Trey in Mournhold, Chapter 9 Options

[Black Hand]

S.G.M.

[treydog]

When I put on Barilzar’s ring, it was without a thought as to where it might take me- I only hoped it would be somewhere away from the awful stillness of the Clockwork City. However, before I could even begin to probe the possibilities of the artifact, I felt myself being drawn into the void of teleportation magic. Someone clearly had a destination in mind for me, whether I willed it or not. Unfortunately, there was little I could do to prepare for any danger that might await me at the other end- I always required a few seconds to recover from the disorienting effects of teleportation. That period of helplessness would be quite sufficient for any hostile entity to kill me, if that was the intent. In reality, the location at which I arrived was not so deadly as I feared, even if it was not precisely comforting, either. When I regained my senses, I stood in the center of the High Chapel of Mournhold, in the spot from which Almalexia had last departed. Her guards made no move to accost me, only stared with impassive eyes and then turned their minds back to whatever thoughts occupied them. I was somehow able to avoid my usual talent for talking myself into trouble- the key was to say nothing. When no one stopped me, I walked slowly to the door and got out of there. I followed the same plan for leaving the Temple itself, and was congratulating myself on my success when I suddenly found myself unable to move. Apparently, I was not the only one so afflicted- everyone I could see from the Temple steps seemed frozen in mid-stride.

Then there came a shimmering in the air before me, and an ethereal figure appeared. The figure took the form of a woman, draped in a pale blue gown, and crowned with stars. Even with my limited interest in religion, I recognized her as the manifestation of Azura, goddess of dawn and dusk. She stared at me with bottomless eyes, seeming to read every bit of my soul as easily as I might peruse a broadsheet in the market. And then I heard a voice in my head, a voice that clearly came from the figure who stood before me.

“You have done well, mortal. The death of Almalexia is a boon for all of Morrowind, though it may take time for this to be understood. She would have betrayed the Dunmer as surely as she betrayed all those she loved. This was her curse, and this was her undoing.”

She paused, then gave a gentle smile as she seemed to find a source of guilt that lay close to the surface of my mind. In a reassuring tone, she added,

“Weep not for Sotha Sil. He shed his mortality long ago, and I am certain his death was no small relief to him. These gods lived with the burden of a power no mortal was meant to possess.”

Her voice became more forceful as she concluded,

“There is much for you still to do. Vivec lives, and he may yet have a part to play in your future. Continue on your chosen path. The skies of Mournhold are clear once again. Let these people suffer no longer. Now go, mortal. Embrace your destiny, and go with my blessing.”

With a wave of her hand, Azura was gone, and I was again able to move.
Yes, I was able to move, for all the good it might do me. I might go to the farthest reaches of mysterious Akavir and it would not matter. When I discovered that the Emperor had “plans for me,” I was annoyed. When I realized that Helseth was behind the attempts to kill me, I was outraged. But what was I to do with the knowledge that Azura had taken an interest in me? True to my stubborn nature, I determined that I would ignore the goddess and her charge to “embrace my destiny.” I did not even know what that admonition meant. But I did know that I had unfinished business in Mournhold, business that involved a murderous monarch. Therefore, I wrenched the Mazed Band from my finger and tossed it to a ragged Bosmer beggar who loitered nearby.

“Here you go, friend,” I said, “I hope it brings you better luck than it did me.”

I left him gaping like a hooked fish and made my way to the Royal Palace.

Helseth was in his usual place in the Throne Room, and he eyed me with his accustomed mixture of disdain, suspicion, and superiority. He let me stand before him for a while, until he realized that I had no intention of bending my knee to him. Tiring of the silence, he spoke in a bored tone,

“I have been hearing a great many stories about you, Trey. And about the goddess Almalexia. In fact, I’ve been hearing stories about a great many strange happenings in my city. I sent you to investigate the source of the attack on the Plaza. I assume the rumors I have heard relate to that. What have you learned?”

