Cardonaccum, The beauty of a thistle. Options

[jack cloudy]

I'm not caught up till the end, but I just wanted to say that this story drew my attention. I don't know what it is, the castlelife, the elaborate social network, the focus on duty and such simple necessities as food or simply the fact that the main character is not an adventurer.

[ghastley]

And haggis.
So she is going to torture them after all!

Without 'neeps or whisky, perhaps it is. Does bergamot tea even come close?

So it's 2E853, but we're still not sure quite where - Talos still has his voice, and Cuhlecain lives. At this point in history, the alliance between the Nords (Wallace and his kin) and the Bretons (Cora and hers) is unraveling. One wonders if Wallace was trying to shore that up, and if Talos is aware of the opportunity to divide and conquer.

[Acadian]

General Talos! Oh my!

There’s a lot going on here as Cora tries to deal with it all, then determines her priorities and sets them in motion.

Throughout this scene, she displays more ‘rulership’ than she most likely realizes.

Frankly, it sounds like General Talos, a foe, is more trustworthy than the supposed ally, Sir Broc. . . .

[King Coin]

It sounds if the wait may be over soon. I expect grim news.

Wow, I am surprised Wallace’s body returned.

And who is this, bringing her husband’s horse back? Talos!

Wouldn’t that have been an odd twist if she had lost her temper and had Talos killed on the steps there.

[Grits]

General Talos?! Oh my gosh!

“And haggis. We’ll see if they have the stomach for real food!”
Stomach!

General Talos must be well-informed about Cora to place himself in her hands, and he must be pretty confident about his proposal to risk it. I look forward to learning more. And hopefully Lord Wallace won’t lie in state for a week before the funeral, leaving Talos and his men at the mercy of Machara!

[Kazaera]

Oooh! This is very interesting - I definitely wasn't expecting the mysterious man from Cora's nightmares to be Talos! I'm also guessing he has a proposition along the lines of "support me and I won't attack you" and Cora will get talked into it because of it being her duty to protect her people, but I'm very interested as to the details here... especially because like Grits, I think Talos must be pretty confident as to how things will turn out to risk this.

Also, I have to defend Scottish cuisine for a moment - I actually like haggis! The taste is mostly seasoning (it's quite spicy, I think there's a lot of pepper involved) and the texture is mostly from the oatmeal, so it's easy to eat without needing to think about what exactly is in it . Of course, I don't know how Cardonaccum haggis compares to the modern Scottish variety... except that I'm relatively sure it doesn't come on pizza.

[haute ecole rider]

@SubRosa: Thanks for your vote on my choice of 'thistlemen.' Your summation of the situation facing both Talos and Cora is pretty much spot on. Which way will Cora go? You'll see in upcoming chapters! I had to laugh at your comment about a certain Scottish dish being an instrument of torture!

@SkyGuy: Thank you for picking up on the return of her stammer! Yes, it revealed the strength of her emotion in that moment, and how hard-earned her self-control in that scene is. And Talos isn't quite as alone, or as defenseless, as he seems. I've always seen him as a master strategist as well as tactician, and hope to show that aspect of his character in this story.

@Mr. Cumulus: Hi jack! *waves* Welcome to my story! Thanks for your kind words - I'm glad you're enjoying my poor attempt at world-building. My characters have all kinds of adventures, but I doubt any of them is an adventurer! I will try to keep this interesting in terms of the world we find Cardonaccum in.

@ghastley: Your take on the geopolitics in this story is interesting, and not that far off my own vision. I'm not following the Lore all that closely (if Beth isn't, why should I? - point to Destri Melarg for that comment), but I am keeping to the major events of the timeline. So yes, Talos still has his voice, though I'm not sure which version I'm going to go with, the official Imperial version or the Arcturan Heresy version. I'm still playing that one out. And I doubt bergamot tea will help alleviate the impact of the haggis.

@Acadian: My paladin! I think you will find your comparison of Talos vs. Broc to be spot on as the story progresses. And yes, we see more of Cora as a leader than she herself realizes. She will always doubt her own abilities, long after everyone else has accepted her as the ruler of Cardonaccum.

@KC: Odd twist of fate, indeed! But Cora has not been quick to kill, and isn't about to start now. She is intrigued enough by this Colovian general's sudden appearance on her doorstep (literally) that she wants to hear what he has to say.

@Grits: I had to laugh out loud at your detection of the (unintended) pun Machara made at the end of the last chapter! Stomach indeed! Just how well-informed is General Talos? We will see when he makes his proposal to Cora. And no, Lord Wallace won't lie in state for any length of time, as we will see.

