Trey in Mournhold, Chapter 7 Options

[treydog]

As I felt the cool kiss of the marble floor against my forehead, my first thought was,

“That didn’t go very well.”

That was immediately followed by curiosity that I was still able to have any thoughts at all, considering that my head was separated from my body. As an experiment, I decided I would try to open my eyes. There was a certain savage glee in the thought of how much horror the sight would inflict on Helseth and his guards. Maybe I would even cross my eyes and stick out my tongue…. To my disappointment, Tienius Delitian looked somewhat concerned, but hardly horrified. Still more puzzling, he spoke to me, saying,

“Trey? Are you all right?”

I wondered if I had stumbled onto a secret cult of necromancers, people to whom speaking with the dead was an everyday occurrence. Finally, as I felt firm hands gripping my shoulders and raising me to a sitting position, I realized that I wasn’t dead after all. At least, not yet. The captain’s next words were reassuring,

“Probably got into some bad air beneath the Plaza. Give him some room and he’ll come around.”

Slowly, I pieced together what must have happened. The sight of Helseth had pushed my already strained nerves past the breaking point and I had fainted.

Of all the possible outcomes I had imagined for my first meeting with the king, collapsing in a heap had not been one of them. But at least that embarrassing lapse had saved me from the monumental stupidity of attacking him while he was surrounded by his guards. I had no doubt that my—vision? –dream? –hallucination? had been accurate. Whether it was a warning from my own wiser self or from some outside power I could not say. But I did know that a suicidal berserker charge against impossible odds was not the way I did things. If I was going to exact my vengeance, I would do so by using my strengths. As my head cleared, I was able to pay more attention to Tienius Delitian, who was saying,

“…sorry to hear that you reported to the Temple, but that isn’t important now. The king wishes to speak to you.”

So it was that I finally stood face-to-face with King Helseth, with no weapon in my hands and the fires of my fury banked- for the moment. When I did not bend my knee to him, the king arched an eyebrow, but made no comment. Growing tired of the silent staring contest, I prompted him:

“You wished to see me?”

I had reined in my anger, but that did not mean that I liked him, and I had no interest in pretending otherwise. He responded in the sort of cool, languid drawl that some of the upper class affected,

“Ah...so you're the one Tienius has been telling us about. You should have brought the information about these ‘fabricants’ to us directly. Still, you may be of use. We understand you had a slight inconvenience earlier. It appears we were given a bit of misinformation. The Queen Mother has spoken highly of you as well.”

Apparently, Tienius Delitian was not the only one in the court who enjoyed baiting people. It was hard to decide which I found more annoying- Helseth’s use of the plural pronoun to refer to himself or his dismissal of the attempt to have me killed as a “slight inconvenience.” I entertained myself by imagining that his royal “we” was actually a reflection of the fact that he was afflicted with a tapeworm, as well as considering all the “slight inconveniences” I would like to visit upon him. Ultimately, what allowed me to ignore his taunts was the realization that he was underestimating me. My fainting spell had combined with his natural arrogance so that he felt that I was no threat- or at least not a serious threat. Therefore, it was easy for me to give him a toothy, insincere smile in return for his haughty smirk, even as I murmured,

“…slight inconvenience?”

After all, why not give him sufficient rope with which to hang himself? He answered in a disinterested tone, as if remarking on the weather,

“We understand you were visited by some Dark Brotherhood assassins. A regrettable occurrence. They are a difficult lot, but they do have their usefulness. I'm certain that will no longer be a problem for you.”

My first impulse was to point out that all of the assassins who had come against me were dead and I was still standing- that, in fact, the attacks had been no more than an annoyance. But wisdom again prevailed as I reminded myself that I wanted Helseth to miscalculate. Let him believe that only luck had kept me alive so far; he would find out differently when I was ready. Hard experience had taught me that keeping my mouth shut rarely caused problems, whereas the opposite had landed me in hot water on innumerable occasions. Therefore, I simply maintained my bland smile and waited for Helseth to continue. He struck me as the sort of person who did not like silence; more, he seemed to enjoy the sound of his own voice. Sure enough, just as the lull in the conversation was about to become uncomfortable, he added,

“Yes, the Dark Brotherhood are usually a very effective group. Not always, though, I have recently learned. As to your particular situation, ...we have various sources throughout Vvardenfell that are paid well to provide us with information. Unfortunately, sometimes it proves to be incorrect. One of our informants had suggested that you could pose a threat to our monarchy. That cannot be allowed, as I'm sure you understand.”

