stare, Edward declared, "I have no idea what you're talking about." This was, in fact, absolutely true.

"Sir, I'm serious. We need to retrieve that amulet! The fate of the entire empire rests on it!"

"I agree that we need to retrieve it," Edward answered, his anger and apathy fading a bit, "but I'm telling you, it's not the Amulet of Kings. It's just my retirement."

His valet sighed. "Sir, I admit, I had my doubts about you...but if you had really just been planning to pawn it off, you'd have let your greed get the better of you by now. So, I can only come to the conclusion that you've been waiting for the right moment to deliver the amulet to safety. Where is it supposed to go? Who are you supposed to bring it to?"

Edward stared at him blankly. What was his mad servant ranting about now? What part of the truth did the man not comprehend?

"Friar Jauffre!" the valet exclaimed excitedly. "He was the king's secret confidante. You have to take it there, don't you?"

Edward blinked in astonishment. That's what that guard, the bodyguard who'd been escorting the Emperor the day he died, had said, wasn't it?

His change of expression had clearly been enough for his valet, who exclaimed, "Aha! I knew it! Now, sir, come -- you must trust me! If the Emperor trusted you, you must be the right man for the job. But, since the amulet is lost, let me help you retrieve it. As you know, my skills in that department -- shall we say, retrieval of property -- are...well, tuned to a finer extent than yours. So, let me put them to use for you, and the empire."

Edward stared daggers at the other man, and was about to launch into a tirade about the faulty comparison of their thieving skills, when he stopped short. Though he would never admit, he knew beyond a shadow of doubt that his valet's abilities as a thief were by far better than his; and here he was, offering him assistance in retrieving the amulet. "Alright," he thought, "since he's determined to believe that I have that Amulet of Kings or whatever, I might as well let him do the dirty work of retrieving my retirement source." Aloud, however, he replied, "Well, perhaps I might trust you this once...for the good of the empire and all that."

The valet positively beamed. "Thank you sir! Have no fear, you will not regret your faith in me!" Edward resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. "Now, let's see...you say those women took it from you?"

"Well, they must have," Edward shrugged. "They took everything else. And how else could it have disappeared?"

The other man pursed his lips in thought. "They might have taken it, sir, but I doubt they knew its significance." Edward frowned at him, so he hastened to explain. "Riffraff of their breeding could never estimate the true import of such a jewel. They would just think it was some expensive ruby to be pawned off, or something of that ilk." Edward's frown deepened, but the other man was too lost in his own train of thought to take note. "So, they probably put it with their other valuables. Which means..." Here his expression brightened, and his eyes positively gleamed. "One of the guards took it!"

Edward stared at him. How his servant had drawn that conclusion was beyond him. In fact, it seemed downright silly. "What? Why?"

"Because they retrieved all the stolen property in their bust...which means one of the soldiers must have seen it during the raid, recognized that it was very valuable, and so pocketed it when no one was looking."

Edward frowned. "I suppose it might have happened that way."

"I'm sure it did," the other man continued excitedly. "In fact, I got a glimpse of the soldiers who came back from the raid...let me do a little reconnaissance, sir. I'll have your amulet back in a jiffy."

Edward's frown deepened. "And what do I do while you're off reconnoitering?"

"Well, sir, you can make yourself comfortable at Benirus Manor -- my new home -- and wait for me."

This post has been edited by Rachel the Breton: Feb 24 2011, 04:58 PM

[Rachel the Breton]

‘Ineptitude’ should be his middle name,
And for his first ‘shame’.
‘Fool’ should be his family name,
For they must be the same.
-- The Song of Edward, Verse Five

Chapter Ninety-Eight

Edward sighed, settling into the sheets of his warm bed. His valet still hadn't returned, and he was tired and greatly annoyed -- so he had no intention whatever of waiting up for the man. Despite the rather rundown appearance of the house, it seemed warm and pest-free, so he figured he'd be safe enough sleeping there; plus, his servant's cursory repairs and organization had done much to improve the charm of the residence since his first visit, so his mind was easy about settling in for repose.

Sleep came quickly, and Edward soon embarked upon one of his favorite dreams -- where, traipsing merrily through the forest, he happens upon a chest full of priceless gold and gems. He had just reached the point in his dream where, much to his delight, he discovers the chest's peculiar property -- whatever is taken out of it is magically replenished in like kind -- when a strange noise interrupted the serenity of his fanciful, sleep-induced reverie. It was low, sullen, ghoulish and altogether unpleasant.

In his dream, Edward frowned. This had never happened before, and he'd had this same dream many times. "Go away," he told whatever it was as he glanced about the forest. "It's mine!" He shivered as the golden sunlight seemed to vanish, and a cold, dark fear settled upon the forest. The green grass and foliage was now a strange grayish black, and the peaceful woodland critters had morphed into terrible shadows and ghoulish apparitions. "No!" Edward called, throwing himself onto the treasure chest. "It's not supposed to be like this! Go away, all of you!" At that moment, a cold hand seized him, sending a spike of icy pain through his body.

