Old Habits Die Hard Part Six, some old habits never die Options

[Grits]

The Watchmen within the gates clattered to attention as Camillus entered the City ahead of Martin Septim. The big Nord’s scarlet cloak swirled as he acknowledged their salutes and paused before the waiting Watch Captain.

Have I mentioned that I have SUCH a crush on Camillus? Maybe it’s the cloak!

Calidia exchanged glances with Gwinas, whose visage crumbled in dismay. “There is only one suite such as you require, and it is -” she hesitated, her gaze on the Bosmer. I realized that Gwinas occupied the grandest room in the hotel. Somehow I wasn’t surprised. I turned to Baurus and Jauffre.

Gwinas! I could never have dreamed that Julian would find herself evicting him from his hotel suite, how fun to see him again! And what an excellent reminder of the long journey starting when they got his note from the Sponsor.

[Acadian]

Whew! They make it safely to the Tiber Septim. I’ll bet the crowds en route were nerve-wracking for the Dragonguard. I could almost feel the Blades and soldiers getting ‘squeezed’ from all sides.

‘Calidia laid a beringed hand on her bateau neckline and took a deep, slow breath. Then she stepped forward to the counter.’
This was delightfully written, natural as can be, and so easy to envision.

And there’s Gwinas again. Julian the diplomat talks him right out of his quarters – very smooth!

I liked that Julian introduced Gwinas to Martin, as it gave a beautiful opportunity for Martin to display how well he balances his almost-Emperorness with his wonderful humility.

[ghastley]

The part about Julian not wearing a helm had me wondering for a moment, but then it dawned on me that she's deliberately being a distraction here, and drawing some of the attention to herself. I hope she puts one on when things get more complicated later on.

... as a priest of Akatosh bestowing a blessing. a nice reminder of how Martin's positioning himself at the present, even as he's wearing the Amulet of Kings to prove his claim to the throne.

[SubRosa]

The Watchmen within the gates
I keep expecting Rorsarch or Nite Owl to turn up...

The Hero of Kvatch!
Oh poor Julian, having to deal with praise!

and I recognized Gwinas.
Gwinas is still around! Yay, he was so much fun before. Oh noes, he's being kicked out, albeit most graciously.

“In the beginning, I served him because Emperor Uriel asked it of me before he died,” I spoke softly into the silence between us. “Then I began serving him because I know,” I put my right hand over my heart, just above where the Dragon lived in my belly, “I know that this man is our salvation. He has the Dragonblood in him.”
He we see Julian finally put it all in words. It is quite a journey she - and Martin - have been through.

[McBadgere]

OOooh, niiiice... ...

Sorry, I seem to have gotten a tad late...

Loved all the various Blades slinking about in these episodes, really do like a good military feel to a story...

It's very cool that Martin's still humble enough to not lord the Emperor-ness of things over everyone...And that he's still got the same priestlyness he had in Kvatch...

Bosmer!!!...D'you know, I think the Bosmers are my fave race in Oblivion, I've decided...It's the voice...Always makes me laugh... ...

Took me a sec to remember Gwinias, but then with the mention of the books...all was cool... ...You really do have a way with the game characters...Brilliant stuff!!...

Looking forward to what comes next...

Love it!!..

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[haute ecole rider]

@Grits: I'm not surprised that you have a crush on this Nord. After all, there isn't that much difference between Jerric and Camillus in his younger days. I was happy to see Gwinas again at the Tiber Septim Hotel too. He is such a fun character to write in his own right.

@Acadian: That sentence you quote just materialized out of the keyboard. It is as if I hadn't left the story, and this forum, for so long. And I wanted to impart a certain sense of elegance to the proprietor of the most elegant hotel in all of the IC. I'm glad you liked it so much.

@ghastley: Actually Julian got out of the habit of wearing a helm when she was promoted to pilus prior all those years ago. It made it easier for her tironii to see her in the mass of steel and iron that can be the Legion melee line. She never got around to putting one back on when she was sneaking through the Deadlands - she hated how it cut her vision down so much. And Martin the priest is still very much in evidence, as it should. There has been a long relationship between Akatosh and the Emperors of Cyrodiil.

@Sage Rose: I was thinking of you as I wrote the "Watchmen at the Gates" line! I knew you would catch the reference. Maybe in a future installment? So Julian's explanation to Gwinas why she serves Martin Septim stood out for you? It did for me, and I got chills just writing that part. You're right, it's a significant reminder of how far the two of them have come in their journeys.

@McB: I love the Bosmer men in Oblivion - they are so much fun. "I'm so happy to see you I could burst!" is one of my favorite greetings from them. It always lifts my spirits.

The story so far: Julian, Martin Septim and the Dragonguard have finally made it to the hotel, where Julian has to evict Gwinas. She does so diplomatically, and he isn't offended but really very gracious about the whole situation. Now we see the return of another character, one that has been a minor one in this story but in the game world happens to be one of the most powerful persons in Cyrodiil.

*******************************
Chapter 33.6 Ocato Meets Martin Septim

“Then that’s settled,” Itius Hayn rose to his feet and picked up his massive claymore. “I’ll go out and set up the Watch rotation.”

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Baurus shook hands with the Watch Captain. “It helps to have you on our side.”

Hayn nodded curtly as he slid the blade into its clip at his back. “Aye, I know you’re short-handed and all. So we shall work together and see the end of this Crisis!” He turned to Martin Septim, seated at the far side of the sitting room. “Sire!” his fist clanged against the burnished chestplate before he departed.

