Interregnum, 854 of the Second Era Options

[Destri Melarg]

Remko – Bonechilling huh? What a great choice of word given all that Valdemar goes through! Thank you.

Acadian – Valdemar’s experience has given him a fatalistic optimism, he is quite certain that the worst is going to happen! Because of that he tends to display a form of gallows humor without even realizing it. The fact that you picked up on it is gratifying indeed.

hautee – Valdemar’s tale was something that came almost fully formed with his character. Like I said before, he just kicked the door in, sat down, and put his feet up on the table. I haven’t had to do much with him except listen. I think a lot of what you see now will be echoed in the future when he is confronted by Akaviri, and their weapons, again.

And I can’t wait to see how you treat all this in Julian’s story.

SubRosa – I have always been of the mind that ‘eaten’, as expressed by Mysterious Akavir, was not to be taken literally. 'Assimilated' is probably the more accurate term. I think the fact that the Tsaesci who stayed in Cyrodiil were able to rise to such lofty heights in the Empire gives ample evidence of their adaptability.

Then again, maybe the Tsaesci ate the men in front of the women, and then conceived kids for their armies!

Thank you for finding that ‘o’ in Colovian, it must be the one that Ysmir sent back.

hazmick – I am so glad that you are enjoying this story. I wish that I could take more credit for Valdemar. But, as I told hautee, he is one of those characters who just hijack the keyboard. I always feel like I’m taking time off when I write his chapters.

trey –

Throughout this episode, I was furiously taking notes, hoping to learn how to give my characters a past that informs their present.

High praise from the master of immersion and atmosphere!

I think that Athlain brandishing a sword to get Egnatius to put out to sea accomplished your aim nicely. I still remember Carbo’s expression when he took away the last one!

mALX – I forgot all about berry sundae!!

I had a girlfriend named Regina once. Thinking of her has just given me the perfect name for my new character’s weapon: Regina, an ebony warhammer with a hefty drain health enchantment!

I am sorry you had to work so late. I hope your job is something that you love. I know that real life comes first, but rest should come second. This story is content being a diversion rather than an obligation.

Everyone – The 7th of First Seed is the longest day that we have experienced so far in Interregnum. There was no way to adequately cover everything that happens in one post, so I have broken the day up into what I hope will be four (maybe five) segments of my usual length. I hope you enjoy them.

* * *

7th First Seed, 2E 854
The Hotel Juilek, Imperial City
Pre-Dawn


In a dimly lit corner of the lobby, past the untended front desk and the Imperial couple locked in an embrace before the hearth, two Altmer sat in high-backed chairs and engaged in quiet discussion.

“She asks too much of me, Emero,” Farenenre said.

“She would disagree,” said Emero. “She merely wishes to know the Emperor’s plans for these Tsaesci.”

“I imagine that she is not alone in that regard.” Farenenre’s eyes darted once again toward the couple by the fire. The man was young, handsome, broad in the shoulders, and dressed in burgundy linens. The woman was comely as Imperials went, with long brown curls and green eyes. She was dressed in blue suede with leather boots that rested easily on the young man’s legs. Their attentions were devoted to each other. If they were eavesdropping, they hid it well. He turned back to Emero. “Tell Lady Direnni that the Emperor has not divulged his plans to me.”

“Not yet, but he will. When he does . . .”

“The Tsaesci surviving the day is not assured. You already know this. Any thoughts of future plans are premature.”

Emero leaned back in his chair. “Milady has faith in Tsaesci prowess.”

“Your lady has a habit of building her faith on unstable ground.” Farenenre rose from his chair, “I receive regular reports from Alinor. The Dominion is failing. Soon there will be war between Summerset and Valenwood. That letter she possesses will then be of little account. There was a time when I enjoyed your company, Emero, but that time is long past. I expect we shall not meet together like this again.”

He moved to walk away, but Emero’s hand locked upon his wrist.