@Kazaera: Yes, General Talos is supremely confident in the ultimate success of his endeavor to take such a risk as this. He sure knows how to go for maximum impact, that's for sure! As for haggis, I didn't put that in as a means of torture as SubRosa implied, but as a nod to the culture that is the inspiration for Cardonaccum. The name of the place is Latin for 'the place where thistles grow,' and as many of us know, the humble thistle is the national emblem for Scotland, a country I find to be very interesting and fascinating (right alongside Wales). Someday when I visit Scotland, I will have to try haggis. But not on pizza, thank you very much.

The story so far: General Talos has returned Nightshade, Thistlethorn and Cirsium to Lord Wallace's widow, along with a proposal. Cora has her priorities straight, and has imprisoned Talos and his party in the salt cellar for now, while she tends to more important duties.

*******************
Chapter Five

Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies,
Now gay with the broad setting sun;
Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties,
Our race of existence is run!
Thou grim King of Terrors; thou Life's gloomy foe!
Go, frighten the coward and slave;
Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but know
No terrors hast thou to the brave!

Thou strik'st the dull peasant—he sinks in the dark,
Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name;
Thou strik'st the young hero—a glorious mark;
He falls in the blaze of his fame!
In the field of proud honor—our swords in our hands,
Our Lord and our land to save;
While victory shines on Life's last ebbing sands,—
O! who would not die with the brave!

The voices of the soldiers died down as the last notes of the clarsach faded away over the high moor. I stood next to the bier, my head held high. The grey clouds overhead scudded before the north wind. They reminded me of Wallace’s eyes, the eyes I would never look into again. Against the western horizon, a sliver of red sun cast blood on a straight path from the sea across the heather.

At the head of the bier, Onchu droned on, his shoulders hunched against the wind. I listened to Arkay’s funeral lesson with one ear, my face frozen into stone. Exhaustion weighed my bones until I wanted to sink into the ground. But the watchful eyes of the castle folk kept my back straight.

I had spent the night with Wallace, unable to sleep. Without his presence to keep them at bay, I feared to face my nightmares alone. After I had washed his body and wrapped him in winding cloths, leaving only his lean, handsome face exposed, I had sat beside him in the chapel through the dark, lonely hours of the night.

When the day arrived, grey and overcast yet again, I began giving my orders for the preparation of Wallace’s funeral rites. Onchu and Laird had objected to the particular form, but Robert Whitearm surprised me by his unwavering support.

“But milady, that’s not how we farewell our lords here!” Laird rose from the pew and gestured broadly with both hands. I remained in my seat beside Wallace’s still form and watched him. “Lord Wallace’s father lies in the castle graveyard, as does his father and his father before him, so on since the founding of the clan!”

“It is the way of Arkay,” Onchu added his protest. “We must return milord to the soil of his ancestors!”

“Wallace and I spoke of this many times,” I kept my voice steady against my grief. “He has expressed his desire to me. Unless I bore him a heir, he did not wish to be buried here. As long as the line ends with him -“ I paused, momentarily overwhelmed by my inability to bear him a child, even a daughter, who could carry on after him. “As long as the line ends with him, he wishes the Nord funeral, not the Breton.” I bowed my head. “He made me promise him.”

“But it’s not right!” Laird shouted, slamming his hands on the back of the pew before him. “It’s not tradition!”

“It is for Skyrim!” Robert rose from his seat on the opposite side and strode to stand behind me. “And milady is right, it is what milord Wallace wanted. He would be buried only if she bore him a child. If he died without issue -“ He stopped a moment. Laird turned his face away from us, his gaze moving to Onchu in appeal. “If he died without issue,” Robert resumed, his voice rougher than before, “he wanted a proper Nord burial, after the ways of his mother’s people.” He laid a hand on my right shoulder. “I go to carry out milord’s wishes, as milady has spoken. Shall either of you get in my way?”

Onchu regarded us silently, then shook his head. Laird scowled at us. “If you do not bury Wallace alongside his ancestors, how can he guard Cardonaccum?”

“He told me if he died the last of his line, it was time for someone else to guard the good folk here,” I answered his question.

“Who?” Laird challenged, tossing his flaxen hair back from his high forehead.

“We will see,” I answered wearily. Robert squeezed my shoulder and stepped away. I closed my eyes as he strode down the center aisle, past Laird and Onchu, toward the corridor leading to the main hall of the donjon. After a moment, Laird bowed curtly to me and departed after Robert.

Onchu moved to stand before me. “You are aware that following the Nord way will only upset the balance of things at Cardonaccum?”

I met his gaze. “The balance of things is a myth,” I said bitterly. “Why would a good man like my husband die, and leave behind a barren wife with no child to take his place? Doesn’t that unbalance things? Does it also mean that Arkay is absent in Skyrim?”