Captain Baurus turned to me. “Thanks for your help, Julian,” he said quietly. “Your knowledge of Legion protocol was indispensable.”

“It helps to be Legion to understand them,” I remarked. “They’re different from the Blades, that much is certain!”

Baurus smiled crookedly. “As I’m sure you found out!” I nodded my agreement.

A knock at the door drew our attention. Ertius moved to the panel, his hand on his hilt. “Who is it?”

“High Chancellor Ocato comes!” came the return shout, muted by the thick oak. Ertius glanced back at us. At a nod from Brother Jauffre, Baurus motioned for the other Blade to open the door.

We stood at attention as a young Bosmer in Imperial Palace livery entered the room. Standing as tall as he could, he stepped smartly to the side and bowed deeply. High Chancellor Ocato appeared in the doorway and cast his gaze within the room. His eyes flickered as they met mine, then I bowed my head and clapped my fist to my breast.

“Hail, Julian of Anvil,” his voice drew my gaze upwards. “Did I not say we would meet again?”

“Yes, sir, you did,” I managed to find my voice. Ocato still inspired the same sense of awe as he had on our first meeting.

“And this time you bring hope - “ I saw his brown gaze move toward Martin Septim, standing beside the fire. “Real hope.” Those perceptive eyes shifted back to me. “And I understand your reticence the last time we met. Well done, Julian of Anvil. Would you please do the honors?”

“With pleasure,” I answered. As Baurus nodded his permission, I led Ocato to where Martin and Jauffre waited. The Grandmaster moved back to surrender his seat to the Altmer.

“Jauffre,” Ocato acknowledged the Breton’s presence. “It is good to see you so hale and hearty after all these years. Retirement certainly has agreed with you.”

Jauffre’s blue gaze twinkled. “I’ve not exactly been retired these last few months, High Chancellor,” he mock-grumbled. “Unfortunately I cannot say that things have sat well with you since Uriel’s death.”

Ocato’s gaze sharpened on Jauffre, who returned it blandly. Ocato smiled slightly and shook his head. “Perceptive as always, Jauffre,” he said finally. “No, it’s not been easy.” He turned back to Martin.

“Sire,” I spoke into the silence between the two men. “This is High Chancellor Ocato. Sir, this is Martin Septim, Emperor Uriel’s son.”

Ocato’s gaze fell upon the Amulet of Kings on Martin’s breast. With typical Altmer grace, he knelt before Martin. “Hail, Martin Septim, our next Emperor!” His greeting was echoed by the young page near the door. I glanced back to see the Bosmer also kneeling, his head bowed in submission.

“I am not yet Emperor,” Martin’s tone carried that note of command more easily. “But I am glad of your support, High Chancellor.” He waved Ocato to the seat opposite him. “Shall we sit?” He sat first.

“Thank you, Sire,” Ocato returned to his full height just long enough to sit in the other chair. “I received the message that you were coming just this morning,” he continued. “Camillus’s messenger spoke true when he said you wear the Amulet of Kings.” His own long fingers touched the Seal of Office at his own throat. “As High Chancellor to your father Uriel Septim the Seventh, I took the liberty of calling back the members of the Elder Council.”

“Thank you, High Chancellor,” Martin’s eyes brightened slightly. “Jauffre said you would closely observe protocol in these uncertain times.”

“We do not know of any other illegitimate children Uriel may have had, Sire,” Ocato responded. “It is essential that you light the Dragonfires, not only to end this Crisis, but also to prove that you are indeed the Dragonborn, the rightful heir to Uriel the Seventh.”

“I see that you are indeed sensitive to potential trouble from certain quarters,” Martin nodded. “It seems that you agree it is important to avoid any suspicion of impropriety.”

“The fact that you wear the Amulet of Kings,” Ocato gestured toward the large jewel resting on Martin’s breast, “is proof enough for me that you are indeed the Dragonborn. Yet, when it comes to the public, lighting the Dragonfires is more convincing. It is harder to fool onlookers with magic and illusion.”

Martin inclined his head in agreement. “Agreed. That is why I must not presume to act as Emperor until the Dragonfires are lit and I am officially recognized by the Elder Council as such.” He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “How long, do you think, before the others reach the Imperial City?”

“I expect most of the Cyrodiil Counts and Countesses will be present within the next day, Sire, though I imagine Carvain has much to do before she can leave Bruma?” Ocato lifted his brows in question. Martin nodded confirmation of his guess. “Iunius of Morrowind left a couple of days ago, I expect he has not yet reached the border. The other governors have been gone for weeks to a couple of months, they will take longer to return.” He took a deep breath. “I expect most of them will be back within three days of now.”

“Then we shall proceed on the fifteenth?” Martin asked. “That’s four days from now.”

“Yes, Sire,” Ocato responded. “I’ve already told them that we have a heir to the Ruby Throne.”

Jauffre shifted uneasily in his position behind Martin’s right shoulder. Ocato’s gaze shifted to the Breton. “Was that wise, High Chancellor?” The Grandmaster’s voice held a deceptive mildness.

“I’m certain you are aware of the unrest in certain provinces, Grandmaster, Sire,” Ocato responded smoothly. “Even when Uriel was alive, there have been grumblings and whispers of rebellion. Now with the future of Tamriel so uncertain, we will see who is truly dedicated to the idea of Empire and who will strike out on their own.” He shrugged. “Some of the governors will want to see Martin Septim for themselves before they decide which way they will leap, and others may decide to jump anyway. We will see who is here on the fifteenth.”