As much because I had to tell someone what had transpired in the Clockwork City as because I wanted to savor Helseth’s reaction, I told the truth, leaving nothing out. He disappointed me, though, showing no sign beyond a slight raising of his brow as I recounted the story of madness and murder. He paused for a time, as if marshalling his thoughts, then spoke quietly:

“The attacks were Almalexia's doing? And now you say that both she and Sotha Sil lie dead in the Clockwork City? She murdered Sotha Sil, and then tried to kill you as well. Astounding! I believe your tale, Trey, but do not expect my people to be so accepting of it. You will find it is not so easy to kill these gods in the hearts and minds of their followers. It will take time, but this will be a new era for Morrowind, and I will lead them into it. You have done well, my friend. You have my gratitude.”

Before I could draw breath to tell him what I thought of his gratitude, he gestured to one of his guards, who stepped forward bearing a bundle which he laid at my feet. When I examined it, it turned out to be a full set of Royal Guard armor. How like Helseth it was to give me such a useless gift, to try and make it seem that I had fought the goddess as a service to him! And how like him it was to try and take ownership of me, whom he had so recently tried to have murdered. I spoke none of those thoughts, simply gathered up the armor with a murmured thanks and departed for the Palace basement. Once there, I wasted no time in mixing some very special potions. The work was tedious and exacting, but I did not notice the passing of time. When I was satisfied with my work, it was late at night, and I was able to make a quiet visit to the now-empty Throne room. And then, I returned to my basement hideaway and gave myself up to healing sleep. I was able to rest without difficulty, knowing that another day or two at the most would see me finished with my long, dark sojourn in Mournhold.

[canis216]

Seems like Trey may have something up his sleeve... now I'm curious. (As if I wasn't fascinated enough already...)

This post has been edited by canis216: Feb 4 2007, 11:08 PM

[minque]

Oh-my.god, what´s he up to now`? Making potions? I wonder who will have the perhaps doubtful luck to taste them? I´m glad Trey sees the end of his sojourn to Mournhold and we all know what awaits him when he returns to Vvardenfell, don´t we?

Oh my Trey..I wish you all the luck on Nirn

[The Metal Mallet]

Trey's reaction to his meeting with Azura is perfect! Very like Trey to act that way. Now I'm eager to see how he finishes up his loose ends...

[Malpense the Dark]

I must admit that I only recently read through Trey in Mournhold, and then in my foolishness read The Story of Trey afterwards. Stupid me to read the series backwards. Anyhow having read the two tales of Trey I have become completly engaged in the story line. I have to say that you are the best internet writer I have ever read. It is truley masterful how you have engaged me into this story, even though I have played Morrowind, it is just facinating how it seemed this was a completly different tale, mainly because of the character of Trey and how interesting you have made him.

My hats off to you sir!

[Black Hand]

Dang, How is it I always seem to miss these updates? Freind Trey, I'm too used to the once-a-week pattern But dont worry, your recent brash of post machining is most welcome.

I quote the Queen song "I want it all"....in which the lyrics is the title pretty much, followed by, "I want it now."

[treydog]

The king awoke in darkness, uncertain of what had disturbed his rest. He reached toward the lamp on the bedside table- or rather, he tried to do so. For some reason, his arm would not move. And when he tried to call out, he found that he could not speak, either. A whisper of sound came to his ears and a dark-clad figure moved into his field of vision.

I watched Helseth quietly for several minutes before I spoke.

“It was not easy to come up with the proper combination of ingredients, your majesty. It was a difficult matter, finding a poison that would paralyze the vocal cords and limbs, while leaving the victim free to breathe.”

His eyes darted from side to side and I anticipated the question that he was unable to ask.

“You wish to know how it was done? Very well, we have some time, and I am not a cruel man. In the throne room, I noticed that you have a habit of tipping your writing quill with your tongue. That is not a good idea for someone who has reason to fear poison.”