Jerking to consciousness with a scream, Edward opened his eyes. To his horror, he found that the ghoulish noises, the terrible pain, and the fearful apparitions were all very much real; the only part of his dream that was not was the lovely, self-replenishing treasure chest. He was at that very moment surrounded on all sides by a small host of glowing, growling ethereal bodies, and he didn't even have unlimited wealth to show for it.

The unfairness of his predicament hit him hard, and he cursed aloud. He'd be willing to face a few ghosts for unlimited treasure, but this...this was just unacceptable. "Go away!" he shouted at the menacing figures, his voice sounding high and whiny to his ears.

Something like a low, rumbling laugh issued forth from the floating specters, and they continued to advance. Edward yelped in fear, and for the first time the peril of his situation weighed more heavily on his mind than the injustice of it. Scrambling as fast as his legs could carry him, he leaped out of bed and toward the door. The ghouls, not having to sidestep the bed as he had to do, floated in front of him to block the door. Edward shrieked again.

By now Edward's screeching had hit a frenzied pitch. He was trapped in a room, unarmed, with a group of terrible, ghostly creatures who clearly meant him harm. "I'm gonna die!" he shrieked. "Oh gods, oh oblivion, I'm gonna die!" There was no escape for him, he could see. There were ghosts to the sides of him, ghosts in front of him, and nothing whatever with which to defend himself -- not that he even had an inkling of how to fight these ghouls anyway. "I'm gonna die," he whined a second time.

The apparitions laughed their grotesque laugh and advanced in response. At the same time, Edward heard a familiar voice. "Hang on, sir!" it called.

Of all the times that he'd been glad to hear from his valet, this time he was gladdest. "I'm in here, in the bedroom! Hurry!" he screamed, even as a ghost lurched forward at him, its ethereal arm sweeping toward his head. Edward ducked beneath the ghoul's arm, painfully aware of every second that it took the other man to race up the stairs to his rescue.

The ghosts apparently paid no mind to the advancing valet, for they continued their onslaught. Edward, ducking, dodging, and screaming all the while, was only just able to avoid being pummeled to death by time his rescuer at last appeared. The other man's brown hair seem to stand on end as he burst into the room and beheld the spectral beings, but otherwise he took the random appearance of ghosts in his home in stride. Instantly seizing hold of the silver dagger at his belt, he lunged forward at the nearest ghost.

Edward heard a hellish groan, and then another as the valet struck again; with the second attack, the specter seemed to disintegrate into a slow falling rain of ethereal dust, that collected into a pool on the floor. Neither man spent very long analyzing the creature's demise, however, as Edward was scrambling for the opening the ghost's death had made, and his valet was leaping forward to do battle with the remaining ghouls.

Not bothering to glance behind him, Edward bolted through the open door, nearly toppling his valet in the process, and down the stairs. Bursting through the closed parlor door, still shrieking as he went, his only thought was to exit the premises as quickly as possible. He didn't notice, therefore, the disarrayed furniture until it was too late; and, before he knew what had happened, he found his foot catching on a tipped cabinet, and himself flying through the air.

This post has been edited by Rachel the Breton: Feb 24 2011, 05:08 PM

[Rachel the Breton]

Here Lies a Peasant. ‘Nuff said.
-- Graveyard Memorial in the Serf’s Graveyard of Lord Udicio’s Manor

Chapter Ninety-Nine

Edward woke with a groan. His head was throbbing, again, and he was having a bit of difficulty remembering what had happened last. He wondered if he could be drunk again. Surely not...surely he learned his lesson from the day before?

"Sir?" a concerned voice asked.

Suddenly, his recollections flooded over him, and he bolted upright, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Sir, it's alright! They're dead!" his valet tried to yell over him.

But Edward continued his shrieking, thrashing his arms about wildly in a vain attempt to get up and escape. He was, however, too paralyzed by fright to do more than flail about, screaming.

"Sir!" the valet persisted, grabbing hold of Edward to shake him. "Sir, they're dead!"

These words broke through, and Edward paused. "Dead? You killed them?"

"Yes sir." Then the valet frowned. "But...were you just going to run away and let me fight them by myself?"

Edward blinked. Of course he'd been going to do that. Why was this crazy man even asking him that?

"Or were you coming down here to get your weapons?"

Edward blinked again. Clearly, if one was to judge by the other's tone, the idea that he'd been thinking of -- nay, in the process of -- abandoning him offended the valet’s peculiar sensibilities. While it was the truth, and a darned sensible one too, it might, Edward reasoned, be wiser to lie. After all, if the valet wasn't smart enough to figure it out for himself, there was no sense in him knowing that Edward would abandon him in a heartbeat when danger presented itself, was there? "Of course," he replied. "I was -- as you saw -- completely unarmed."