“Unhand me!” said Farenenre.

“Soon perhaps,” said Emero. “But right now Milady’s letter still bares teeth. The Dominion’s retribution carries little weight this far from Northpoint. You should be more concerned with the fact that you remain within Cuhlecain’s grasp.” Emero released his grip.

“He needs me,” said Farenenre. He pulled his arm across his chest and inspected his wrist for bruises as he sat back down in his chair.

“Not once he gains the services of Zurin Arctus,” said Emero.

“Arctus?” Farenenre began to caress his offended wrist. “Arctus is fiercely loyal to Talos.”

“You are so certain? Now who builds faith on unstable ground?”

One could almost see the calculations going on in Farenenre’s mind. He rubbed his wrist with renewed vigor, his eyes darting back and forth as if over a page.

“What do you know?” asked Farenenre.

“Are you proposing an exchange of information?” asked Emero.

“I am,” said Farenenre, with a haste borne of desperation.

“Very well, my instructions upon leaving you are to go to the home of Master Arctus and invite him to dine with Lady Direnni in the palace this evening.”

“In the palace?” Farenenre grew pale; his jaw began to shift from side to side. “The Emperor uses your mistress to do his bidding?”

“You cannot fail to notice that the two have become close of late,” said Emero.

“Yes, but . . .” Farenenre clenched both fists, “why are you sharing this information with me?”

“I suppose I could tell you that it is because we share a familiarity that goes back many years. Or I could tell you it is because I do not approve of Lady Direnni’s actions in this regard. But the simple truth is that we cannot count on Master Arctus’ . . . friendship as we have come to count on yours.”

“Tell your mistress that her faith is well-placed. I do not know the specifics of the Emperor’s plans, but I do know that they involve the celebration today. The Emperor is keeping the lead snake out of the sands. Talos himself will share the Emperor’s box, as will Arctus and Lady Direnni. One does not need to be a smith to see that the forge is hot.”

“The snake-captain will not participate? That is news indeed.” Emero rose from his chair.

“You go to seek out Master Arctus?” asked Farenenre.

Emero smiled. “It is a bit too early for that. I go to tell Lady Direnni that she can continue to rely on your friendship.”

“We have an agreement, an exchange of information. I would know the substance of her meeting with Arctus.”

“And we would know the specifics of the Emperor’s plans,” said Emero. “It is my fondest hope that neither of us shall be disappointed.” He bowed, turned, and strode with purpose across the lobby and through the door.

Farenenre sat with his elbow on the arm of the chair. His hand slowly rubbed along his chin. The only sound was the crackle of the fire in front of the young couple, and the soft, gentle music of their kissing. The sound of a door closing upstairs awakened Farenenre from his meditation. He stood and cast a final glance toward the couple. Then he crossed the lobby and left the hotel.

As the door closed behind him, the couple disengaged. The young man stood, reached into his trousers, and produced a small silk purse that jingled when he placed it into the woman’s hand.

“I can’t remember an assignment more enjoyable,” he said, “Miss . . .”

“Trentius. Alma.” She opened the purse and peered inside. “Tell Master Arctus that I expect fair compensation if his assignments are going to be this labor intensive.”

“It was not that bad, was it?”

She smiled. “It beat sitting at the desk all night. You better get going; you’re going to lose him.”

He turned and started toward the door.

“Wait,” she said, “what do I call you?”

He flashed a crooked grin back over his shoulders.

“Rielus,” he said.

_____

7th First Seed, 2E 854
The Elven Gardens District, Imperial City
Dawn


Dawn brought new light into the world, but it did nothing to brighten Farenenre’s mood. He walked through the streets with purpose, his head down, and his mind churning.

He seeks to supplant me, he thought to himself. But what have I done to offend? Could this be Lady Direnni’s work? They had indeed grown close of late. She was spending more of her time in the palace. Has she shown him the letter in order to place herself near the throne?