Seating myself in a chair beside the bed, I continued:

“Your staff is very careful to check all of your food- but they don’t bother with your ink. As I imagine you are aware, ink-making, alchemy, and poisons have many features in common. And that may be a fortunate thing for you. I say ‘may’ because you now have a choice.”

I removed a by-now familiar rolled parchment from my pocket and showed it to the king.

“Perhaps you recognize this? It is a writ for the murder of a certain Breton by the name of Trey. You will notice that I have added a line- the bit that says, ‘I hereby rescind this order.’ And now we arrive at your choice. I don’t wish for you to sign this paper- after all, how could you? No, what I desire is your agreement. If you give me that agreement, you will live. If not, you will die. I talked earlier about the difficulty involved in compounding the poison you ingested. I should probably point out that it will stop your heart and lungs eventually … unless you receive the antidote. Nod your head if you understand.”

When he gave a jerky nod, I continued.

“You sent the Dark Brotherhood to murder me because you believed I might be a threat to your control of Morrowind. You assumed that, because the Emperor had taken an interest in me, that I might be dangerous. And now you have discovered that you were right- I am a threat and I am dangerous. But the irony is this- if you had not sent your pet assassins after me, I would never have set foot in Mournhold. All I ever wanted was to be left alone! What I am now is what the Emperor and you have made me with your paranoia and your endless plotting!”

My voice was rising, and I took several breaths to calm myself.

“So. The agreement. I want you promise to leave me alone. And if I am ever so fortunate as to have a family, you will also leave them alone. I have already demonstrated that I can breach your defenses if I must. If another assassin comes after me, I will finish this. On the other hand, if you accept my terms, I will leave Mournhold and never return. If you agree to this bargain, I will give you the antidote. Do you agree?”

Helseth fixed me with a glare and considered my words for some time. Though I hated him, I had to grant that he did not lack courage. He had no way of knowing how long he had before the poison’s final effects took hold, and yet he waited as if he had all the time in the world. At last, he blinked his eyes and nodded once. I released the breath I had not realized I was holding and said,

“Very well. The antidote is in the ink I used to amend your writ of execution. I am afraid you will literally have to eat your words. However, I will tear it into small pieces. As I said, I am not a cruel man.”

And one other thing happened- the most important thing. After my last “interview” with Helseth, I went to Ebonheart and from there to Vivec. As I walked, I considered the perversity of love. Almalexia had loved being a goddess, had loved the power it gave her. At first, she had tried to serve her worshippers. But, as the power waned, she became more and more obsessed with her own mortality. Even so, the people of Mournhold loved her- or at least, their image of her. Sotha Sil loved the idea of perfection, and tried to make himself so. In the end, he lost all sense of what it meant to be alive. In that, at least, I agree with Azura- I think he welcomed death when it came. Barenziah loved her son, Helseth, and expressed that love by manipulating the Emperor into making him King of Morrowind. And she wanted him to be safe, so she filled his head with stories of plots and intrigues and knives in the dark. So well did he learn her lessons that he became paranoid and murderous, afraid of every shadow and willing to believe any story of a nefarious plot. And what of me? Who did I love? And who loved me? No one- save my poor, dead mother, lost to me all these years. In that fragile state of mind, I wandered back to Aurane Frernis’ Apothecary shop, hoping the sight of a Breton girl and the sound of her voice would cheer me. Let me be honest- I hoped that she would perhaps see me as more than an errand boy. But when I walked into the shop with a tentative smile and a friendly greeting, she just glanced at me coldly and said,
“I have no further tasks for you at this time…. What was your name again? The Roland’s Tears you brought me were quite sufficient.”

The smile died on my lips and I turned quickly to the door, sightlessly blundering into the passage beyond. I slammed into someone, who spoke sharply, saying,

“Watch where you’re going, you idiot! If you’ve spilled my paints, I’ll use you to mop them up!”