The priest regarded me with some surprise. “I am sorry to hear you speak such blasphemy,” he said finally. “I had counted you among the faithful.”

“Do you mean the naïve?” I shook my head. “You forget where I came from.” Onchu flinched from my steady gaze.

The priest’s voice trailed away. I looked down at Wallace’s visage, the bones jutting beneath the pale skin. Resting Thistlethorn against my hip, I reached down and laid my left palm over his chest in vain hope. There was nothing - the empty husk of his body lacked the strong vitality of the man I had known and loved for the past ten years.

Robert stepped to my side, Jannet just beyond him. The aged Breton carried an unlit torch. Her grim eyes met mine. When I nodded, she touched her finger to the torch head. A spark flared, then caught in the pitch-coated wood. Silently, flames dancing in unshed tears, she handed the torch to me.

I turned Thistlethorn over to Robert, then shoved the head of the torch into the pyre beneath Wallace’s bier. Constructed according to Nord practices, the neatly stacked wood caught immediately. As the flames crackled and spread, I watched Wallace through the heat-shimmer. His face remained empty, his chest did not move with breath.

Soon the fire engulfed his form, the winding-sheets turning black. A sudden fit of regret ran through me, and I moved toward the blaze. Robert’s large hand on my arm stopped me. I stood frozen, my heart consumed by those flames along with Wallace’s flesh.

The sun disappeared beyond the western sea, and with it the last of my hard-fought reserve. Grief slammed into my chest and stole my breath away. I fell to my knees beside the pyre, unheedful of the intense heat and the sparks flaring upwards. Jannet and Robert remained beside me as I watched the fire consume the last of milord Wallace.

Wracking sobs tore apart my flesh while his turned to ash. When the fire died down, fed only by embers, I could only weep. Lightning tore apart the night sky, and cold rain followed. The ground beneath me rapidly turned to mud. Yet Wallace’s pyre continued to burn sullenly, consuming the last of the wood and the flesh.

“Come, milady,” Jannet bent down to me. “It is done. Come inside, out of the rain.” When I resisted, Robert reached down and pulled me to my feet. Unable to stand against his quiet strength, I turned away and stumbled back to the castle.

The castle folk stood with bowed heads. As I passed them, they murmured their sorrows and sympathies to me. After them stood the crofters. Most of them said nothing, only stared at the northern horizon beyond Wallace’s funeral pyre.

Finally I reached the massed soldiers, the survivors of the battle that had killed Wallace. It was these men, wounded and whole, who had sung the dirge in his honor. I stopped and gazed at them, meeting each soldier’s eyes in turn. Many of them avoided my gaze, but I could see the grief that matched mine in each face. They followed Wallace into battle. Each man is responsible for his lord’s welfare. If Wallace died in spite of their loyalty, their bravery, what do they feel tonight?

I straightened up from Jannet’s supporting shoulder. “When our men leave for war,” the words came unbidden, “we wait and wonder if they will return. Sometimes they do, and sometimes they don’t. The ones that return can only honor the ones that don’t. That is all you can do for our lord. That is enough for me.”

Their leader, a seasoned veteran of border clashes, met my gaze. Then he slammed his left fist against his breastplate and bowed his head. “Milord Wallace!” His voice rang clear across the moor, echoed by the men ranged beyond him. “Milady Cora!” He didn’t lift his head, but held the salute. I blinked at the sentiment behind the salutation as his men followed suit without hesitation. They are making me Wallace’s successor? But I am not a Cardonaccum-born!

“Robert,” I turned to the castellan. “Please see to it these men have what they need.”

“Yes, milady,” Robert’s shaggy head nodded briefly. The soldiers parted in smart fashion to give me a clear path back to the donjon. As Jannet and I climbed the muddy path, I looked up to see a small clump of figures, spiked by the thistlemen’s halberds, standing outside the postern gate. I recognized the golden Dragon on Talos’s cuirass and glanced at Robert.

“He requested to witness Lord Wallace’s funeral,” the castellan answered my unspoken question, his voice barely audible above the rain. “I saw no reason to deny him.”

“And no reason to ask me first?” I kept my tone level as we continued upwards.

“I didn’t want to disturb milady at her vigil,” Robert remained calm. “I made certain to set extra thistlemen on them.”

Talos bowed his dark head as we drew near. His companions followed suit. As they kept their poses, he lifted his face and met my gaze. “I hope the Lady will keep her promise.”

Robert growled, and Jannet muttered under her breath. I felt my own brows rise at Talos’s impertinent words. His face remained impassive as I stopped before him, looking up into those shadowed eyes. “Soon,” I answered.