The valet nodded. "I figured as much," he said, his tone expressing a sense of relief. "That's why you didn't just take care of them yourself."

"Umm...exactly," Edward lied. If his retainer wanted to believe that he was willing to jump into the fray with any ghastly apparition at a moment's notice, or return to it to help a friend, who was he to convince him otherwise?

The matter apparently settled to his satisfaction, the valet nodded and said, "Well sir, the bad news is this: I think my house is haunted."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Oh, you don't say?"

"I do...which explains why Velwyn Benirus was in such a hurry to get out of town after I bought it," the other man mused. Then, brushing his reflections aside, he continued, "However, I'm sure I can track him down in the Imperial City and talk to him about it. But, enough about that...time for the good news: I found your amulet. Well, the Emperor's amulet."

"You did?" Edward asked, his eyes wide with joy. He'd all but given up on his retirement plan, and suddenly it seemed as if his sense of desolation may have been premature. "You're sure it's the same amulet? Where did you find it?"

The other man nodded, grinning broadly. "I followed my little hunch, and asked around a bit," he replied. "Sure enough, one of the fellows who participated in the raid -- Maridus -- had a bit of a reputation for taking advantage of his position, sometimes skimming things recovered in busts and all that." Here, he shrugged self-deprecatingly. "The rest was easy...just a matter of trailing him, breaking into his residence when he slept, and lifting the amulet."

Edward felt his jaws clenching. "He's doing it again," he thought. "That pretending-to-be-humble bragging thing..." Speaking aloud, however, he was all good cheer. This was his meal-ticket, after all, and he wanted it back. "Fantastic! I knew I could count on you, my friend!"

The valet smiled what seemed to Edward -- though he was annoyed to admit it -- a genuine smile. "Thank you sir, but I was only doing my part for the empire."

"Yes, well, why don't you hand it to me?"

The valet hesitated. "I don't know about that, sir."

Edward's expression froze. "What?"

"Well," the valet explained, "once Maridus realizes that it's gone missing, he's naturally going to suspect you -- since it was your amulet. Well, he thought it was. So he's going to try to find us -- you."

"Then we can get out of here, right away," Edward argued. "Just hand it over."

Still, the other man shook his head. "Don't you see, sir? He'll never suspect me. He doesn't know who I am. I think it would be much safer if I held on to it, at least until we got to Weynon Priory."

Edward blinked in frustration. "You mean...you hold onto it?"

The valet nodded. "Right...just until we get to the priory, anyway, where we'll know it's safe."

Edward's jaw tightened. "But...it's mine!"

"It's the empire's, sir!" his valet countered in astonishment.

"Curse him!" Edward thought. "He's convinced this is the Amulet of Kings, isn't he? And he's going to be all patriotic and heroic and whatever about seeing that it gets delivered to that stupid monk." Sighing in frustration, Edward realized that he was going to have to at least play along. "Yes, yes," he said, "I know that. I meant that it was my...task! My task."

"Your task, sir?" the valet asked, and, again, his expression conveyed relief.

"Yes," Edward lied. "Personally, from the Emperor in fact!" The other man's eyes seemed to glisten with admiration. "So, you see, you have to give it to me."

Here, the valet hesitated again. "Well, sir, I'll be the perfect courier for you, to make sure that your task goes off without a hitch."

This persistence was too much for Edward. Was it possible that his valet, even if he would not admit it to himself, harbored some faint inkling of Edward's real intent? "It's not the bloody Amulet of Kings!" he snapped. "It's just a stupid jewel that I...got from him for safekeeping."

The valet sighed and shook his head. "Sir, how many times must I tell you that you don't have to lie to me?"

[Rachel the Breton]

The hands of fate could not slow,
And so the witless messenger continued.
But little did the fool know
The import of the task he'd undertaken.
-- From the Chronicle of the Oblivion Crisis

Chapter One Hundred

Utterly ignoring Edward's repeated entreaties, curses and threats, the valet had gathered up some supplies for them, straightened out the few things that had been knocked over, and been preparing for their departure when he'd stumbled across a strange skeletal hand and note. Not having the opportunity to evaluate either, due to Edward's rantings, he'd stashed them in his pack, and set out, the furious Imperial hard on his heels.

They'd made their way to the stables in much the same manner as they'd left the house: the valet leading, and Edward following, screaming at him all the way. During their journey, they'd twice been stopped by the Anvil Guard to see that all was well, and once threatened with arrest for disturbing the peace. Edward hadn't dared to share his woes with the police, fearing that they would once again seize his precious amulet, but, each time that they were out of hearing, he'd re-launched his verbal assault.