“Separate the wheat from the chaff?” Martin said after a moment’s silence. “Very well, I shall defer to your judgment for the time being. It is very wise, indeed.” Jauffre did not speak, though I could see an uneasy flicker in his blue eyes.

“If you will permit, Sire,” Ocato folded his hands before him. “I will continue to act as High Chancellor until you are confirmed Emperor and seated on the Ruby Throne. Then I shall be happy to step down should you wish to declare a new High Chancellor.”

Martin regarded the Altmer thoughtfully. “At the moment,” he said finally, “I would prefer to keep you close by. You know this Empire best, and understand the governors. I have need of your knowledge and experience, at least in the first months or even years.” His hazel gaze flickered, and for a moment I saw Uriel in his face. Ocato’s slow inhalation told me he had seen it, too. “My father trusted you for a reason,” Martin broke the spell. “I would be remiss if I did not accept his judgment until I have a chance to see for myself.”

For a few moments only the crackling of the fire in the sitting room hearth filled the air. Then Ocato took another deep breath. “Sire,” he spoke into the silence, “I have no doubt you are indeed Uriel’s son, more so than the three borne him by Empress Caula Voria.”

[Acadian]

What a rich episode! I thoroughly enjoyed your depiction of both Ocato and Martin here. In particular, I like that you emphasized how Uriel probably kept Ocato on as High Chancellor for good reason. Ocato is such an interesting character. He is clearly a master politician so, although his words may well be from his heart, I have no doubt is quite capable of masking any agenda he may (or may not) have.

The real icing here was briefly seeing a glimpse of Uriel in Martin’s words and gaze.

Jauffre seems to have a quiet point, and it is clear he is concerned about the delay. . . only time will tell.

[SubRosa]

Itius Hayn rose to his feet and picked up his massive claymore.
Uh oh, he's setting up anti-personnel mines! Just kidding If I can't have Nite Owl, at least there is high explosives!

“The fact that you wear the Amulet of Kings,” Ocato gestured toward the large jewel resting on Martin’s breast, “is proof enough for me that you are indeed the Dragonborn. Yet, when it comes to the public, lighting the Dragonfires is more convincing. It is harder to fool onlookers with magic and illusion.”
These are good points. I am sure you recall the Emperor Zero wearing a fake Amulet of Kings to try to pass himself off as Akatosh's chosen.

Yet even in spite of how rightful Martin's claim to the throne may be, we see that there are some who still have ideas of their own about who is going to be the next Emp. I am sure Titus Mede is not the only one.

I know according to the lore Black Marsh was the first to secede. Even when Uriel VII was alive, the Empire only had partial control over it, and only on the outside edges of the province. Then most of the other dominoes went falling afterward, Morrowind (thanks to Argonian invasion and a big rock), Elsweyr, Summerset, and finally Valenwood. I am looking forward to seeing how history plays out in the JF. If you indeed go that far beyond the end of the main quest.


nits:
“And this time you bring hope - “
It looks like your last quote got turned backwards. That is one reason I disabled smart quotes in Word. The straight ones look the same whether they are coming or going.

[ghastley]

I like the way the minor details of protocol are being observed here. for example
The Grandmaster moved back to surrender his seat to the Altmer.
and the whole sequence of Ocato encountering the "lesser" players such as Julian before reaching Martin. It just reinforces how Ocato's also playing this strictly by the rules to ensure there are no technicalities in the way.

That is also in his offer to step down once Martin is confirmed. Not immediately, because that would prejudge the decision of the council, but stated now, so that he makes his own position clear. The way Martin declines the offer is nicely judged, too. He's not yet in a decision-making position, so he doesn't. But he also indicates approval for Ocato, as far as he can.

[Grits]

I like the exchange between Ocato and Jauffre. The things that go unsaid really capture the imagination.

“We do not know of any other illegitimate children Uriel may have had, Sire,” Ocato responded. “It is essential that you light the Dragonfires, not only to end this Crisis, but also to prove that you are indeed the Dragonborn, the rightful heir to Uriel the Seventh.”

Perfect. I should think that the Elder Council has been conducting searches both individually and as a group. I’m sure Ocato means not only the Oblivion crisis but also the impending succession crisis.

I’ve enjoyed the politics behind this segment’s events.

[haute ecole rider]

@Acadian: I'm glad you enjoyed the scene between Ocato and Martin Septim. I always felt that Ocato is one of the most underutilized characters in the game for one with so much power. What kept him from taking the reins for himself and declaring himself Emperor? Why didn't he challenge Martin Septim himself? I wanted to show, or rather hint at, how complex this person has become for me. Like Count Indarys, he has an agenda, but his motives may or may not be all good or all bad. Rather, I see him as a mixture, and at the bottom of it all, a very pragmatic creature.

@Sage Rose: Thanks for the reference to high explosives! I had to laugh at your ongoing obsession with the Watchmen in OHDH. Someday I will make you happy! Someday! As for the reference to the Amulet of Kings, I always wondered why the ability to wear it without losing it was not the only criteria. Then it hit me - the heir has to light the Dragonfires before he can step up to the Ruby Throne. And yes, you're right, it's easy to switch a fake Amulet for the real one. Thanks for the review of the post TES IV politics and who seceded first. It will be useful in the post-OHDH era, though I won't be following TES V lore that closely.