He shook his head to dismiss the thought. The act made him aware of his surroundings. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of which direction he should travel. No it could not have been her. Cuhlecain lacks the subtlety for subterfuge. If he had knowledge of the letter I would now be a tenant of the dungeons, or worse. Besides, if Lady Direnni covets my position, what does she gain by giving me this information? That decided, Farenenre turned toward the gate leading to Green Emperor Road.

What of Talos? Could his hand be pulling the strings? My reports to him have become lax since the arrival of Lady Direnni. Could this be the beginning of an elaborate play for the throne? Emero said that they wish to keep me close to the Emperor because they can’t count on Arctus’ friendship. But if tonight she was able to somehow lure him into her confidence . . .

He stopped at the gate to Green Emperor Road. There were no guards present to open it. Damn the shift change! He pressed his weight against the door until it opened grudgingly before him. He stepped through to the other side.

Arctus! It all comes back to him. His loyalty to Talos has never before been questioned. Was that assumption a mistake? He could see the spire of White Gold Tower looming before him, framed by the new day’s sun under a cloudless sky of sparkling blue. Thankfully there were no guards or peasant rabble cluttering the entrance to the palace. There was no one waiting to solicit favor or engage him with inane chatter. Events were moving too quickly. He needed to be alone with his thoughts. Ironic that with the whole city celebrating the first day of spring I would have cause to be so alone.

He stopped. Alone! He looked again at the palace entrance. Then he turned back toward the gate through which he had just passed, and all of the gates leading to the various districts. No guards. No people. Stendarr’s mercy!

He felt a sudden pressure in his back that drove him to his knees. His gasp was involuntary; the pain was so sudden and intense that he could not cry out against it. A warm, coppery liquid rose like bile in the back of his throat. He pitched forward, and vomited dark thick blood on the grass in front of him. As he looked down he saw the tip of an arrow, painted red with his own blood, protruding from the upper part of his stomach. Out of the corner of his eye he saw three pairs of leather boots.

“Compliments of Master Arctus,” a voice said from above him.

He felt the sharp impact of their boots as they began pummeling him. He tried to turn from their attack, yet each way he swung sent waves of pain from the arrow lodged within him. His screams filled the silence of the plaza, but there was no one to come to his aid. He heard and felt the breaking of his own ribs. For several moments, an eternity it seemed to him, all thought was set adrift in a turbulent sea of pain and blood. One thought rose to the surface, and he grasped hold of it with everything he had left and clung to it like a man drowning. Arctus. Arctus.

“That’s enough,” said the voice above him.

There was more pain from the arrow as he was turned onto his back. He cried out again as he felt pressure against the tip. He was thrown to his stomach and treated to more waves of agony as the arrow was drawn through his body and yanked free. With blurred vision through swollen, half-closed eyes, he looked up and saw his tormentors. All wore hoods save the one who had spoken. The one who was still speaking, reading from a scroll that he held in one hand. I’ve seen him before. Where?

He felt himself bathed in light. The pain began to diminish. He felt his ribs reforming and the closing of the wound in his stomach. The dark bile in his throat disappeared. Presently his vision focused on the handsome face of a young Imperial squatting in the grass in front of him.

“I’ve seen you,” Farenenre whispered, his voice hoarse with the effort. “The hotel.”

“I carry a message from Master Arctus,” said Rielus. “This duplicity of yours will not be tolerated. You would do well to remember where your loyalty lies. Next time there will be no healing scroll, and we will not be as polite.” He straightened and walked slowly back toward the gate leading to the Elven Gardens.

Farenenre lay on the blood soaked grass. Gradually his faculties returned. He rose to a seated position and looked down at the state of his clothing and the darkened grass around him. I must leave before I am seen. He rose unsteadily, and found that his legs still functioned when he tried to walk. He tested his lungs by taking a deep breath of crisp morning air. The words of the young man’s warning still lingered. But they were like a whisper against the screaming insistence that his own words made in his ears and mind, words that threatened madness unless they were acted upon.