When I heard that nonsensical justification, I very nearly betrayed my resolution to pretend ignorant disinterest. How could anyone seriously believe that a stable boy imprisoned for picking flowers could be a threat to a king? It appeared that everyone in Mournhold was insane, not just Almalexia. Struggling to keep a serious expression, I piously intoned,

“I find it hard to imagine why anyone would want to attack the rightful monarch.”

The irony, of course, went right past Helseth, and he pensively remarked,

“It is never easy for one to assume the throne, especially after the unfortunate set of circumstances that led to our beloved King Llethan's death. There are those who would seek to profit from such events, to take the opportunity to create unrest among the people. There are those, even, who would wish to see us dead.”

Widening my eyes as if such an idea had never occurred to me, I responded with a breathless,

“Really? How awful!”

Again, the king completely missed the sarcasm and responded seriously,

“Does this surprise you? Even now, there are those that would see our head on a pike. What better way to achieve one's goals than to have others remove those that would oppose you? Surely you have some understanding of this? In fact, we have recently been told of a plot against the throne. Some of my informants have learned of a possible assassination plot against our royal person. I would like more information on this. However, I do not want to compromise the safety of my guards or of my informant. I believe, however, you would be suitable for this matter.”

Finally, we were getting somewhere. Besides being a murderous little scut, Helseth had to be the most long-winded son-of-a-guar I had ever had to endure. Hoping to move him along, I asked,

“How may I serve?”

Reluctantly, the king at last made his request:

“I wish for you to meet an informant of mine at a local cornerclub, The Winged Guar. You'll find it in Godsreach. He's an orc, and shouldn't be hard to pick out. Find him, and ask him about his ‘uncle's farm.’ He'll know what it means. Then report back to me with your information.”

I nodded my understanding and agreement and left the Throne Room. All that secrecy and “protect my informant” babble made sense- if you were six years old and had the brains of a mudcrab. After all, someone plotting against the king would never think of posting lookouts to see who came and went from the Palace. And those lookouts would never think to follow a person who had just left the royal presence and see who said person met with. I knew that this was some kind of trick- what I could not decide was whether Helseth really believed I was stupid enough to fall for it.

My apologies for the sneaky cliff-hanger at the end of the last chapter- just couldn't resist. I have had that 'fantasy fight scene' floating around in my notebook for a month or two and finally got to the place where I could use it....

[The Metal Mallet]

My apologies for the sneaky cliff-hanger at the end of the last chapter- just couldn't resist.

Totally justified. It just makes your readers all the more eager to see the next installment. You're forgiven.

Again, nice little bits of humor throughout this post. Nice to see someone subtly mocking a King.

[DarkHunter]

The king of writing Trey, one again astounds his readers 5/5 !

[jack cloudy]

Phew, it was all a dream. I'm very relieved.
Heh, that king sure loves to talk and even seems to be a bit of a fool for not noticing anything of Trey's behaviour. But maybe he's just pretending. I've read a letter from a spy and Helseth seemed quite capable of performing in all the backstabbing, plotting and other shadowy stuff.

Good update as always.

And no, dear Helseth, I don't want to see your head on a pike. Vaporizing it with a big fireball is much more satisfying, especially cause you Dunmer are resisitant to fire so that means a really hot fireball has to be used.