@ghastley: Where is that twirl icon? The fact that you picked up on the subtle exchange between Jauffre and Ocato is delightful for this writer. I wanted to convey that while they aren't exactly friends, they have respect for each other (even when they are disagreeing rather vehemently, as I can see happening in the past when Uriel was alive). As for the offer to step down, this is just Ocato's way of taking his measure of the man that claims to be Uriel's heir. Martin's response is the same - he is sizing up Ocato's potential value in the months and years to come.

@Grits: I did want to mention that Uriel Septim was himself human, prone to the typical male desires. What man in his position wouldn't want to take advantage of willing females? Where does marital fidelity come in, especially if he detested the Empress? Theirs was a marriage of convenience, as I see it, and he needed to find his solace elsewhere. So why not a litter of illegitimate kids scattered across Tamriel? But only one carries the Dragonblood. Such is the vagaries of genetics! And yes, Ocato is already looking beyond the end of the Oblivion crisis. It's only natural for this far-sighted Altmer to plan far ahead into the future. Maybe it's this long-sighted perspective and the ability to foresee consequences that made him so valuable to Uriel, and ultimately, to Martin himself.

The story so far: Martin and Ocato have met and taken the measure of each other. Now we move ahead to the grand finale of this story, and that much closer to the end of this very long manuscript. Brace yourselves!

***********************************
Chapter 34.1 Arrival at the Imperial Palace

Martin Septim paused before the ornate doors, the two Palace Guard sentries eyeing him from the shadows within their helms. I saw his shoulders straighten slightly with the deep intake of breath, then he nodded slightly at the Guardsmen.

Smartly they stepped together and gripped the handles of the tall panels. With a crisp click, they twisted the elaborate handles and drew the doors back. With the portal now open, they snapped to attention on either side with a clashing of plate armor.

Just within the entrance, I could see two more sentries stand to attention just as noisily. Beyond, the gold and red sparkle of the Ruby Throne rose at the opposite side of an immense circular chamber. A large round table, its surface marked with inlaid diamonds of red marble, occupied the sunken center of the chamber between the Throne and the entrance. High-backed chairs surrounded the table, most of them occupied by nobles and officious-looking Imperials.

Moonlight fell in pale emerald streaks across the room from the tall windows set between the pilasters set into the walls. Magical light in ornate brass cages set high on the interior colonnade filled the shadows in between. From the supported balcony above whispers floated down with the motes of dust that swirled through the air.

In a swirl of purple silk and velvet, Martin Septim strode boldly into the hall as Chancellor Ocato rose to his full height and stepped away from his seat opposite the Throne. Martin stopped at the edge of the stairs leading down to the Council table while Ocato moved to stand on the bottom step. Baurus remained two steps behind Martin’s right shoulder, and Jauffre at his left. I stood back, between the columns of the arcade.

As the other Elders rose to their feet, Ocato placed his palms together in front of his chest and bowed to Martin. “Welcome, Martin Septim, to the Elder Council.”

“Thank you, Chancellor Ocato.” Once more I could hear Uriel’s command in Martin’s voice. For once it did not cause the usual twinge of grief. Emperor Uriel, I have carried out your request. I have brought your last son to the Elder Council. Once the Dragonfires are lit, the Jaws of Oblivion will be shut forever. Thank you for giving me a new purpose for living.

Ocato turned back to the table. “Elders of the Council, I would present to you the last living Septim son of Emperor Uriel, Martin Septim. You can see that he bears the Amulet of Kings upon his breast. This confirms that dragonblood runs in his veins. Do you challenge his right to light the Dragonfires?”

Countess Carvain stepped away from her seat, her spine straight and shoulders squared beneath her yellow silks. Head held high, her imperious gaze flickered around the table before settling on Martin Septim.

“Anyone who dares challenge Martin Septim’s right challenges Bruma!” Her mellifluous voice wielded command easily and reminded me why so many governors and rulers through the years held Imperial blood.

Other chairs scraped across the stone floor as Hassildor, Umbranox, and Valga moved from their seats with a rustling of silks and velvet to stand beside Carvain. The tall Count of Skingrad, standing behind the women, held his hands out to the side. “Colovia and the Gold Coast declares for Martin Septim.” His tone, though soft, held emphatic authority.

Clearly uncomfortable in his black brocaded cloth, Savlian Matius moved to stand before Martin. He threw his head back and met the Septim’s gaze, soldier to soldier. “Kvatch has long been your home, Sire.” the crisp diction of the seasoned warrior contrasted with the soft tones of the nobles. “I speak for the people - we will always be yours.”

I caught the uneasy look Caro sent Terentius and Indarys. The Bravilian Count slumped beside his seat, his gaze on the table in front of him. Resentment filled every line of the former Arena Champion’s frame. What upsets that man so much? The fact that Carvain has clearly rejected him yet again? The fact that she is clearly the better leader of her county than he is of his? Or the fact that the Inspector General is taking over his City Guard? Or just the fact that he has gone without his daily - vitamins - a little too long? I could see the slackness in his face and the tremors in his hands that suggested his cravings were becoming rather insistent.

On the other hand, Indarys caught Caro’s glance and returned it with a bland expression. Once again I wondered at the Cheydinhal Count. Does he know Leland is not Legion? Or does he care? Yet he did not hesitate to send a century to Bruma in support of the Countess. He’s the outsider here, not Matius. Is he still considering which way to jump? Morrowind is at his back, and Morrowind remains restive.