Zurin Arctus must die!

[Remko]

*drooldribble* WOOOOOOOOO!!!

[mALX]

AAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! This has to be counted among the most powerful chapters written - and that is saying a lot !!!!!!!!!!!!! WHEW !!!!!!!! It is not even the words of this chapter, but the implications of it and anticipation of what is coming !!!!!!!! MORE !!!!!!!!! MORE !!!!!! Don't wait and be polite, MORE !!!!


Oh, and obligation? ARGH !!!!! NEVAH !!!!!!!!

This post has been edited by mALX: Sep 23 2010, 03:03 PM

[treydog]

This one has almost rendered me speechless. There are no passages to pull out and quote, because the whole is so tightly written...

Wonderful descriptions, incredible intrigue, and several turns of the tension.

One particularly imaginative (and frightening) touch was the beating (and healing) of Farenenre. How much clearer could the message be? "We can hurt you- and heal you- only to hurt you again. And we can do it as often as we feel the need."

[Acadian]

Two wonderful scenes.

I. Here I was mentally taking copious notes as I envied your powerful mastery of dialogue to move the story. The realization that the kissing lovers were spying was delicious.

II. A dangerous warning. How brilliant to make your point with an arrow (ok, pun intended), then deliver your message, heal your victim and leave them alive in a puddle of blood (and possibly pee? Lol). Brilliant - a tactic equally suitable for warning or extortion that I shall have to remember.

After reading, I smiled that the continuity between the pair of scenes was the pair of kissing 'lovers'.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Sep 23 2010, 04:10 PM

[haute ecole rider]

And we get to see what a smooooooth operator Rielus is! Typical Imperial.

This is sooooo good - and the thickening of the plot is almost palpable.

I can't pull any one thing out either, like treydog. I can only say that this was a superlatively enjoyable segment of a chapter. The day promises to be a long one, yet I have a feeling that it will go by very quickly.

Looking forward to more!

[SubRosa]

Bond, Rielus Bond, in his excellency's secret service! I have seen so many spy movies that I knew the couple making out had to be spies. Cuhlecain is too dense to think of it, so it had to be Talos/Arctus. Emero's declaration that Arctus is going to work for the Emperor is a good ploy to keep Farenenre in line, at least until he is no longer useful. I suspect that moment is coming very soon now.

A truly inventive use of magic, mortally wounding Farenenre and then healing him before it was too late! I bet the Corleones wish they could do that! I was a little surprised to see it was Arctus who was actually behind it. I would have expected Emero/Varla to be the ones behind it, only making it look like Arctus was responsible to bring him more firmly into their camp. But I really doubt that Rielus is a double agent.

This looks like the first truly major blunder Talos/Arctus have made, because it can only prompt the reaction we saw in Farenenre. The threat of violence is a much more powerful motivator then violence itself. Because the threat instills fear. While the actual act creates hatred instead, which only prompts people to resist. As Machiavelli said: "Let them fear you, but not hate you." Unless Talos/Arctus really want Farenenre to stop spying for them and instead try to kill them?

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Sep 28 2010, 10:44 PM

[hazmick]

WOW! Rielus is smooth indeed, a super secret agent.

farenenre is also a marvelous character, you've done a great job!

This story maintains it's intruige and ecxitement levels every time I read a new chapter, hooray for Destri!

[Winter Wolf]

Sorry to go back over the old stuff, but with your writing I just have to!

“Zombies,” said Alain. He pulled a cloth from inside his tunic and began wiping the sticky, congealed blood from his sword. “This must be the right place.”

I shook my head in amazement at how well you crafted this line. It was the perfect connection between the bridge of horror that the zombies had become and the well of fear that lurked on the other side.

