treydog: Thank you for the resources. I just read
Of Blades, Fights and Assassins, and now I can't wait to write a sword fight and then go back and read it again to see how much I remembered. Research is fun. Thank you for the warm welcome.
I tend to prefer character driven stories too. It helps me to have the game's events to move things along.
mALX: I LOVE your enthusiasm!!
Thank you so much for your welcome and support! Arnand was a total surprise, he came out of nowhere when I was writing about something else. I'm glad the end was a surprise. It's hard to name a chapter without giving too much away.
SubRosa: Thank you for the resources. I am reading more than I am writing, which I think is good at this point. Thank you for sharing your impressions - it helps me so much to know whether or not I managed to get what was in my head all the way into the story.
I'm glad you enjoyed the Mages Guild attending to business. In the game I'm always asking myself what these people do all day while they're waiting for me to show up and ask them if they've heard any rumors. I don't think they're just standing around talking about seeing a mudcrab.
With the
"Pleasedon'ttellCarahil" I was going for that breathless moment after something has occured and everything on a person is still too clenched for speech, but now I think it's gimmicky. Changed it!
Jacki Dice: I'm glad I didn't start him off in Bruma in the winter time, that would have put the brakes on the sweaty shirtlessness.
Thank you for your comments! My first attempt at this chapter read like an employment application. I'm happy to hear I did some showing.
Destri Melarg: Glad you like the name
Thank you so much for your comments and your encouragement, it means a lot to me! I am on my second read through Foxy's manifesto, and I am getting even more out of it the second time. There was one forehead-smacking moment in the next chapter that I managed to avoid already.
Thank you for sharing your impression of Jerric. That's just what I was aiming for, although I hadn't quite thought of Lennie and George. The big blond is easy to mis-judge, even in Cyrodiil. The plant details you picked out were so fun to write.
"The lore is there to serve your story, not the other way around." I have written this across the top of my much referenced map of Cyrodiil to help keep me from getting too bogged down worrying about what is correct. Great advice, thank you!
I'm glad you're hooked!
Acadian: Thank you for the warm welcome, your encouragement means a lot to me!
I love the leading ladies on this forum, and I have a leading lady character of my own who is still too precious for me to write much about yet. I'm practicing on poor Jerric.
Everything clicked when Arnand showed up and demanded to be in the story. Before that I was wrestling with a chapter that sounded like a singles ad. Yikes.
Thank you for the nit, I fixed it. I am amazed how my eyes can fill in the blanks with what I know is supposed to be there.
Zalphon: Thank you! Here comes another chapter!
Chapter 2: On the Gold Road, Part 1
Jerric opened the Anvil Main Gate. It was balanced to swing easily despite its massive weight. “Heinrich Oaken-Hull has a Bosmer for a wife,” one of the guards was saying. The gate swung shut on the other man’s reply. He nodded to the guards who were stationed outside the gate.
Two pairs on the gate. He wondered if there had been trouble on the road. Then his mind turned to more pressing matters.
Heinrich Oaken-Hull sounds like a Nord's name, he thought. Jerric imagined the shortest Nord he had ever seen. Then he imagined the tallest Bosmer.
How would that even work, he wondered.
His long strides started him toward the Gold Road. Mid-day had passed, but he knew he could easily make the town of Brina’s Crossing by nightfall. Foot traffic congested the area around the gate. Nothing moved on the road where he could see it stretching up into the hills.
An Imperial man stood at the edge of the road opposite the stables, shifting his feet in a restless manner. He wore fine clothing, a travel cloak, and a short sword on his hip. His eyes searched the crowd. When he spotted Jerric his face took on a calculating look.
Jerric slowed as he approached. He was reasonably certain they hadn’t met, but the man appeared to have intentions. He would rather find out what he wanted now than wonder later.
“Pardon me,” the man called out, “are you traveling on foot to the Imperial City?”
Jerric stopped close enough that they wouldn’t share their business with the entire town. “The Imperial City is a long way to walk on your own,” he said. “There’s a caravan leaving on Morndas.”
“I can’t wait that long. I have pressing business, and I need to leave immediately.” His eyes darted back over Jerric’s shoulder to the gate.
Jerric noted the man’s pack sitting on the road. He had a bedroll. “Are you planning to camp out? There are inns along most of the way.”
“Inns, camping, whatever it takes. I want protection. I’ll pay you.” The man’s face was taut with nerves.