“Very well.” He bowed again. “I should advise you that your time is limited, Lady.”

“What do you mean?” Robert stepped protectively between us. Talos did not take his gaze from mine.

“Merely that my Legions have their orders.” His tone matched his expression. His companions stiffened warily as Robert drew his immense bulk up.

“Are you threatening milady?” his growl was louder this time. I became aware of the soldiers behind us growing tense, their armor and weapons clinking in the darkness.

Without taking my eyes off Talos, I placed my hand on Robert’s arm. “No, he is not making any threats,” I said clearly enough for Wallace’s soldiers to hear. “Merely stating something he knows. Much like you, Robert, telling me it is raining and I should get inside before I catch bloodlung.” I gave Talos a smile I did not feel. “Thank you, General. I shall keep my promise. Just not tonight.”

Talos nodded slowly, the nod of a king to his vassal. I felt the muscles in my jaw clench at the implied insult. “Very well, Lady Cora. In the morning then.”

I kept the smile on my face, though I felt anger rising behind my gaze. “In the morning,” my voice matched the chill rain.

A/N: The dirge at the beginning of this chapter is "Song of Death," by the Scottish poet Robert Burns. This and many more can be found here.

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Jul 28 2013, 11:59 PM

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

This was so good, I don't know where to begin. Your ability to set a scene is fantastic. From the dirge at the beginning, to the argument about what type of funeral, to the funeral itself, was all riviting and powerful. As a reader, nothing is more satisfying than feeling those emotions along with the characters in the story.

When I nodded, she touched her finger to the torch head. A spark flared, then caught in the pitch-coated [censored]. Silently, flames dancing in unshed tears, she handed the torch to me. -- It is unfortunate that the site censor chewed out this word. In the context, I assume it started with an "f" and ended in a "t". But this is a minor thing when compared to the sheer quality of the read.

And we end with a not-so-veiled threat from Talos, which Cora handled very well in her new found position.

Looking forward to more...

This post has been edited by ThatSkyrimGuy: Jul 31 2013, 01:18 AM

[McBadgere]

Proper excellence!!...

I absolutely love Jennet and Robert, their actions throughout this story have been absolutely brilliant...

From the flashback to Cora's early days, to the comforting hug in this last episode, Jennet has been absolutely amazing to read...Put me in mind of Dame Eileen Atkins' character in Cranford...No, I don't have a link...Either her or Dame Maggie Smith...Or Granny Weatherwax... ...

Aaaamywho...I like Roberts, they're decent chaps...Always loyal and hardworking...Yes they are!!... ...

I love all the characters in this story...Even Broc the naughty!!...At least Cora has the wits - even in grief - to see what he's after...Naughty man!!...

Yes, the hint of Highland Scotland is there from the title and that may be colouring my feel of the thing (Also having spent many a holiday there may be helping somewhat)...Um...Yes, you say it's not specifically so, but you've painted it so well, it may as well be... ...So far, magic aside, there's not much to say it's not set near one of the lochs up there... ...

I'm loving this story so much I feel I have to apologise for it... ...

An absolute nice one!!...

And an hearty applause to boot!!...*Applauds most heartily*...See!!...





EDIT!!!!...How in the Gods' name did I miss the funeral one?... ...Amazing stuff...

I loved the argument about tradition and funerals...And that Cora was having none of it...*Applauds*...

Yes, Talos is pretty epic...

Amazing writing...Sorry I missed it earlier...I've no idea...*Shrug*....Sorry...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...



This post has been edited by McBadgere: Jul 30 2013, 06:02 AM

[Colonel Mustard]

So far, this has been an amazing read. I'm loving t, the characters and the way the plot is shaping up, especially Cora; she's an engaging and strong protagonist who's well developed even in just these few chapters and it makes the story an excellent read, and I'm genuinely intrigued and invested in what happens next. The setting feels well fleshed out and realistic (and the Scottish touches are nice to see), and it's very interesting indeed to see Talos of all people getting involved with this.

I'm hooked, and I'm looking forwards to more, especially to see what Talos has planned. Can't be anything good, I don't think...

[Acadian]

A fitting and well-described tribute to the fallen Wallace. Robert continues to show his mettle as a valued asset. Yes, Cora is right to place Wallace’s specific and spoken wishes above the castle’s traditions. It speaks highly of the castle’s returning forces that they willingly accept the rulership of Lady Cora.

The exchange with General Talos was ominous, hinting at the vast forces and power he no doubt wields.

[ghastley]

I was surprised to find that Wallace was a Nord at the head of a Breton clan, or at least one with Breton heritage. The matrilineal race thing in TES makes patriarchies's succession confusing, anyway. Since you'd already established Cora's smaller stature than her Nord retainers, I was expecting them all to be of that race and tradition. But there's no reason that they have to match, either. It works just as well this way.