[Wolfie]

That was cruel Trey. And I give you 10/10 for managing to completely screw with the mind of every reader

[treydog]

Before I rushed off to meet an Orc I had never seen before, I decided to talk to someone who might provide some insight into Helseth’s methods. Barenziah’s recommendation had made Plitinius Mero far friendlier, and he greeted me with his usual distracted air- I was beginning wonder how he ever got any writing done when all he seemed to do was pace about the courtyard. When I explained my latest task, the Imperial writer looked simultaneously confused and concerned, with neither expression boosting my confidence to any great degree. Resuming his pacing, he spoke thoughtfully:

“Heleseth has told you of a plot against his throne? Odd. He's well protected, you know. I would suggest meeting his informant and seeing what he has to say. If you have any further questions, please come and speak with me. If the Queen Mother has sent you to me, she must feel you are worthy. Good luck to you.”

That answer was interesting, although not terribly enlightening. It added to my doubts as to why the king would want someone he had tried to have murdered investigating a supposed plot against the throne. The only way to get any answers would be to meet with the mysterious informant and see what developed. I honestly didn’t expect trouble- it seemed more likely the code phrase would be used to mark me and the Orc would alert someone else to make a move in the street. Still, I doubted that Helseth was aware that I would be among friends in the Winged Guar. While they would never defy the king openly, I felt confident that they would not let anything happen to me inside the tavern, either. Just to make sure, when I entered the bar area, I stopped to speak with Ra’Tesh. Quietly placing a 50-drake piece on the counter, I asked,

“Seen any strangers lately?”

The Khajiit made the coin disappear and placed a glass of comberry juice in front of me. He was aware that I had decided to avoid alcohol after my last episode. As he gave me the drink, Ra’Tesh nodded toward an Orc who was seated at one of the tables.

“Came in a while ago. Hasn’t spoken to anyone except to order a meal and a drink. Quiet for an Orc- and he’s been working on the same drink for the last hour.”

I thanked my friend and carried my drink to the Orc’s table.

“Mind if I sit down?”

He grunted a barely polite acknowledgement and said, “Chair’s free- sit if you like. Makes no difference to me,” before turning his attention back to his food.

Waiting until no one else was in the vicinity, I said,

“So how are things on your uncle’s farm? Have you been there lately?”

His only reaction was a slight pause in his mechanical chewing, then he swallowed and replied coolly,
“I don't have an uncle...and I don't know you. Better not talk to you about that.”

That was the last answer I had expected. I took a quick glance around the tavern to make sure I didn’t have the wrong Orc. Since he was the only one in the room, it wasn’t that. I studied him closely- he had the air of relaxed watchfulness that I would expect from an agent of the king- he had to be the informant. If he was angling for a bribe, he was going to be disappointed; I figured the king had already paid him. I started to stand and said quietly,

“Sorry about that, friend. I’ll just trot on back to Helseth and tell him that you don’t know what I’m talking about, right? I’m sure he will be pleased no end to hear that. Enjoy your meal.”

Before I had gotten all the way out of my chair, he dropped his fork and whispered,

“Hey, settle down! I just had to make sure, all right? I get it. Code words. Whatever. My name’s Bakh. Here's what you should know. Our king is a paranoid. I know, I know...it's treason to even think that sort of stuff, but it's true. He always thinks someone is out to get him. The man's had me checking into a different conspiracy every week for the last month. I keep telling him, ‘You're king. You're gonna have enemies!’ Does he listen? Psssh. This time, though, there might be something to it. I've found some disturbing information.”

This character was almost as bad as Helseth when it came to dragging things out. He must have made a habit of secrecy for so long that he didn’t even know how to tell things straight any longer. When I said, “Disturbing? How?” he looked around and lowered his voice even further, then said,

“My sources tell me that there's a plot, but not against the king. From what I've been able to gather, there will be an attempt made on the Queen Mother's life. I'm not sure who would want to target her--from what I know, she has no enemies in Mournhold--but that's what my sources are telling me.”

I nearly sprayed him with berry juice in my surprise. A plot against the Queen Mother? That had to be the dumbest thing I had ever heard! Besides the fact that everybody loved her, Barenziah was a very dangerous person. Anyone foolish enough to attack her would get a very brief lesson in how she had managed to stay alive for so long. Of course, the attacker wouldn’t survive to benefit from that knowledge….