Finally, riding along the road toward Chorrol, the valet turned to Edward. "Sir," he said, "I'm sorry, but you know what I'm saying makes sense. Suppose he pursues us, and we are ambushed. You'll be the one they'll kill. So it doesn't make sense that you should be the one wearing the amulet!"

Edward stared at the other man, as aghast as he was furious.

"No offense, sir," the valet hastened to apologize. "I mean, you and I both hope that that doesn't happen. But we know that it might. So it's much wiser for me to carry it." He shrugged. "And, furthermore, I know the reason you don't want me to carry it."

Edward blinked. "You do?" Up until now, he'd flattered himself that he'd disguised his greedy ambitions rather well. Was it possible that his annoying servant had really deduced his motives?

"Yes sir. You're afraid that I will in someway mess up, and endanger the mission, maybe lose the amulet. But you've just got to learn to put a little faith in me once in awhile! I am not that clueless, sir!"

Edward growled under his breath. This was not going to be an easy journey, and, unfortunately, it seemed as though it would be a journey that he'd have to take. He knew well enough that there was no way that he'd be able to wrest possession of the amulet from his foolhardy valet; nor, apparently, would he be able to convince him either that the amulet was not the Amulet of Kings or that he should have control of it. So he'd have to wait this one out until they got Weynon Priory. "Then he'll hand it over to me, and that idiot monk will tell him that it's not the Amulet of Kings, and he'll leave me the Oblivion alone..." he mused. "And then I'll have my retirement back." As annoyed as he was, he supposed this wasn't as bad as things could get. "Like if the jewel really was the Amulet of Kings, and this moron servant of mine insisted on returning it...now that would be something to be upset about!" he consoled himself.

His annoyance thus assuaged, Edward allowed himself to enjoy the ride. It was a beautiful day, free of the rain that had plagued his trip to Anvil. Plus, they were heading toward the midlands, and, to his mind, there was no place so wonderful as the midlands. That was the land of the Imperials, the home of the sophisticated, refined people, and as free of barbarians as one could hope a place to be.

"You know, sir, seeing as how we're going to be right outside of it, we should take the opportunity of visiting Chorrol," the valet spoke at length.

Edward frowned. "Why?"

"Well, it's a beautiful little town, sir. The people are quite congenial, and the architecture is remarkably distinct from that in the Imperial City ."

Edward scoffed. "I've no desire to see a bunch of peasant's hovels, thank you very much," he declared superciliously.

The other man grimaced imperceptibly, but said in a tone free of expression, "Oh no sir, no hovels. Very unique, but charming, architecture. I'm sure you'd approve." Edward scoffed again. "And the people really are very nice. As a matter of fact, I've been meaning to get in touch with a friend -- Seed-Neeus -- for some time now, and just haven't had the chance yet."

Edward sighed. His servant always had a bizarre reason for wanting to go to these strange, primitive little towns...to see his fence, to meet a strange stranger, to find an Argonian...but for him? Well, it always seemed that visiting a new town resulted in an unsolicited tour of the dungeons. Even in Bravil, where he hadn't even set foot in the town, he still almost ended up in prison. "I'd rather skip," he declared. "After all, the Emperor's business cannot be delayed."

"Hmm...true enough, sir," the valet agreed, his tone conveying some disappointment.

"We'll have to make sure to go some other time, though," Edward lied.

The valet smiled and nodded. "Yes, thank you sir."

This post has been edited by Rachel the Breton: Feb 24 2011, 05:23 PM

[haute ecole rider]

Third time in a week?? What'd ya do, write up a bunch of chapters and hoard 'em?

Ah, but never mind, I've been enjoying the further adventures of Edward and Norvayne. I'm glad Anvil survived their visit largely intact. I'm sure those sirens won't be missed. Much.

His companion stared at him, clearly amazed. His expression seemed to say, "I knew you were capable of all sorts of stupidity, but I never imagined you'd be dumb enough to bring your retirement with you when visiting a remote cabin to see women you had only just met! Especially not after the purse incident in the Imperial City..." Aloud, however, he only said, "You mean, sir...that you took your retirement money with you?"

'Tis clear, Norvayne's a far better person that I am!

Despite the rather rundown appearance of the house, it seemed warm and pest-free,

Gee, I wonder why?

This persistence was too much for Edward. Was it possible that his valet, even if he would not admit it to himself, harbored some faint inkling of Edward's real intent? "It's not the bloody Amulet of Kings!" he snapped. "It's just a stupid jewel that I...got from him for safekeeping."

"Then he'll hand it over to me, and that idiot monk will tell him that it's not the Amulet of Kings, and he'll leave me the Oblivion alone..." he mused. "And then I'll have my retirement back." As annoyed as he was, he supposed this wasn't as bad as things could get. "Like if the jewel really was the Amulet of Kings, and this moron servant of mine insisted on returning it...now that would be something to be upset about!" he consoled himself.