Jerric was not surprised to receive such an offer. He knew that armed and armored he looked dangerous, but not the sort who might leave you in a pool of blood for what’s in your pockets. “I’ll walk with you as far as Skingrad, as long as you don’t plan on doing any evil,” he said. “Glad for the company. I’m meeting up with a caravan there and going on to the Imperial City. You should join up. I’ll put in a good word for you.” Jerric smiled at the man, hoping to put him at ease.
“Fine, fine,” said the man, and he named a price.
Jerric agreed. He put out his hand. “I’m Jerric. Pleased to meet you.”
The man gripped his forearm. “Velwyn Benirus. Let’s get moving.”
Velwyn and Jerric climbed the gold hills above Anvil in the warm light of afternoon. Puffy white clouds made towers in the sky. Jerric knew they foretold a coming storm. To their left the sea glittered away into a haze. If they turned they would see Anvil’s red rooftops bright in the sun where the land swelled out of the sea.
Benirus halted in the road. “What was that?” He jerked out his sword and stared at the bushes up ahead to the right, eyes wild.
Jerric stopped and scanned the area. “Careful, that’s no fly swatter.” He did not want to receive an errant slash from the twitchy Imperial. The sun felt hot on his neck. A breeze tickled his sweaty forehead. He could hear the lazy buzz of a hundred insects in the tall grass. No bird sounds, though.
The bushes shook. Jerric crouched and dropped his packs on the road. He slipped his shield over his arm and motioned for Velwyn to stay back.
Now, what is this? He thought of the dead horse they had passed. It had been torn by a large animal. Anticipation prickled over his skin. He moved up the left side of the road and turned, putting the sun over his shoulder. He watched the bushes.
Berry bushes. Could be some youngsters out gathering berries. Maybe there was a berry pie in his near future.
Velwyn drifted up the middle of the road a few paces. He moved softly for a man who appeared to be rigid with fear. Jerric caught his eye, and Velwyn opened his mouth to speak. He froze with his mouth open as a massive wolf stepped calmly out of the bushes.
Jerric hoped the wolf would move along. Most would not attack two armed men in broad daylight, but things were not always what they seemed. An animal may be under a curse or mage’s spell. If it attacked he would block the fangs with his shield and stab into its side behind its shoulder, he decided. He imagined his timing and thought through the block and strike while he slowly drew his sword.
The wolf ambled out onto the road. Its head and tail were relaxed. It halted and swung its great head around at Jerric, then back at Velwyn, sniffing.
Jerric swore silently. There was smoked boar in his pack, and his pack was behind Benirus. He clanged the pommel of his sword against his shield and shouted at the wolf. “Push off, you fetcher! Go on, get out of here!” He spread his arms out and moved back toward Velwyn, hoping the man would get out of the way. The wolf probably weighed more than the Imperial, and those teeth would go right through his clothing.
The wolf focused on Jerric. It laid back its ears and snarled. This one was not just going to wander away. Jerric danced on the balls of his feet, ready to move.
All right, then. “Come on!” he shouted at the wolf.
The wolf dashed toward Jerric. He saw the light gleam on its fangs and turn its gray fur to silver. Flecks of saliva flew from its jaws. Jerric drew in a breath.
A strange battle cry split the air. Velwyn Benirus flew screaming at the wolf, sword raised like an axe. His blade came down on the wolf’s neck between the skull and the shoulder hump. It stuck there. The wolf’s momentum carried it forward until it crashed to the ground at Jerric’s feet.
Jerric stared at Velwyn, astounded. Then he threw back his head and let his tension go in a howl of laughter. “Benirus Beast-Slayer!” he cried, saluting with his still bright blade.
Velwyn drew in a gasping breath. His eyes were as round as an owl’s. “I’m alive,” he whispered.
Jerric waited for Velwyn to retrieve his sword, then he dragged the wolf to the side of the road. He looked down at it with regret. It looked like an enormous dog stretched out in the sun to sleep, apart from the wound in its neck.
The breeze picked up. They still had a long way to climb. “Let’s get off this hill,” Jerric said. “You won’t believe the lightning they get around here.”
___
Jerric stepped into the Brina Cross Inn out of the rain. He was glad he had tucked his armor into its pack before he made his brief sweep through town. He had passed through Brina’s Crossing so many times and always wanted to stop and explore it. Now he wished he had more time, again.
He dropped his packs by the wall and looked for Velwyn. The man sat alone in front of an empty plate, nursing a goblet of wine and looking irritable. Jerric asked the innkeeper what Velwyn was drinking. He purchased a bottle and ordered dinner before he joined Velwyn at the table.