Regaining my composure, I thanked Bakh for his time and promised to take appropriate measures. Before bringing this crazy story to Helseth, I again decided to consult with Plitinius. He was the most likely to be aware if Barenziah had any enemies- and I believed he would tell me. The author’s reaction was as incredulous as mine. He looked shocked and sputtered,

“A plot against Barenziah? That's ridiculous! I can't think of anyone who would want to harm her.”

But then he frowned and placed a warning hand on my shoulder before continuing,

“Take care with this, Trey. King Helseth is a wary one, and delights in testing the loyalty of his new friends. I do not believe the King would hesitate to put his own mother in danger in order to do so.”

Whatever else was going on, I quickly realized that I was not cut out for this intrigue stuff. I was a straightforward fellow, even if my methods weren’t always strictly legal. If all this was for was to make me look like an idiot, what was the point? I couldn’t divine any reason that Helseth would send me on this fool’s errand, only to laugh me out of the throne room…. There had to be some deeper plot afoot here, one that I could not see. Of one thing I was certain- the Queen Mother was not the target. No, that privilege was all mine.

[jack cloudy]

Yay, first comment!

Heh, I loved that Orc. He's all: ,,Code words? Who the heck thought of those? They get more ridicuculous with each new job."

Trey is all stuck in the middle. To be honest, all that intrige is making my head spin. Tell him not to lose his confidence.

[The Metal Mallet]

I've always been skeptical of Helseth... of course, that's the point. I expect to see some justice coming up ahead. Good stuff as always.

[minque]

I was beginning wonder how he ever got any writing done when all he seemed to do was pace about the courtyard

Yessssss.........this made me somewhat laugh.....reminded me of myself, although I don´t pace about my courtyard, no I pace about everywhere else, especially at work! And I don´t get any writing done! At least not now!

But treydog does! And that is a sheer pleasure as always, the plot tightens, we don´t know who is friend or feind.....Barenziah? Helseth? Ah those charachters I´ve only read about in stories in-game, now Trey allows me to "meet them" in person! I´m eagerly waiting for the continuation, which of course will be as magnificent as always!

[Soulseeker3.0]

Wow... Sorry for not posting a reply but my time has been hard-pressed. Great job and i liked the cliff-hanger keep it up (as if you need anyone to tell you that)

--well cheers, I gotta get off and move around.

[doubleimage]

Beautifully written, as always

A joy to read this story. Long may it continue.

[treydog]

Plitinius had reinforced my grave doubts about the existence of a plot against the Queen Mother, but that did not really change anything. I was still going to have to report my “findings” to Helseth- even if I did believe it was a load of livestock byproduct. “Uncle’s farm” indeed. I entered the Throne Room and maintained a blank expression as I passed the information on to the king. He was equally expressionless, save for a strange glint I thought to see in his eyes. If I had not been paying close attention, I would have missed it. In serious tones, he replied,

“Yes...I expected you would find out as much. Other sources of mine indicate the same thing, and that the attempt will be made tomorrow night. Our mother must be protected at all costs, but I do not wish to tip my hand to these assassins. Here is how we will protect Barenziah.”

He paused and motioned me to a corner out of hearing of the guards. Lowering his voice still further, he continued,

“It would be unwise to station more guards outside her doors, as that would alert the killers to our knowledge. Better to catch them in the act. One of our royal guards could be involved in this attempt, so they will be kept occupied elsewhere. You will stay in the antechamber outside our mother's chambers tomorrow evening, and deal with these assassins when they arrive. Close the door behind you and hide behind the screens, so as not to alert them to your presence. Meantime, find out whatever else you can.”

With a short nod, I left him and walked carefully out into the Reception Area. It was only with great effort that I did not howl in frustration. Something was definitely afoot, something that was not designed with my best interests in mind, but I could not unravel the tangled plot. I did not trust Helseth as far as I could see him and knew in my bones that he was up to something. How interesting that he had “other sources” that not only knew of the assassination plot, but even the exact date. Still, if I could not compete with the king in the realm of palace intrigue, I might still thwart him by relying on my own strengths. He clearly had it in mind to incriminate or kill me in some clever fashion that would apparently leave him in the clear. Even if I could not see the trap in detail, I could discern its outlines and that would be enough. Sometimes, the worst thing that can happen to a man hunting a tiger is to find one…. And that was a lesson I hoped to teach the wretched king.