Oh, Edward, Edward, Edward - *shakes head slowly*

[Grits]

The matter apparently settled to his satisfaction, the valet nodded and said, "Well sir, the bad news is this: I think my house is haunted."

I was rolling!!

The image of the two of them processing across Anvil one after the other, priceless!

[mALX]

"Well, sir, you can make yourself comfortable at Benirus Manor -- my new home -- and wait for me."

And then Edward's dream - SPEW !!! ROFL !!!

Edward felt his jaws clenching. "He's doing it again," he thought. "That pretending-to-be-humble bragging thing.

OMG, how did I ever miss that on the first read - through ??? ROFL !!!!

As a matter of fact, I've been meaning to get in touch with a friend -- Seed-Neeus -- for some time now, and just haven't had the chance yet."

BWAAAHAAAA !!!! Edward ... choke, gasp ... in ...SPEW !!! ... Hackdirt !!!! BWAAA ... choke, gasp ... URK ...

** mALX died laughing in anticipation **

[Rachel the Breton]

Third time in a week?? What'd ya do, write up a bunch of chapters and hoard 'em?

lol, sort of, although not deliberately hoarding them. I actually have over 150 (unposted) chapters written, many that were posted at Bethesda, but some that weren't, waiting to be edited and posted. I'm sort of editing and continuing to write simultaneously...which is nice, because I can pick up any loose ends that I left the last time around and make sure I get it all right this time. This consistent posting spree is actually thanks to my having caught the most horrendous cold...I've been out of work sick for 3 days now...and there's only so much tv one can see, so I've been working on this.
Glad you enjoyed the chapters -- I appreciate the comments.

Grits: lol, I love the valet's outlook on the world -- thanks for posting, and glad you enjoyed the new chapters!

OMG, how did I ever miss that on the first read - through ??? ROFL !!!!

mALX: I think lines like sort of exemplify Edward's outlook on his fellow mortals...any time he feels a twinge of conscience, or the recognition that someone else might be (gasp) better than him at something...he lets it eat him up, imagining that they're as obsessed as he is, lol. Glad you liked these chapters -- thanks for posting!!

[Rachel the Breton]

History was to be made,
By the strangest of all creatures.
And the world to be saved
By the oddest of coincidental accidents.
-- Chronicle of the Oblivion Crisis, continued



Chapter One Hundred and One

Riding for several days straight, only breaking to make camp and eat dried food, Edward's enthusiasm for travel had waned, and then disappeared. His back and neck ached from sleeping on the hard earth, and his bones were thoroughly jarred from the constant riding. He was ravenous for "real food" -- anything other than foraged berries and dried meat -- and he was furious that his servant had still not relinquished possession of the amulet to him. His only consolation was that they had, at last, reached Weynon Priory.

He'd held his peace with his valet up until now, knowing that he could not alienate the man carrying his retirement, but was now eagerly awaiting the moment when, Friar Jauffre dismissing the silly notion that this was anything more than a deliciously expensive ruby, he was free to dispose of his treasure as he saw fit -- and, directly after that, his wayward servant.

Slowing their horses to a steady clomp-clomp along the cobblestone road, Edward and his servant entered the Priory grounds. "Here we are, sir," the valet declared cheerily.

Edward glared at him silently. No matter how sore, aggravated or tired Edward found himself, it seemed that his fool of a servant was, unfortunately, never affected.

His valet seemed not to notice his glare, however, for he continued speaking as though nothing was amiss. "There's the Priory House," he told his master, pointing to a large, elegant building, that seemed a cross between a manor house and a church. "You'll likely find Friar Jauffre in there."

Edward frowned at the other man, assuming a condescending air. "Don't be absurd," he told him. "He's a monk or preacher or bishop or whatever. He'll be in that building." Here, he pointed to the chapel. The other man seemed about to disagree, but Edward cut him off shortly. "Don't argue," he told him. "Just give me the amulet, and take care of the horses."

"Of course, sir," the valet returned. Retrieving the amulet from a pocket inside his jacket, he handed it to Edward. "I do believe, though, sir, that, if I remember correctly..."

Exhaling a loud, vexed sigh, Edward interrupted, "Who spoke to the Emperor? Who was given this quest?"

"You, of course, sir," the other man answered. "I just meant that..."

"Then stop trying to tell me how to do it!" Edward snapped. With this, he slipped out of his saddle in an attempt to imitate the suave, easy dismounting that he'd seen the Imperial Legionnaires do. Instead of landing effortlessly as they did, he fell heavily to the cobblestones and twisted his ankle as he landed. It was only his horse's presence that prevented him from collapsing headlong, and, even so, he found it difficult to stand on his injured ankle. Nonetheless, he was determined to make a brave effort, for he had no intention of diluting the strong, commanding, arrogant front he'd just established with his servant by injuring himself so clumsily in a foolhardy attempt to impress.