Indarys stepped forward. Though his tones lacked the Imperial propensity for authority, he still conveyed confidence and cunning. “Cheydinhal declares for Martin Septim,” he bowed elegantly, his palms pressed together before him.

Arch Mage Traven, his grey hair momentarily glinting green as he stepped through the streams of moonlight, rounded the table to stand beside Ocato. “The Mages Guild upholds the right of Martin Septim to light the Dragonfires and claim the Ruby Throne!” His pale eyes flickered to me, and I saw that left eyebrow twitch. My breath caught as I stifled the childish giggle at the memory that mannerism triggered.

The provincial governors shifted uneasily as Caro passed his glance around. Then the Redguard woman moved to stand beside Indarys. “On behalf of the great province of Hammerfell,” Khachsa’s voice held the fire of the Alik’r desert, “I do not challenge Martin Septim’s right to light the Dragonfires.”

“Nor do I,” Theodyn of High Rock folded his hands over the slight paunch that wrinkled his russet velvets. But neither of you are accepting his right, either, are you?

Silence fell over the chamber, broken only by mutterings in the gallery above. Caro glanced upward uneasily, then moved to stand near Hassildor. “I will not challenge Martin Septim,” his tones held only smoothness, the same calm smoothness I had become familiar with during my days in Leyawiin. I felt my teeth clench at the memory of my frustration with him. Always looking out for himself first. Leyawiin would be better off without him. Why did Valga marry her daughter off to him?

Ocato turned to look around the table, counting off the gathered nobles. “Any challenges?” No one answered, no one met his gaze or that of Martin Septim’s. “There are ten who accept Martin Septim’s right to light the Dragonfires, five who abstain and two who are absent.” He nodded at the scribe seated at the lectern off to one side. “Let the record show that the Elder Council has voted!”

I stifled my dismay at the lack of support from the provinces. As for Count Terentius, I rather expected his lack of vote. But no vote of confidence from so many provinces? And where are Skyrim and Summerset Isle? Are they planning to revolt? There is trouble ahead. Martin Septim has his work cut out for him. Momentarily I felt a twinge of concern for him, but a glance at those shoulders straight and wide beneath the imperial purple robes reassured me that he possessed the will of Tiber Septim himself.

“Thank you, Elders,” Martin Septim stepped forward and down two steps. “And High Chancellor Ocato, you have worked hard for the sake of the people of Tamriel. Now it is time to end this Crisis and restore peace --”

A loud crackle flashed through the windows, momentarily turning the emerald streaks to reddish white. The rolling boom that followed was all too familiar, and the windows darkened as if splashed with blood. The floor beneath our feet heaved momentarily, and screams dropped from the gallery above. However, nothing else fell, and no one lost their footing.

Martin’s head twisted to the side as he glanced up at the windows beneath the southern gallery. I could see the pale horror in the faces of Carvain, Hassildor and Matius before me. The others stared bemusedly around, but they had never experienced the opening of an Oblivion Gate for themselves.

Martin moved first. He turned and spoke to Jauffre, who spun and ran for the Palace Guards at the entrance. Baurus motioned for me to step into Jauffre’s place at Martin’s left shoulder as Ocato approached him.

“It’s another Oblivion Gate,” Martin spoke urgently yet quietly to the High Chancellor. “A Great Gate, by the sound of it.” Traven joined us, as did Matius, Hassildor and Carvain.

“I don’t think so,” I found myself shaking my head. “We heard nothing about three smaller Gates. Those have to open first before a Great Gate can. This is something new.”

Martin and Ocato eyed me thoughtfully, but Traven nodded his agreement. “We would have been warned of the smaller Gates. This one is big enough to shake the very foundations of the White Gold Tower. Didn’t you feel it?”

Shouting from outside drew our attention to the entrance, which had been shut and bolted. Now the doors swung open, and a Watchman staggered in, trailing alarmed Palace Guards in his wake. His iron armor was dented across the cuirass, streaked with soot and blood. His helm missing, we could clearly see the terror on the man’s face as he stopped before Chancellor Ocato. “High Chancellor!” Belatedly he turned and saluted Martin Septim, dark fluid splattering across the floor. “Sire!”

“Catch your breath, man!” Matius stepped up and gripped the panicked legionary’s pauldron. “Tell us what is happening!”

“Daedra!” The Watchman swayed heavily in spite of Matius’s support. Hassildor came up and caught the man’s other shoulder. “Swarming everywhere!”

“Where, man! Which quarter?” Matius demanded, shaking the man’s pauldron to gather his scattered wits.

“Temple - !” the soldier’s eyes rolled up into his head and he fell with a clatter of armor to the floor.

“Seal the Palace!” Ocato shouted as Traven knelt beside the unconscious Watchman. “Bring up the arms! Call for reinforcements!”

[SubRosa]

So Julian has delivered Martin to the Imperial Palace itself. As she mused, she has upheld the promise she made his father so long ago.

I liked seeing the various counts and countesses declaring their allegiances to Martin. So much was not said there than said. Especially those who declared that they did not oppose Martin's rule, rather than say that they supported it.

I am not surprised that so many provinces did not immediately throw in behind the new Emp however. Empires exist to exploit the regions that they conquer. When one looks at how only the East Empire Company has the legal right to export things like kwama, saltrice, ebony, glass, and every other thing that is unique about Morrowind from that province, it shows that the Cyrodiilic Empire is no different. Playing Oblivion, we do not really think about that, because we do not really see it. But when you play Morrowind you get an earful of it, like the news about a city that revolted because of the high Imperial taxes, or how the mine guards will tell you that if you touch one chunk or ebony or glass they will kill you, because that is the personal property of the Emperor.