Recovering, I saw a woman with green eyes and red hair- red hair and a temper to match, if the look on her face was any indication. Still, there was a hint of a smile on her face, along with lines that said she laughed often- but there was sadness, too, hidden deep. And if you think that no one could have seen all that in a single look, I am sorry to have to disagree, for I was there and know what I saw. When I did not respond, she glanced at the closed door behind me and softened a bit. Again with that slight smile, she repeated,

“Oh, yes, you are an idiot. Aurane is shallow; all she will ever see in you is a poor Breton she can manipulate and then cast aside.”

Stung by the accuracy of her words, I bent to gather her scattered packages and mumbled, rather rudely,

“And who might you be and what do you see?”

With a laugh she said,

“Baria Portia Doyella at your service. And as to what I see, that is for me to know. Now good day.”

I groaned. An Imperial! Of course she would be an Imperial! Who else could be so arrogant, so rude, so blasted right about everything? And as I stood fuming, she took her packages from my unresisting hands and disappeared down the hall. But she had given me her name and it was not hard for a thief like me to find out where she lived in the St. Delyn canton. And I found reasons to visit the city and to go where I might see her- from a distance. And of course a great many other things happened, of which I have written elsewhere. And I still found excuses to look for her and, eventually, to speak with her.

Until this day, I have told no one but the king of the death of Almalexia, who called herself a goddess. Whether any in the Temple know or suspect that she is gone, I cannot say, although I imagine Fedris Hler knows exactly what passed. Obviously, the politics of the situation will ensure that the priests deny any rumors. As for Helseth, he is a Dunmer, a member of a race with long lives and long memories. Although there has been no formal acknowledgement of our agreement, I think we understand one another. At least, the Dark Brotherhood has not troubled me in all the long years since. I stay away from Mournhold and he stays away from Vvardenfell. And I am careful of what I eat and have friends who let me know of any strangers that come around. It is not the most restful way to live, but I like to imagine that the king loses the odd hour or so of sleep over me, as well. As to why I commit these volatile words to paper at last, it is because I have a son now, one who carries my name and may someday carry the burden of my deeds. He has a right to know.

As I close my journal at last, the woman who- beyond hope, beyond reason, beyond imagining- came to love me; the queen of my heart, calls me away from my writing and I have to ask her,

“So, sweet, do you still think I am an idiot?”

A smile lights her face and warms my heart as she says,

“Sometimes. But you can’t help it. You are a man, after all.”

Here Ends the Story of Trey in Mournhold

This post has been edited by treydog: Feb 10 2007, 12:52 AM

[Kaleban]

Nice dissolve...

Seriously, that was a great end, I think Helseth squirming in fear for the rest of his days is a far worse punishment than a mercy kill. Good job.

MORE!

[The Metal Mallet]

An excellent denoument to this chapter of Trey's life. I definitely liked the addition of the present moment at the end. That was great.

Kudos to you!

[Malpense the Dark]

Really great man, really great. A fitting end to a great story. Not that I'm pushing, but your not going to start a Trey in Sostheium are you?

[canis216]

Beautiful. Just beautiful. A very appropriate--and very clever--way to end the story.

[Black Hand]

**Violins Play in Background. A Man in a tuxedo walks slowly onto centerstage, he becomes enshrouded in the spotlight.**

"I thank you all for attending one of our finest additions to Masterpiece Storytellers, brought to you by the extremely talented Treydog. Good Night!"

[Kaleban]

So what's next for Trey? Solstheim?

Or perhaps his son is even now ensconced in the Imperial Dungeon beneath Imperial City?

[treydog]

No, sorry- not more Trey- just a few words from his canine creator

And so I put down my pen after a long and rewarding journey. I have not decided yet “what happens next.” My feeling is that Trey will go into his well-deserved retirement, as was mentioned at the end of the original story. There may be a “TNG” (Trey- Next Generation)- but I want to work out in more detail what that will involve before I commit myself to it.