As valiant as his efforts were, however, he was unable to change the fact that his progress was slow, and awkwardly reminiscent of an inebriated duck's waddling. Nonetheless, he maintained his courage in the face of his trials, and, at last, reached the chapel. Pushing the doors open with difficulty, he limped inside. No sooner than had he shut the doors did his demeanor change, and all at once he was wailing and cursing in agony.

A rather shocked monk at the far end of the chapel looked up at him. "My good man!" he reproached. "Please, moderate your language. You are in a Chapel of Talos, after all!"

Edward glanced up at him, staring daggers at the man. "Talos be hanged!" he exclaimed. "I'm in pain!"

The monk's eyes widened in shock. "Sir, please!" he spoke. "Take care not to offend the gods, and not here, in our chapel to them!"

Edward's expression darkened, and he shot back, "The gods can go to Mehrunes Dagon for all that I care! And you can go with them, you stuffy little twit." Then, an idea coming to him, his expression froze. "You're not...Friar Jauffre, are you?"

The affronted little monk shook his head. "No, he is in the Priory house. I am Brother Piner. However, if it will cause you to curb your language, I can heal your injury for you."

Edward hesitated. He was in no mood to be courteous to an annoying monk -- and had been just about to tell him off but good, so soon as he'd found out that he wasn't the monk he'd been looking for. But, by the same token, his foot really did hurt...and, he didn't have the skill to heal it. "Alright, fine," he snapped. "Just get on with it."

The monk nodded, and began to chant what seemed to be a ritual prayer. Edward sighed in disgust. If his experience was anything to go by, the gods couldn't possibly exist. "If they did," he thought, "my servant would be fish food at the bottom of the sea right now, and I'd be the richest man in Tamriel." All at once, he felt a strange, cool surge through his ankle. "Ahh!" he screamed, breaking quickly from his reverie and leaping backwards in sheer surprise. "What in Oblivion...?" But, as he landed, he was suddenly aware that he experienced no pain in his injured leg whatsoever. His eyes widened. "You mean...it really worked?" he asked wonderingly.

The monk smiled. "Of course...an easy spell, really. Just asking the right blessing from the gods, you know."

Edward shivered, suddenly feeling not at all comfortable. "Umm...sorry about that, Talons, or Tables or whatever your name is. I didn't mean any of that hanging stuff...and, of course I knew you existed. I, uhhm, well, ahh, thanks."

His shaking continued until he was out of the chapel, and Edward breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped into the afternoon air. It was bad enough to insult the gods, but to insult them in a chapel? "That," he reasoned, "probably wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done." This realization come to, however, he promptly dismissed it in favor of other matters. "Now, that stupid valet was right...he is in the priory house...how the oblivion does that man know things like that?"

Passing the valet without so much glancing at him, Edward marched straight for the house. He might have been right, but Edward had no intention of acknowledging the fact. Reaching the manor, he stepped inside. It was a simply furnished affair, with practical but not terribly fine furniture, and little in the way of finery adorning the walls. "How can these people live like that?" Edward wondered in disgust. "No finery? No riches? Just hewn wooden furniture, and so many books?" He shuddered again, and glanced about quickly. This place made him almost as uncomfortable as the chapel, so the sooner he was out of it, the better.

Seeing no one about, Edward headed upstairs. "Hello?" he asked of no one in particular. "Father Jauffre?"

"I am Friar Jauffre," a strong voice called.

Edward jumped. He had still not seen anyone, and so was unsure of where the voice was coming from. "Where...where are you?"

"Over here, nitwit," the voice answered. This time, Edward followed the direction from where it came, and traveled toward it.

"Ahh," he sighed, rounding a corner and coming across a little enclave that he'd missed before. He was not, then, speaking with some sort of specter.

The Friar, an elderly but burly man seated at a wooden table strewn with books and manuscripts, glanced up at him as he entered, seeming almost annoyed by his presence. "Yes? And how can I help you?"

Edward drew himself up tall, and, assuming his most supercilious tones, declared, "I am Edward, who was hand chosen by the Emperor himself to deliver a message to you."

The Friar's eyebrows rose, and he stared at Edward, as though studying him. Then a light lit his eye. "Oooohhhhhh, you mean the escaped prisoner?"

Edward frowned. "Released, actually," he told the Friar, "by the Emperor himself. And wrongly and most unjustly imprisoned, although what business of yours that is I cannot say."

Friar Jauffre blinked, then apologized, "Well now, I meant no offense. I was just...trying to place you."

"Well," Edward sniffed, taking the amulet out of his pocket, "as I said, the Emperor gave me an amulet --"

He'd not even finished his sentence when Jauffre had leapt from his seat, sprung forward, grabbed the amulet, and returned to his chair, declaring tearfully, "The Amulet of Kings! It's safe at last!"