Uh oh, its another Oblivion Gate. Now we come to the endgame at last.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jun 3 2013, 07:57 PM

[ghastley]

I liked the way the messenger's armor told part of the story of the battle he'd come from. Something the game can't do as easily.

Interesting that you have all the Counts present for the final battle, although I suspect they won't be going to the Temple District with Martin. I'm a bit surprised that Hassildor is out of Skingrad, and I note that you don't mention whether Umbranox is Corvus or Millona (or both?)

So Terentius has gone without his - vitamins - for too long. He should have a good panic when he understands that there might be a further delay!

[Grits]

It was interesting to see how the various officials responded to Ocato’s question.

Then wow, that Watchman made an entrance worthy of the occasion! Brace yourselves, indeed.

My favorite moment of this segment was Julian’s private thought to Uriel. Journeys ending, purpose filled, and life renewed, and then here comes a Gate!

[Captain Hammer]

Just got back to reading this. Been away, and happy to see this when I got back.

Julian's trip to the Imperial City, her stops on the way there, and her recuperation from her tasks at Cloud Ruler Temple, all have the hallmarks of somebody finally going home. I know, I know, Anvil is her home, but this story started with a Septim Emperor's trust in her, and most all of us know that it will end with a Septim Emperor's trust in her.

For now, all I can say is that the political machinations of these past two chapters, between the meeting with Ocato and the vote of the Elder Council, is amazingly well done and speaks to the deeper intrigues existing within Tamriellic politics. For a moment, you can see how the future of Martin's reign would be shaped by the circumstances of his accession, but then that moment of terrible timing comes and the gates open in the Imperial City. I'll leave off here till the next posts come, but I await the conclusion of this chapter of Julian's Old Habits and their refusal to die easy.

[Acadian]

Julian did a superb job of not only painting the scene and reporting what happened for us, but her private observations were full of insight into those within the council chamber and steeped in the history of her long journey.

It was especially nice to have Julian once again recount Uriel’s words to her. And, of course, great to see Savlian Matius representing his city of Kvatch.

I can imagine what this new form of large gate heralds. It was not lost on me that the Blades, Martin and Savlian sprang into action first – those united by blood and steel.

[haute ecole rider]

@Sage Rose: Yes, in the game there has been grumblings about the provinces and their restiveness. I just built on those rumors and will keep going from there. And yes, I wanted to show the political games being played in that Elder Council Chamber - they have been played for some time and will continue being played for some time yet to come. The endgame at last, indeed. It has been a long time coming.

@ghastley: I always felt that our imaginations should be good enough to fill in the blanks regarding what goes on behind the screen. When writing, I like to visualize my scenes as if I'm watching a movie, or better yet, as if I'm part of the scene. It's fun to put myself in my characters' places and see things the way they see and experience them. So the dented armor on the Watchman would be something an experienced Legion pilus like Julian would notice. And I think you will see who all goes to the battle with Martin and the Blades. As for Corvus versus Millona, remember Julian has only known Millona - we have not encountered Corvus in her story, nor has he been mentioned other than his mysterious disappearance so many years ago. Julian doesn't know where he is, and in view of Millona's competent rule, she really doesn't care.

@Grits: I'm glad that you liked Julian's recollection of her promise to Emperor Uriel. It has been the underlying drive throughout this story, and the main reason she even agreed to go to Kvatch to find that missing heir in the first place. Even as she has struggled to find her place in Tamriel, that promise has kept her going, has helped her survive the challenges that she faced throughout this story. It's only fitting that we would come full circle to that promise she made in the beginning.

@BamBam! Welcome back! I've missed you and your insight. Now where is Olen? Anyway I'm glad that you think Julian has found home. She has always lived her life with purpose, and when she was invalided out of the Legion and bereft of health, fitness and skills, it was no surprise that she went astray. It took a chance encounter with the Emperor on the most fateful day of his reign to set her back on track - he gave her a reason to live. You are right that this story began with a Septim's trust in her, and will end with a Septim's trust in her.

@Acadian: Nice review of the last post, Paladin! Yes, Julian gave us a great deal of insight from a most interesting perspective. Long journey, indeed. Of course, I had to have Matius stand in for the late Count as representative of Kvatch. I can imagine the scene back in that winter camp: an Imperial courier stops in off the Gold Road to report to the survivors that the new Emperor-to-be, the man they knew and respected as their priest, is on his way to take his seat as the next Septim ruler. Boldon, Oleta, Sigrid, and the others all turn to Matius and say pretty much one thing: You must go and stand in for us. Tell those old farts sitting there with their thumbs up their keisters that we, the survivors of Kvatch, the ones Dagon couldn't kill, fully and whole-heartedly support Brother Martin's claim to the throne and his right to light those damned Dragonfires and end this Crisis! He was here for us, we will be there for him. So get your butt over there! And of course Hassildor sees Matius in his ragged civilian garb and tells him You cannot go to the Elder Council looking like that! Here, take this fancy black brocade. It's not too fancy, but just enough. Wear it if you want to keep your blood!

Acadian, your last sentence made me twirl with joy. Someone noticed who were the ones to take action first. Brothers and sister of blood and steel, indeed. Blood, steel and Oblivion fire.