Also interesting was the point that Wallace had no heir from two marriages, but Cora blames herself for this "failure".

Her recognition that Talos is just speaking plainly about his standing orders, and not making a threat, is telling too. She knows he's already set in motion things he might not be able to stop.

[SubRosa]

A very intriguing beginning, as we learn that Wallace was a Nord by birth thanks to his mother. I wonder if the Nordic Way is the classic viking funeral at sea? I suppose I shall see in a few more paragraphs.

I also noted your description of the sea being in the west. That surprised me. I had been thinking that Cardonaccum was in northern Cyrodiil. But that places it in western High Rock. No biggie though, just not what I expected.

It looks like Cora has the support of the surviving soldiers. That is a good sign. Now that Wallace is in his grave, I have been half-expecting the inevitable bid for power by someone, anyone, who thinks they would make a suitable Lord.

And finally General Talos shows the steel gauntlet under what has been so far his velvet glove. I have been expecting that too.

[Grits]

I particularly liked the exchange between Cora and Talos. She recognized that he was telling her something she needed to know, demonstrating judgment beyond Robert’s.

Talos nodded slowly, the nod of a king to his vassal. I felt the muscles in my jaw clench at the implied insult. “Very well, Lady Cora. In the morning then.”
Nice. I would expect General Talos to communicate that he was allowing the delay, despite his voluntary prisoner status. This is an interesting dance.

[haute ecole rider]

@SkyGuy: Thanks for catching that nit! I went back in and fixed it. I'm so glad you are enjoying this story as much as you are.

@McB: Never, ever apologize for loving a story so much that you feel you have to! I'm happy that this has become one of your guilty pleasures. May it continue to be so. Yes, I love Robert and Jannet - they're pretty awesome folks in their own right, and we will see more of that awesomeness in posts to come. I have kept Scotland (and some of Wales, too) firmly in my mind as I write this story, and I'm glad that you pick up on that. It's important to me that locals recognize their own homes or places they are very familiar with and not some stereotype image of the place.

@Official Condiment: How nice to see you here! I'm flattered that you think this story is worth reading, and that you are enjoying the characters so much. As for what Talos has planned, that will become apparent in upcoming posts, don't worry!

@Acadian: Thank you, for picking up on the soldiers' acceptance of Cora as the rightful successor to their fallen leader. As we will see, not everyone feels the same way. But Cora would have a much more difficult time holding on to her position and her place at Cardonaccum without the support of those soldiers.

@ghastley: According to the Lore, the Breton race is actually a mixture of Nedic, Altmer, and (in later years) the Nord races. I wanted to show that by the end of the Second Era we have a true melting pot in this corner of High Rock. The matrilineal race thing that is part of the game kind of drives me nuts, as it acknowledges no input from the fathers. I actually see Wallace as being from a Breton father and Nord mother, while Cora's father has a strong streak of Altmer in his makeup (which somehow skipped Cora herself, as did her mother's Nordic height). As for the issue of childbearing, in the old days, women were typically blamed for the absence of heirs, even when men are shooting blanks! So Cora is not alone in blaming herself here.

@SageRose: I think you are getting very close to the location of Cardonaccum. Yup, it's High Rock. Move up and a little bit right on the map and I think you have it! I have had a very difficult time finding a good map of High Rock that is as detailed as the one for Cyrodiil (or even Skyrim), so I had to fill in quite a few blanks here. As for the inevitable bid for power, you will see one soon!

@Grits: Interesting dance, indeed! It is flavored by Cora's having seen this same man in her nightmares for quite some time. I hope you continue to find this interesting as we progress.

The story so far: Wallace has been funerealed, and Talos has reminded Cora of her promise to hear him out. But can Cora find time for her grief yet?

*******************************************
Chapter Six

“Thank you, milady,” Rodric smiled hesitantly at me as I handed him the steaming goblet. “Larena has gone to fetch the boys from the bailey.”

“That’s all right,” I assured him. “I just stopped in to see how our healer is treating you. You are comfortable, I trust?”

He took a sip of the wine and nodded. His limbs appeared more normal, with the right arm and left leg straight once more and encased in splints. “Siné? Yes, she is good at her task.” He regarded me thoughtfully. “Is it true? Milord is burned, not buried?”

I sat down beside the bed. “It is what milord wanted,” I said. “I know it’s hard to believe, but -“

He stopped me with a head shake. “I know that’s what he wanted,” he stated flatly. “I wasn’t sure if you would do it, though -“ His voice trailed off. His eyes sought the deep red of the wine as he sighed. “Milord loved you, you know. He didn’t think it could happen a second time, especially after the way Lady Elspeth died.”