Edward blinked. The Friar was surprisingly nimble for a man of his age. "Ummm...what are you doing with that?" he asked.

"The Amulet of Kings?" Jauffre answered. "Didn't the Emperor tell you?"

"Umm...not really...you see, the assassin interrupted..."

"Oh, of course," the Friar said, nodding comprehension as Edward's lies trailed off. "Well, he wanted you to bring this to me so that I could find the lost heir and give it to him."

"The lost heir?" Edward asked. "I thought all the king's sons were dead?"

"Well, that's true, but not true."

Edward stared at him. "Monks, politicians and philosophers," he thought. "Only they can simultaneously make two contradictory statements with a straight face." Aloud, however, he said, "Yes, well, is it 'true' as in they are dead, or is it 'not true' as in they are not dead?"

Jauffre shrugged in an explanatory gesture. "Both."

This post has been edited by Rachel the Breton: Feb 25 2011, 10:57 PM

[Rachel the Breton]

Worlds of doom stirred outside mankind’s door,
So in whose feeble hands did the gods
Place the fate of the world evermore?
In those of one of history’s greatest frauds.
-- Chronicle of the Oblivion Crisis, continued




Chapter One Hundred and Two


"You see," the Friar continued, "all of the king's legitimate sons are dead, but there is one...Martin, his illegitimate son."

Edward blinked. "You mean, the Emperor had another son?"

"Exactly. He used to be a monk, under my guidance. As a young man, he grew eager to learn the secrets of the gods, as did many of his fellow acolytes. They threw themselves into study. They hungered to please the divines. Knowledge and servitude were their gods. You can guess the rest. They got in over their heads...too much studying, too much caffeine, not enough sleep. People died. His friends died. He put those days behind him, but the bitter experience drove him from our ranks forever."

Edward stared at him, an eyebrow raised.

"Anyway," Jauffre continued with a sigh, "he was weak. Disappointingly weak. He has since disappeared. We've had no word from him, no sightings of him. For all we know, he could be dead. But now...now we must find him." He sighed again. "And I suppose we must make the weak honoured user king."

Edward blinked. "Wait...you mean the empire's only heir is missing, maybe dead?"

"I'm afraid so."

"And that really is the Amulet of Kings?"

"Of course."

"Then why don't I...safeguard it while you search for the missing heir?"

Friar Jauffre stared at him incredulously. "Don't be preposterous," he declared, assuming an almost bellicose air. "You are but one man, whereas I am the Grandmaster of the Blades. We Blades will protect it with our lives, guard it with our souls. Nothing, living, dead or otherwise will so much as lay a putrid finger on it!"

"Hmph," Edward snorted. "Weren't you the idiots who were guarding the Emperor when he got bludgeoned to death? If his brains could be spilled all over the floor while in your hands, I dare say..."

Friar Jauffre's eyes bulged as Edward began speaking, and he instinctively reached for a drawer. In a flash, he'd drawn a nasty silver dagger, and was in the process of rising, when he froze. "Oh," he said, clearing his throat abashedly as Edward trailed off in horror. "Forgive me...habit, you know."

His arrogance melted into fear, Edward decided it would be best to leave this place as quickly as his legs could take him. It was bad enough to be surrounded by potentially hostile gods, but there was no need to add deranged soldier-monks to the list. "Yes, quite alright. Perfectly understandable," he said, trying hard not to roll his eyes or bolt from the spot. "So, I'll just take my leave." Then, an idea struck him, and he added, "If there's no reward for me to collect or anything."

"Yes, you may as well go," Jauffre was saying. "I don't suppose you'd be much help in locating the heir."

Edward frowned. "All this aggravation, and no reward," he thought to himself. "I hope the damn priory burns down while they're all abed." Aloud, however, he said in his most congenial tones, "True. Well, I'll be off now." This said, he took to his heels and practically ran out of the priory house, leaving Friar Jauffre lost in meditation, still toying with his dagger.

Once he was outside, the depressing reality of his situation hit him full force. His retirement was gone, he had not a penny to show for it, and he, Edward, had unknowingly held the Amulet of Kings in his own hands, and had missed the opportunity to make for himself a fortune like no other. And, to top it all off, his servant had been right about everything -- where Friar Jauffre was, what the Amulet was...everything.

It was unbelievable, tragic, and utterly depressing. So, Edward trudged toward the stables, where he assumed his valet would be, with an excessively heavy heart. "At least," he consoled himself, "the gods haven't done anything awful to me, even after I damned them all."

Nearing the stable, he broke from his melancholy reflection and slowed to a halt as he saw his valet and another man -- the stable-hand, no doubt -- gathered about a collapsed equine body. Recognizing the body as that of his horse, he ran forward. "My horse! What happened?" he demanded.