“I got us rooms. You owe me thirty Septims,” said Velwyn.
“Hail, Benirus,” said Jerric, ignoring the brusque greeting. “What a fine evening. Do you think it’s going to rain?” Jerric filled his goblet and topped up Velwyn’s. He raised his wine. “To Brina’s Crossing and the gentle folk who dwell here.” He sipped. Jerric was amazed.
All those Bretons aren’t wrong. Wine is delicious!Velwyn stared into his goblet looking morose. He did not seem to enjoy Jerric’s humor.
Jerric got an idea. “We should eat here, then find a brothel. That will cheer you.”
Velwyn took a sip of wine and glared across the table. “Do I look like a man who has to pay for female company?” he demanded.
“Of course not. You’re not paying to get into her bed, you’re paying to get back out of it.” Jerric leaned forward to share his wisdom with the older man, but a preemptory gesture from the publican caught his eye. His meal was ready.
Jerric moved to the counter and took his plate from Christophe Marane. Roast loin of boar in a blackberry sauce with caramelized onions and roast potatoes. The aroma made his knees weak. He smiled his appreciation at Christophe and turned.
A short, attractive Imperial woman stood before him, blocking his way. She wore a dark red velvet gown, an elaborate gold necklace, and a haughty expression. “I am Rutila Harsinia,” she announced. “Daughter of Ontarius Harsinia.” She had hard eyes and, he guessed, high expectations. He had no idea who she was, but she was clearly waiting for recognition.
Jerric stood there holding his plate. The roast meat lay in thick slices swimming in a pool of purple sauce, full of tender, fragrant promise. The onions gleamed in the inn’s light, and the golden potatoes begged for his attention. He dragged his eyes back to the woman. “I’m Jerric. Pleased to meet you.”
Rutila raised an eyebrow. She made a small motion with her head, over her shoulder. “Who is your friend?”
Jerric experienced a moment of clarity. He strained to keep the grin off his face as he placed his plate back on the counter in order to address Rutila more properly. “That gentleman is no other than Velwyn Benirus, of the Imperial City Benirus…es. I would be proud to call him friend. He conducts his business there, as well as in Anvil. He has recently settled a large family estate.”
Rutila listened with increasing interest. Jerric struck a pose and continued. “A man with such commanding presence draws attention wherever he goes. I travel with him as his guard. Velwyn Benirus is a man of virtue and property. A man of maturity and means. A man,” Jerric sighed, “without a wife.” He looked down at Rutila. “May I introduce you?”
___
Jerric soaked up the last of the egg with his final bite of toasted bread, giving silent thanks to the unknown bird that had provided it. He crunched through another rasher of fatback, then pushed his plate away and sighed, for the moment content.
Perhaps another cup of kahve. Christophe was in a foul temper this morning.
Better let this breakfast settle before I ask for more.His thoughts were interrupted when Velwyn slid into the chair across from him. The man looked haggard. He wore yesterday’s clothes.
“Sleep well, Benirus?” Jerric leaned back and grinned.
Velwyn groaned and attempted to smooth his hair with his hands. “Kahve,” he whispered, shooting a glance over his shoulder.
Jerric took the opportunity to fill his own cup as well. He returned to the table and awaited Velwyn’s report.
Velwyn took a deep pull from his mug. He looked up and met Jerric’s gaze. “That woman,” he said, “is insatiable.”
“I don’t know what ‘insatiable’ means. How long did it take you to get her to leave?”
Velwyn dropped his face into his hands.
Jerric brows shot upward. “She’s still in your room?”
Velwyn nodded.
Jerric thought for a moment. The possibilities were entertaining, but the road beckoned.
“Here’s the plan,” Jerric said. “Go order breakfast, then head up and put your pack by the door. I’ll bring up the food and grab your pack while you’re serving her. Tell her you have instructions for me. Then come down here and instruct me that we’re leaving. Don’t let her get back into your drawers if you can manage it.”
Velwyn stared.
Jerric snorted. “‘Serving’ her,” he repeated.
Velwyn did not look amused. “That’s the whole plan?”
“Yeah. I’m not a strategist. Say, you should ask Rutila if she has a better idea.”
Velwyn downed his kahve and headed toward Christophe.
“We’ll have to move like a Kahjiit who’s dipped his tail in the fire,” Jerric added. “She knows which way you’re headed.”
.
This post has been edited by Grits: Jul 24 2014, 09:27 PM