I turned my face away at the reminder of my predecessor. The woman had died fifteen years before I came to Wallace. However, when I first arrived at Cardonaccum, I could sense her presence everywhere I turned in this donjon. Her portrait still hung in Wallace’s study, though after a week it had disappeared. I never asked where it went, but I still remembered her appearance very well. She was beautiful, with a graceful neck and round shoulders shown off to good effect by golden curls piled high on the top of her head. I had doubted that Wallace would ever love me after having that ethereal vision for a wife.

Elspeth

“I’m sorry to remind you of her,” Rodric’s voice brought me back to the present. “And I believe most of us were unfairly comparing you to her when you first came. You’re so different, it was difficult not to.” He shifted clumsily to place the goblet on the table next to his right shoulder. “But my wife and I soon realized that there is no comparison.”

“Of course not,” I answered, smiling to put him at ease. “I’m not beautiful like Lady Elspeth was. I don’t sew or embroider as well as she did. I can’t sing or play the clarsach. I -“

“You understand politics,” Rodric interrupted me. “And you make difficult decisions on your own.” He smiled again at my surprise. “Milord told me how he found you reading one of his military books rather than Lady Elspeth’s romances. Your head is firmly rooted in Nirn, not up in the clouds after flights of fancy. And Robert respects your mind.” He shook his head. “And yesterday, when my wife was so frightened, you took care of me. And with your husband dead in the chapel, you still made sure I got the care I needed. You made sure the wounded that came in after us saw the healer. And you did the difficult work - tending milord’s body. I could see you were heartbroken, I can still see it.”

I looked down at my folded hands resting in my lap, blinking back the tears. Rodric laid his left hand over mine. “That’s just part of the reason milord loved you, Lady Cora.” His fingers tightened in comfort. “I want you to know this: I believe he came to love you more than he ever loved Lady Elspeth.”

I met Rodric’s gaze. He looked back at me, his round face honest. I managed to smile again. “Thank you, very much, Sir Rodric. It means a great deal to hear this from you.”

“I know it’s meager comfort, especially now,” Rodric said. “And I also want you to know that he told me and Sir Laird of his funeral wishes. I understand Sir Laird tried to talk you out of it.”

I stared at Rodric. Laird knew Wallace’s last wish, and tried to deny him? But I thought he was a man my husband trusted! I took a deep breath and nodded. “He did.”

“And you will regret that you didn’t listen to me or Onchu, milady,” Laird’s voice reached us from the doorway. I glanced over my shoulder to see the older knight shaking the rain off his cloak. Onchu stood behind him, dripping onto the stone floor. Laird’s blue gaze shifted to Rodric. “And how are you, old friend?”

“Better than when we arrived here,” Rodric answered. I caught the narrowing in his gaze as another person entered the room. It was Sir Broc. The young knight bowed to Rodric with a pleasant expression that reminded me of a spider sitting in the center of its web.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Laird declared, stepping to Rodric’s cot opposite me. “Milady, we need to talk.” He made a circling gesture that included all the men in the room. “It’s important for all of us, for Cardonaccum.”

I remained motionless against the sudden unease that moved through my body. Why do I feel like these men are ganging up on me? I glanced at Rodric, but his eyes were on the counterpane across his lap. “Very well, Sir Laird, what is it?”

“We have been loyal to Lord Wallace,” Laird began, clasping his hands behind his back and tossing back his leonine mane. I leaned back in the chair and turned my head to face him squarely, keeping my hands still in my lap. “He has never had reason to doubt our fealty.”

Robert entered the room and silently moved to stand behind me, facing the others across Rodric’s bed. Laird scowled at him, but did not protest his presence.

“Of course, he never did,” I spoke to distract him from the castellan and to bring him back to the conversation he had begun.

“Even now, we continue to be loyal to milord’s ideals,” Laird continued. “But now Cardonaccum is at a crossroads. With no heir to carry on after him,” his blue eyes conveyed that it was somehow my fault that ten years of marriage hadn’t brought forth a son. I didn’t disagree. “With no heir, we must make a decision about the future of this holding.” Now his haughty expression softened slightly. “There is little doubt in anyone’s mind that milord loved you, Lady Cora. It is also the general agreement that you have been an outstanding Lady for Cardonaccum. But a woman cannot command fighting men alone. She cannot defend a rich holding against the depredations of neighboring robber barons. She cannot take to the field in battle.”