The valet looked up. "I don't know, sir...I can't explain it. The poor thing just suddenly dropped dead, out of nowhere."

Edward stared, open-mouthed. "How?" he demanded. "Horses don't just die out of nowhere! Something must have happened!"

"Well," the third man offered, "I did see...well, not to sound silly or anything...but I could have sworn that I saw...well, a bolt of lightning shoot out of the sky and hit him."

"Come now," the valet scoffed, "it's a beautiful clear day, not a bit of thunder. How could lightning strike this poor horse?"

But to Edward's mind, there was no mystery whatsoever. He began to shake violently. "Quick!" he told his valet. "We need to get out of here!"

[Rachel the Breton]

Mehrunes Dagon is a pest,
Mehrunes Dagon is our bane.
Y'all better put him to rest
Before he goes all insane.
-- Music for the Legionnaires, sung by a trio of traveling entertainers from the western provinces

Chapter One Hundred and Three

Edward groaned. The gods weren't just revengeful, they were sadistic. They had not just killed a perfectly obedient and likable horse, but they'd done so in order to saddle him with the first horse he'd ever ridden...that nasty, disagreeable nag he'd stolen from Snak gra-Bura so long ago. The Priory, it turned out, had made an arrangement with Snak gra-Bura whereby she would bring her old horses, and they would send them out to pasture and care for them for what was left of their lives. Having none of the Priory's regular horses to spare for Edward, the stable-hand had given him this one.

So, trudging along slowly, at an unalterable pace determined by his horse, he and his valet had headed toward the Imperial City . The other man had attempted to convince him to visit Chorrol, but Edward was steadfast in his refusal. He was sick of the barbarians and barbarian outposts. He needed to return to the beloved stone walls of his Imperial City, the one civilized place in Tamriel. Plus, he still had a contract on Valen Dreth, and Dreth hadn't been released yet. "I can't wait until we get there," he thought, "so I sojourn once more amongst civilized people...and so I can kill that damned elf."

"So, sir," the valet spoke, interrupting his thoughts. "What did Friar Jauffre say?"

Edward glared at him. While it would never to do acknowledge the actual reason for his anger -- the fact that the valet had insisted on returning the amulet of kings, rather than allowing Edward to use it to enrich himself at the empire's expense -- he was nonetheless furious. "Stuff," he answered.

The valet frowned. "I really am sorry about your horse, sir," he said at length, "but there was nothing I could do...it happened so quickly."

Edward sighed. It was a futile effort to hold a grudge against his wayward servant -- the man was an idiot, with all the perceptive powers of a dead cow. "He said that he needs to find the remaining heir."

The other man's face brightened. "Then there really is another heir?"

"Of course," Edward retorted. "I told you all about me being the king's son."

The valet frowned at him, an eyebrow raised. "Are you saying, sir, that Friar Jauffre is...searching for you?"

"No," Edward snapped. "The old fool is looking for some twit who used to study under him or something like that, but disappeared a long time ago after a bunch of students died in some warped studying accident." Edward hissed his disgust, taking no note of his valet's expression.

"Indeed, sir?" the other man asked. "Did he give a name?"

Edward frowned, in part in concentration, and in part in aggravation. "He might have...I don't remember it though. And, anyway, what do you care?"

"I might know him, sir," the valet answered. "Are you sure you don't remember?"

Edward's frown deepened. "Quite sure...and don't be pompous...it's very unbecoming."

"Pompous, sir?" the other man asked, taken aback by the accusation.

"Yes, pompous! To pretend that you might know a king or a king's son..." Edward hissed in disgust, but hurried to add, "Other than me, I mean."

[mALX]

Friar Jauffre stared at him incredulously. "Don't be preposterous," he declared, assuming an almost bellicose air. "You are but one man, whereas I am the Grandmaster of the Blades. We Blades will protect it with our lives, guard it with our souls. Nothing, living, dead or otherwise will so much as lay a putrid finger on it!"

"Hmph," Edward snorted. "Weren't you the idiots who were guarding the Emperor when he got bludgeoned to death? If his brains could be spilled all over the floor while in your hands, I dare say..."

Friar Jauffre's eyes bulged as Edward began speaking, and he instinctively reached for a drawer. In a flash, he'd drawn a nasty silver dagger, and was in the process of rising, when he froze. "Oh," he said, clearing his throat abashedly as Edward trailed off in horror. "Forgive me...habit, you know."

Jauffre - the madman killer - SPEW !!!! - I have something I wrote about his character in your story somewhere - have to find it and post it as soon as I get the free time to find it - I LOVE what you did to Jauffre !!!!!!


The horse ... I had forgotten about the horse - BWAAAHAAA !!!! ROFL !!!!!



This post has been edited by mALX: Feb 27 2011, 04:04 AM