The story so far: Just as Martin Septim is about to proceed to the Temple to light the Dragonfires, the Imperial City falls under attack. Already Julian and some of the others appreciate the magnitude of this newest attack. Now we get to see Martin earn those purple robes he is wearing.

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Chapter 34.2 Invasion!

“No,” Martin’s calm voice cut through the hubbub of shouted orders. Everyone, from High Chancellor Ocato to the Guards on the doors, froze and looked at him. “No, if we seal the Palace we will be trapped here. We must take the fight to them!” He flung the silk and velvet robe back from the hilt of the greatsword strapped at his left hip. “The people out there are defenseless. We will not abandon them to these abominations.”

“Sire, at least wait until we hear from the other districts,” Jauffre provided the voice of caution as the Elders crowded around. Baurus and I glanced at each other nervously. How easy would it be for one of these governors to slip a dagger into Martin Septim’s side? As one, we moved closer to Martin’s side and gripped our katanas.

“The main thrust is at Temple District,” Martin shook his head. I had to agree. “It’s where the Temple of the One is. They know I’m here, they know I intend to light the Dragonfires. This is their last stand.” His hazel gaze moved around the gathered Elders and soldiers. “And ours. Let’s go!”

He started through the mass of robes and armor and drew us after him in his wake. I glanced back one last time at the room and gathered my final impressions.

Count Terentius sat slumped in his chair, shaking violently in withdrawal. Caro had fallen back to his seat, his face pale at the closeness of such danger. Carvain knelt beside Traven at the fallen soldier's side, calling for dressings and potions. Governor Khachsa bent down and began ripping her petticoats into shreds.

Hassildor disappeared into the shadows beneath the gallery with a speed that seemed inconsistent with his age. Just then, Matius came up behind me and blocked my view of the chamber. I turned away and raced out after Martin Septim.

"Sir!" One of the Palace Guards raced toward Ocato, a staff of white ash in his hands. He tossed it toward the tall Altmer before turning for the outer doors. In a swift movement unhampered by his elaborate brocaded robes, Ocato caught his Staff and brought it ready, white magelight flickering around its head and along its length.

Jauffre joined us as we reached those outer portals, his dai-katana already drawn and ready near his right shoulder. Martin Septim ran through, his greatsword pointed down and to the right. He paused at the top of the steps just as Dunore and Ertius joined us.

“Sire!” Dunore panted, his face painted scarlet beneath his helm. “Captain!” He flung his arm outwards, directing our gaze towards the sky. “Looks like Gates all around us.”

Akatosh! At least one in each District! I could see the red-black clots of thunderclouds characteristic of Oblivion Gates hulking above the Palace District walls at frequent intervals around the City. But one towered over the rest, lit from below by a brilliant fiery glow. That one’s in the Temple District!

Phillida and Camillus ran up, both already bloodied and burned by their run from the Fifth Legion’s headquarters in the Prison District. “Sire!” Camillus’s bass provided a welcome anchor against the screaming souls that now filled the air around us. “Daedra are swarming everywhere!”

“They’re after me!” Martin matched the Inspector General’s tone, if not his volume. He leaped onto the rotunda pavement. “I need to get to the Dragonfires! Once they’re lit this will end!”

Phillida opened his mouth to object, but Camillus’s emphatic nod stopped him. Apparently however, Martin caught the legate’s unspoken thoughts. “Those on duty in each District hold their ground! Bring every spare man to the Temple District!”

“Sire!” New respect moved through Phillida’s eyes and he turned to send his staff scattering with their orders. “Will you wait until we bring up the reinforcements?”

“No time!” Already Martin was moving widdershins. “Have them come there directly! Throw everything they’ve got into the Temple District!”

As Martin Septim leaped down onto Temple Way in a swirl of purple, we followed with a clatter of armor. Momentarily I thanked Akatosh for returning my combat fitness to me, and Ferrum for his excellent metal work. My Dragonscale armor felt as light as Matius’s cuirass and as flexible. The speed of the Dragon and the strength of Talos emanated from the inset medallions of Kvatch and Bruma as I ran after Uriel’s last son. In my right hand Touch sang softly in anticipation of the battle ahead.

At my right Baurus ran as effortlessly as I. He wore his armor with more ease than I did. Of course, he’s worn it for years as Uriel’s Dragonguard. It’s like an old friend for him. His shield defiantly flung the reddish light of Oblivion back in sparkles of blue and gold.

As for myself, I carried no shield, relying instead on the magical enchantment of my Dragonscale cuirass. After the last several weeks, spell-casting left-handed was now a permanent part of my combat style.

Around us rallied the soldiers of Legio Five. Their burnished mithril and gold armor shimmered in the scarlet gloom, turning them to blood-red figures. Not a few of them surged ahead of Martin Septim and reached the gates to the Temple District first.

Fire surged through the open portals and flung the leaders back. Screams of mortal agony joined those of tortured souls as several of the legionaries cooked within their ceremonial plate. Martin leaped to the right curb as hulking dremora and xivilai raced into the Palace District.

Frost bolts and crackles of shock flew toward the invaders. Martin flung his spells as quickly as I, keeping the nearest of the daedra away from him. A streak of scarlet brocade passed me as Ocato ran to the left side of the road. Magelight flickered around his staff and coalesced into streaks of lightning energy. Good. He’s well equipped to take on most of those daedra. Shock really is the way to go. But one corner of my mind noted that Martin Septim’s frost magic held its own potency, turning armor brittle and less resilient to other magical attacks.