I drew breath to protest, but Robert’s hand on my shoulder stopped me. Instead, I remained quiet, my eyes on Wallace’s oldest sworn knight. What about Alessia? my mind snapped tartly. Or Baroness Vaina of Lainlyn? I remembered to keep my face neutral.

Laird seemed vaguely disappointed by my lack of response. “No one is proposing to disown you as Lady of Cardonaccum, of course,” he continued, his tone gaining in fervor. “Rather, it is felt that you should remain in this position while one of us step forward as Lord of Cardonaccum and assume the responsibilities of defense and protection.” He bowed stiffly to me. “As the oldest and most senior in milord’s service, I bring years of experience and knowledge of the surrounding lands that will be most useful for this holding.”

“Ah, but Sir Laird would not rule so long,” now Broc stepped forward. “And of course the holding would pass to his sons, and so out of Wallace’s line. But I,” he laid a beringed hand on his chest, “am young, healthy, and plan to live a long life. Better yet, I am as yet unmarried,” now a predatory gleam passed through his dark eyes, “we could join together and raise heirs that will continue Wallace’s line.”

I suppressed the involuntary shiver at the thought of being Broc’s wife. “Milord’s line ended with him, not me,” I answered. Broc shook his head.

“I beg to differ, milady,” he countered. “Lord Wallace and I are distantly related.”

“But not enough to lay familial claim to Cardonaccum!” Laird growled. “You are related through the sire line, not the dam!”

“Isn’t it ironic,” I said quietly, effectively halting the brewing argument, “that traditionally women are not considered strong enough to lead soldiers in war, yet blood inheritance is passed down from the mother?” As the two knights gawped at me, I shifted my gaze to Onchu, standing in Laird’s shadow. “And what of you, priest of Arkay? What is your opinion?”

He stepped forward, his double chins waddling with each stride. He cast a challenging gaze at me. “Cardonaccum has thrived for so many generations because of its close observance to Arkay’s teachings. Balance has been observed for hundreds of years, Death for Life, Life for Death; Feast and Famine, Flowers and Thistles, Sheep and Wolves, so on through the centuries.” His beady eyes glittered in the candlelight as he lifted a hand in proclamation. “If we allow a barefoot Witch, an unbeliever, to succeed our most devout Lord Wallace, Cardonaccum shall be abandoned by Arkay, mark my words!” His chubby finger stabbed the shadows lining the ceiling.

So now he is my enemy? I felt my jaw tighten at his condemnation. Instead of validating his oration with a protest, I turned my gaze to Rodric. “And you, my good Sir Rodric?”

He struggled into an upright position. I leaned forward to set the pillows more comfortably at his back. He glared at Onchu, then turned his gaze to Robert, still at his post behind me. I noticed that he pointedly ignored his fellow knights. The knot of tension that had grown within me eased slightly. They don’t agree among themselves. Can I use that to advantage?

“I am not a very intelligent man,” he began somberly. “I am blessed with a strong arm and a loyal heart, with a lovely wife and three wonderful children. I lack the ambition the others possess,” now he sent them an unreadable glance. “But I have been fortunate to have had the opportunity to serve milord Wallace for the past thirty years. Not as long nor in as distinguished a manner as Sir Laird, true, but well enough to satisfy our lord.” He nodded at the elder knight. “And well enough for Lord Wallace to confide a few things in me.” Now he met my gaze. “Enough so that I believe you should follow your own counsel as to what is best for Cardonaccum.”

“Sir Rodric!” Laird snapped, but clamped his mouth shut when I glanced at him. I considered him, his words, his manner towards me. He’s always been deferential to Wallace, despite being older. Wallace held his unwavering respect all these years. What was it Wallace told me about Sir Laird? “I trust the man deeply and implicitly. I know he is intensely loyal to me. But I can’t say the same of his loyalty and respect toward my wife. His hidebound ways prevent him from seeing ladies as being better than housekeepers and broodmares.” He sighed. “If I should die first, don’t trust Sir Laird to support you in any role other than that of Lady or even a plainwoman.”

Now I regarded Broc. The youngest of the three knights, he was by far the handsomest. Yet there was an edge of insatiable hunger about him, a hint of cruelty that gave me unease whenever I had to spend time around him. It didn’t help that he had a disconcerting habit of making inappropriate advances toward me when he felt no one was looking. So far I had found it easy to fend him off - he had a great fear of Wallace’s power over him. But with my husband gone, who would protect me? “I tolerate Sir Broc only for his father’s and his younger brother’s sake. Once little Tywin is of age, I intend to displace Broc and knight the young boy in his place. Tywin takes after his father and would be a good man at my side, and at yours.” And I intend to carry out Wallace’s plan for Northside Manor, if I can.