Thoughts of potentially deadly prey reminded me that there was at least one more person who might shed some light on this mystery- Barenziah herself. When I presented myself to the Queen Mother and explained my purpose, her reaction was as I had expected. With a laugh of disbelief, she said,

“Someone try to kill me? Ridiculous! Certainly I've made my share of enemies in my life, but those times are long forgotten. I suppose someone might think to use me to get to my son, but with the way this palace is guarded, if someone could reach me, they could just as easily reach Helseth. The whole idea seems ludicrous to me. But, if someone wishes to try...I've forgotten more about defending myself than most will ever learn....”

Even one as untutored in the arts of intrigue as I could deduce the real meaning behind her words- all of her enemies were forgotten because they were dead. Still, I had to press on as though I took all of this seriously, so I added that Helseth wished for me to stand guard during the critical interval. That pompous announcement earned the laugh it deserved, more scornful than the first. Regaining her composure, Barenziah replied,

“My son has sent you to protect me? Ha! Please, friend...I mean no disrespect. I'm not laughing at you, or at the seemingly noble sentiments my son exhibits. It just seems odd to me that any would want to have me killed. And my son knows as well as any that I can protect myself. Still, do as he has commanded you. He is the king, and it is best to concede to his wishes. Take care, my friend.”

I knew a dismissal when I heard one, so I took my leave and exited with as good a show of manners as my wounded pride would allow.

And now I found myself at loose ends, with no clear idea of what to do to fill the time. Normally, I would have retreated into potion-making, but I lacked the necessary ingredients and had no desire to seek more- my mind was too disordered in any event. Although patience was a virtue cultivated by the wise thief, mine had abandoned me. While I could have easily hidden in the shadows of a dark alley or waited amongst the chimneys of a mossy roof with no complaint, this interminable period before the trap would spring was unbearable. The only thing for it was to walk around the city with no particular destination in mind, wandering in a melancholy mood that threatened to become black depression. Physical activity is usually a wonderful thing for a troubled mind- a brisk walk can give one the feeling of doing something when there is nothing to be done. And all would have been well if I had not been in Mournhold, set square between two powerful and ruthless adversaries, both of whom had taken an interest in one particular distracted wanderer. In my absent-minded way, my traitorous feet took me to the last place I wished to be- the steps before the Temple of Almalexia.

[Kiln]

Man I'm really impressed by chapter seven thus far, Trey. The orc messenger, Trey's sarcasm even to the king, the "vision" of Trey's attack on the king, and the brief meeting with Berenziah were all incredibly well done and I enjoy the amount of description throughout your works very much.

The character's thoughts and confusions are expressed thoroughly throughout the chapter and really help to keep Trey "human" even after all that he's accomplished throughout his lifetime.

Keep up the amazing writing and I'll be looking forward to the next part.

[jack cloudy]

Ah, this intrigue is making me dizzy! Call me a barbarian if you like, but I bet I would have started throwing fireballs and lightning by now if I actually lived in the world of TES.

[The Metal Mallet]

Fantastic continuation of the story so far, Trey. I've been thoroughly enjoying it. Trey is such a believable character; his actions just seem proper to what's going on.

Hopefully taking out the assassins won't be too much trouble, then again, it looks like the Temple is going to throw him trouble again...

[canis216]

Excellent... I was aching for another post...

[treydog]

So deep was my distraction that I did not even realize where I was until a hard hand grasped my arm and a gruff Dunmer voice spoke:

“Breton. The steward wishes to see you. Now.”

The first Ordinator was joined by a second, who took my other arm. The pair propelled me up the steps and through the doors without bothering to let my feet touch the ground. Fedris Hler stood just inside and he gave me a brief glance before dismissing the Ordinators.

“So Trey,” he rasped in his dusty voice, “Nice of you to stop by. The blessed lady will speak with you immediately.”