More important (to me at least), is the fact that there would have been no Trey of High Rock nor Trey in Mournhold if not for all of my wonderful readers. He began some 4 years and two jobs ago, as a whim- a moment of boredom that sought relief in writing. The kind and dedicated reaction my effort received was beyond my imagining, and necessitated that I continue. It has also been a labor of love- I have enjoyed living with the stubborn, mouthy Breton who took up residence inside my head. He dictated the way his story would go- often in opposition to what I had planned. For example, I had the ending regarding Helseth in mind almost from the beginning. However, I initially had no intention of making Trey a “god-slayer.” He was going to track down the DB, find out who had set them on his track- and deal with it. But Helseth refused to come out of his blasted private quarters until our hero had gotten himself entangled with Almalexia…. And then came the ash storm which his sense of responsibility and fairness would not allow him to leave unresolved.

He was actually somewhat underpowered to face the goddess- so I imagined that he might receive a bit of help- and that the real Nerevar might take the opportunity to exact vengeance. The overlapping scene that took place in the Dome of Sotha Sil may not correspond precisely with the lore, but there were only 3 living beings who knew precisely how Nerevar actually died. Two of those are dead, and the third speaks in riddles, as poets often do.

The last, most significant thing I want to say is: “Thank you.” Thanks to everyone who read, who commented, who supplied ideas (perhaps without realizing it- yes, mplantinga, I am talking about you), who kept the story alive by caring. Special thanks to Alexander, Stargelman, and the moderating team- you folks have created a warm and welcoming home for all of us. And special thanks also to everyone who felt inspired to pick up a pen or fire up the word processor- writing, at its best, is a conversation. Please keep talking- I will be listening- and hopefully chiming in with more comments in the future. I wish I could list by name every single person to whom I feel grateful- you all deserve to be recognized- but I would leave someone out. Memory tends to go when you are as old a doggie as I….. But even if I cannot call your names to mind, be assured that each of you holds a special place in my heart, my dear friends.

[mplantinga]

I really enjoyed this final installment of Trey in Mournhold. Your unique, creative way of dealing with Helseth kept a smirk on my face for quite a while. I can only imagine the fear and anger running through Helseth's mind when he realized that Trey could indeed become the threat he had imagined. And to make him "eat his words" was a stroke of genius. A fitting final act for a pompous, overbearing king.

I can't help but repeat what I have said many times before: thank you for sharing your vision of Trey with us. It has always been a pleasure, and I am sad to see it come to an end. I can only hope that someday another character "takes up residence inside [your] head" and prompts you to tell his/her tale.

[canis216]

Somehow I get the idea that Trey isn't foolish enough to head off to Solstheim... but then, who knows what could happen? Yes, I do see Trey retiring... but I do hope to see Treydog penning another wonderful story--'twas your wonderful work that kept me coming to see this site ('thou it was Sinder Velvin's parody that brought me here to begin with) until I got up the gumption to put out some work of my own.

[jack cloudy]

While it saddens me that this is the likely end of Trey's adventures, I am pleased with the end. He's been through a lot. I'm sure that a nice retirement would be part of his plans after all that intrige. (not to mention the whole Nerevarine thing that happens to him later.)

So let's all give a salute to Trey, the Breton of High Rock. And like everyone else, I hope that someday you'll make your return with a new character.

[The Metal Mallet]

Well, if you ever decide to pen some future adventures I'll likely be around to read them. You got me hooked Trey

Indeed, it has been quite a journey to see a stableboy from High Rock turn into what he has become now. I loved following his adventures and hope to see future work from yourself. I'm sure Trey of High Rock will always be a focal point for this website.

[Ola Martin]

Trey, exactly how many pages would a book with all your stories be? I t would be cool if that huge library mod for oblivion had been finfished, and all your stories in a room^^ wow.