And Sir Rodric, what he said about himself mirrored Wallace’s opinion of him. A good man to have backing you, much like Robert Whitearm, I told myself.

“Well?” Laird interrupted my thoughts. “Do you agree, milady?”

I took a deep breath. “What of you, Robert?”

“You already know where I stand, milady,” his gruff voice steadied my heart. I rose to my feet.

“It is getting late,” I locked gazes with Laird. “And Sir Rodric needs his rest. I shall consider what each of you have said, and give all of you my answer tomorrow.” After I meet with General Talos, a little voice whispered. I had learned to listen to that voice long ago. Though the thought of holding audience with the man of my nightmares frightened me, I had made a promise and I must keep it. “We will meet again here at noon.” I turned to Rodric and smiled at him. “I will find your wife and send her back in to you.”

[Kazaera]

Oh man. I was kind of expecting... something along these lines, but this is going further than I expected. Wallace's ashes are barely cold and already it's "you have girl cooties that make you unfit to rule!" I love that Cora thought of Alessia! And the fact that she didn't immediately start arguing but instead stayed quiet and let them dig themselves deeper let them say their piece says a lot about her personality, I think.

I like that you made them trace descent through the mother - I've actually been spending some thought on what Dunmer inheritance patterns and family lines might be like for Adryn, and am glad someone else has decided to explore options other than the patrilineal.

“Enough so that I believe you should follow your own counsel as to what is best for Cardonaccum.”

That single line would've been enough to make me fall in love with Rodric - would've been, if I hadn't already done so when he talked about all the things Cora had to recommend her over Elspeth. Perfect reassurance at such a hard time for Cora. I buy Laird as loyal, but a hidebound sexist who'd probably make sure he limited Cora's influence to the proper 'ladylike' spheres if she took him up on it, not out of malice but because he honestly thinks that's best. In the meantime, Broc just creeps me out and I'm getting very worried about what plans he's hatching... and what he'll do when they're thwarted.

I look forward to seeing what cat Talos will put among these pigeons...

This post has been edited by Kazaera: Aug 4 2013, 07:23 PM

[SubRosa]

Wow, Elspeth was a knock-out!

Sir Roderic's talk has both shed quite a bit of light upon the previous Lady of the Castle, and been a welcome boon to Cora's spirits. It was nice to have someone bluntly come out and say how she has kept Cardonaccum going during this crisis.

he also provides some disturbing information about Sir Laird. I wonder if he will be the one Cora has to worry about usurping power?

“Even now, we continue to be loyal to milord’s ideals,”
There is is. The alarm bells are going off at those very carefully chosen words.

What about Alessia?
I keep wondering about that too. The first empire was founded by a woman, but the only way a woman can become empress of Cyrodiil is when there is no penis near the throne.

Wow, just when I thought it could not get worse, Broc thoroughly creeped me out. Off with their heads I say!

yet blood inheritance is passed down from the mother?
I have always thought this should be the case in Tamriel, given that children are always the same race as the mother, not the father.

Like Kaz, I thought Cora was clever in not committing herself to anything just yet. Rather she drew out all of the knights and the priest and got them to lay their cards on the table. Now she knows who she can trust and who she cannot. Talos is going to complicate matters. But on the other hand, he might be just the thing to use against Laird and Broc as well. So long as one of them does not cut a deal with Talos first...

[Colonel Mustard]

The young knight bowed to Rodric with a pleasant expression that reminded me of a spider sitting in the center of its web.

The whole chapter was great, but this line...it made me happy.

This chapter was an absolutely riveting read, and I enjoyed seeing Cora trying to deal with those three; her decision to not yet play her hand and see if she could play them off against each other is a smart one, though I wouldn't be surprised if one of them (*Cough*SirBroc!*cough*) might try going behind her back with Talos.

And I'm intrigued to see what the general has to say, as well. With the amount of intrigue going around this looks like this has the potential to be as fun a Machiavelli-fest as Game of Thrones is, and I'll be fascinated to see how Cora navigates this maze.

[McBadgere]

*Applauds*...

Ye Gods I loved that...Politics...Sexism...Both complete idiocy personally...I'm with Sir Roderic here, I've got a strong arm and a clever wife...I stay out of that sort of thing...

Um...

Excellent story, I love it...I may have mentioned... ...

Like I said, even the most despicable characters are excellently realised...Onchu is particularly brilliant!!...

Looking forward to so much more...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[ghastley]

The knot of tension that had grown within me eased slightly. They don’t agree among themselves. Can I use that to advantage?

This tells me she knows what she's doing. And the fact that they all acknowledge the decision to be hers to make tells me something, too.

She'll talk to Talos before she speaks to them again, so she'll know what cards she holds.