Much as I disliked being manhandled and ordered about, I knew that I was in no position to protest or cause a disturbance. The most I could do was incline my head slightly to the steward and walk resolutely to the doors of the Inner Chapel, almost as if I had intended to do so all along. The thought of visiting Almalexia made me feel quite queasy, but I hoped that she might satisfy my curiosity regarding the fabricants. Perhaps she would reveal some knowledge of those strange creatures and confirm my suspicions about her involvement in their appearance.

As it turned out, the goddess said nothing about the attack on the Plaza, not even to the extent of asking any questions. Instead, she immediately pressed me for any knowledge I had gained regarding the End of Times cult and their beliefs. There was a shrill, hectic avidity in her questioning that worried me. It was almost as if she was obsessed with the misguided cult. However, those observations only came to me upon later reflection. At the time, I was so surprised by the inquiry that I answered rather more fully than I might have wished. I repeated the words of Eno Romari, describing the beliefs of the former priest and his followers. Almalexia’s already glowing eyes took on an even more fiery appearance and she muttered,

“They would dare...? So, the Tribunal has lost its power, has it? These fools would dare question Almalexia's power, here in her city! I will give them a lesson in power, Trey, and you will be my agent.”

This was going from bad to worse. Although I held no great affection for Eno Romari, I had even less for Almalexia. And the idea of being her “agent”…. As I frantically searched for a way out of this trap, the unhinged goddess continued,

“These fools must be reminded of the true power of a god. Since the attack on the city, much of my own power has been spent caring for my people. The number of wounded has been astronomical, and caring for them all has been taxing to even me. Still, I must demonstrate to these people what it is to mock the will of a god. You will travel to the ruins of Bamz-Amschend and activate the Karstangz-Bcharn.”

Here at last was a definite lie. I had been in the Plaza during the attack and knew that it had been beaten back before the fabricants reached the populated areas. Whatever expenditure of power had made the dark circles under Almalexia’s eyes, it had not been healing the wounded. Her last words were odd, bearing the harsh sound of the Dwemer language. Half to myself, I repeated them, misliking their taste on my lips, “Karstangz-Bcharn.” The goddess took my mumbling as a question and explained:

“Loosely translated: the Weather Witch. At its height, the Dwemer civilization was masterful in the use of machinery. In a time of drought, Dwemer scholars were commissioned to create a machine that would bring rain to their lands. They created the Karstangz-Bcharn. Its existence was little more than a myth until recently, when the ruins opened beneath my city. I wish for you to activate the machine, make it to create ashstorms in Mournhold. Then, these heretics will know the power of Almalexia!”

That pronouncement was followed by the hysterical laughter of a mad-woman, which stopped only when I incredulously exclaimed,

“Ashstorms- in Mournhold?”

Calming herself, Almalexia responded in a quiet, deadly serious voice:

“That's correct. While these storms may be common on the island of Vvardenfell, they do not occur here, so far removed from the Red Mountain. Now, though, they will, and these heretics will understand the power of the Tribunal. The power of Almalexia! Take this, and use it to activate the machine. You will have to divine its workings on your own, Trey, but I believe you are up to the task.”

With that, she produced a peculiar artifact of the Dwemer craft, seemingly out of thin air, and thrust it into my hands. Her eyes turned inward and I found myself out in the Reception Area, still clutching the Dwemer device. Long walks may be good for your health, but only if you pay attention to where your feet are taking you.

[The Metal Mallet]

Man, you make Almalexia's insanity so vivid! Fantastic!

Didn't I say there would be trouble if he walked to the Temple. Hate to say I told ya so...

[jack cloudy]

The power of the Tribunal? Sounds more like he's supposed to demonstrate the power of the Dwemer. Now what kind of goddess who insists on being a good girl wants to bring ashstorms in the city? It will be a slaughter! (Hey, Mournholders are no Ashlanders. They don't know what to do. It's even worse if there would be Blight involved.)

Wow, Almalexia has really lost it.

[mplantinga]

I enjoyed your description of Almalexia in this latest installment. It captured quite eloquently the growing madness that has driven her to abuse, rather than help, the people of "her" city. I will look forward to the inevitable introspections when Trey finally reaches the "weather witch."