As Grandmaster Jauffre, Captain Baurus, Dunore, Ertius and I drew together around Martin Septim, more legionaries ran up to intersperse themselves between the daedra and Uriel’s son. Somehow between our magicka and our combat training, we managed to clear the stairs leading up to the Temple District.

But the sight that greeted us as we entered the Temple District caused us to pause in dismay. The plaza rounding the Temple of the One swarmed with daedra, both bestial and dremora, chasing after terrified citizens and demolishing brave Watchmen with claw and fanged weapon.

Two xivilai converged on a legionary standing protectively over a woman clutching two small children. He raised his shield to bash one away and stabbed at the other. The one on his left caught his steel shield and crumpled it like parchment before wrenching it out of his hand, breaking his wrist violently in the process. The other slipped past the long blade and gripped the legionary’s arm in his fists, snapping it into two at the elbow. In concert, the two blue-skinned dremora flung the broken soldier away and turned toward the woman.

I started toward them, but Captain Baurus’s voice arrested my dash. “Julian!” His katana blocked my advance. “Stay with the Emperor! NOTHING ELSE MATTERS!” He did not wait to see if I obeyed his command, but turned and followed after Martin Septim down the stairs toward the Temple.

Old habits die hard, indeed. My Legion conditioning drew me after the Redguard Blade and away from the helpless family. Yet not all hope was lost. A dark shadow, moving too fast for mortal eye to see, flashed between the xivilai and the children. Dark blood flew from the daedras’ throats as they reeled back to the ground. Cobblestones shattered beneath their bulk, then they were still. And that shadow was gone into the maelstrom, its passing revealed only by the bodies of broken, bleeding daedroth, spider nymphs, xivilai and dremora that fell deosil around the curve of the Plaza.

Hassildor. He is taking a tremendous risk revealing himself like this. But he is on his own.

Refocusing my attention back on Martin Septim, I ran after him as he darted widdershins around the Temple Plaza. Along with my Dragonguard brethren, I paused only to fend off daedra and dremora from his person. At one point Matius came up alongside me, moving in that soldier’s way in spite of the black brocade he wore. His right hand clenched a steel longsword, likely snatched from a fallen legionary. Then he was gone, chasing after some foe. Somewhere behind us battlemages, called by Traven, moved into the fray, sending deadly magic after the enemy. Ocato disappeared and reappeared, his staff and hands constantly flinging shock damage spells.

Yet there were so many of them, and so few of us. Daedra lesser and greater swarmed mortals. Plate armor served little value for the Watchmen. Dremora turned their attention on our mages. The storm of magicka caused the fine hairs on the back of my neck to stand up and ants to crawl up my spine. I felt the splash-back of more than a few spells and wished I had been born under the sign of the Atronach. It made focusing on my own spell-casting much more difficult.

As we fought our way toward Divine Way, I found myself surging ahead of Martin Septim to block a valkynaz. Shock sizzled from my left hand into the dremora's ribs as I brought Touch against his abdomen. He spun away from me, and his upswept arm slammed into my shoulder and sent me flying forward onto my belly. Somehow I managed to keep my grip on my enchanted katana as sparks flew from my Dragonscale armor and magicka shimmered from its emblems of the Nine.

I stopped my momentum only by rolling onto my left side and flexing my right leg at the hip to jam my boot into the cobblestones. The abrupt stop allowed me to throw my weight upward onto my right foot and I staggered forward to catch my balance. Ahead of me Watchmen and legionaries ran toward the Temple entrance. The shouting around me escalated to new alarm and drew my gaze up.

What! In! Oblivion! Is! That!? Instead of the typical oblate lens of an Oblivion Gate, I saw instead a shallow pit of fire, edged by those familiar black blood-tipped talons, set into the pavement in front of the Temple approach. Towering above the immense flames stood a red-skinned gigantic being. Muscular, bulky, his feet larger than any one of us, his crimson gaze passed over us, scorn on his face. Horns curled upward from his skull, and fangs gleamed between grinning lips. One of his two left hands sported a gauntlet with long metal spikes extending forward from his fist. An immense black axe swung from a right hand. As I watched, he lifted one ponderous foot and brought it heavily down upon three Watchmen vainly hacking away at his opposite leg.

[Acadian]

A heart-poundingly frantic and deadly race to the Temple! You really captured the high stakes and desperation of a 'last stand'.

Baurus and Jauffre both shine here, as their experience was so clearly on display. Baurus’ commanding reminder to Julian of what was job #1 came at just the right time to keep her focused on Martin. What a timely intervention by Count Skingrad!

Yikes! Enter The Dagon!

[ghastley]

I like the contributions here from the players that don't usually get to participate. Narina Carvain healing, Traven organising the battlemages, Hassildor getting into the battle.

And it makes so much sense that Dagon would arrive through something other than a gate that's too small for him.

Acadian already quoted the other part I was going to comment on; of course Baurus would want to focus on Martin. He's learned that lesson the hard way.

[Grits]

As for myself, I carried no shield, relying instead on the magical enchantment of my Dragonscale cuirass. After the last several weeks, spell-casting left-handed was now a permanent part of my combat style.

I particularly loved to read this as they moved toward their last stand. It has been a joy to watch Julian’s spell-casting develop.

Hassildor’s contribution was an unexpected delight.

And big red makes his entrance!