She stood near the opening, though none of them could remember her presence there even an instant before. She was framed in the halo of light cast by the torch that she carried. Her slender frame was obscured in the folds of a black cloak that fell into a puddle at her feet. The skin of her hands was the color of the melting snow, and her cold blue eyes dismissed each of them in turn before lingering with a startling insolence on Aran Direnni. When she spoke the voice that exited her blood-red lips carried the unmistakable accent of High Rock.

Wow!! That is an amazingly well crafted sentence. I loved the way you slowed down the scene at the mid-point of the description. Ah, if only we can all write with that talent....

For the first time in his life Aran understood the human preoccupation with Arkay and he found himself giving silent thanks to a deity that he did not believe in before entering the cave.

Lol. I have always thought that the reason the chapel of Arkay was positioned at Cheydinhal was because the Elder council was scared that the dark dealings of Vvardenfell might corrupt and destroy the minds of Cyrodiil. There is nothing like holding a trinket against the dark. Humans have done it for millennium.

I love the way you wrote the KOW. You gave him the command and presence that he demanded. Awesome!!

“Arctus?” Farenenre began to caress his offended wrist. “Arctus is fiercely loyal to Talos.”

“You are so certain? Now who builds faith on unstable ground?”

One could almost see the calculations going on in Farenenre’s mind.

Ha, ha. That is exactly what I was thinking too!!

A special thanks must go to Remko, Acadian and mALX. I remember a time at Beth when they encouraged your writing of Interregnum when few others took any notice.

Your tale, Destri, is the finest writing I have EVER read.

This post has been edited by Winter Wolf: Sep 26 2010, 03:18 AM

[Destri Melarg]

Remko – Thank you for the drool! (Did I really just say that?) That ending was a whole lot of fun to write.

mALX – I wasn’t waiting to be polite. I had to drag this next one kicking and screaming into the world! Sometimes in re-writing you can ‘fix’ a thing until it’s broken. Going back to re-fix it has not been fun. Thank you so much for all the kind words.

trey – The fact that this last chapter rendered you almost speechless is as ringing an endorsement as I can imagine. To (badly) paraphrase Joel McCrea:

“Now I can enter my house justified.”

Your assessment of the message being sent is precisely what was intended. Thank you.

Acadian – Thank you so much. Is it strange that I actually thought of including pee for your benefit? The kissing ‘lovers’ bridging the two scenes never even occurred to me until you mentioned it. Thank you for that too. I look forward to the time that this extortion tactic is repeated in Buffy’s story.

hautee – Rielus is just a young man trying to make his way in the big city. I didn’t see Alma complaining (well, actually she did, but you know what I mean ). I hope this segment of the story does go by quickly. I am eager to get back to Artaeum to continue Lattia’s story . . . and Arnand’s.

SubRosa – What can I say? You’re right on all counts. I hope that this chapter answers some of the questions that the last one raised.

I find it telling that Machiavelli wrote The Prince in an effort to secure the favor of the Medici family, the same family that tortured him and forced him into exile. I imagine he knew all about fear vs. hate.

hazmick – Thank you for the vote of confidence. I hope you enjoy this next chapter just as much.

Winter Wolf – Welcome back, brother! You have been missed. Your idea for why the Elder Council placed the Chapel of Arkay in Cheydinhal raises a number of story possibilities (especially since Cheydinhal has such a high Dunmer population).

Your comments are as appreciated as they are humbling. Thank you so much for the continued support.

* * *

7th First Seed, 2E 854
The Imperial Palace, Imperial City
Morning


In the royal suite of the Imperial Palace, the Emperor Cuhlecain bathed in a solid gold tub and gave distracted audience to a snake.

“. . . our home in Akavir,” the Tsaesci was saying. “We train the syffim to move, to act, to think as one unit. The sum is greater than each part, but each part is vital to the sum.”

The Emperor was not listening. He was transfixed by the snake-man in front of him. He was mesmerized by the Tsaesci’s height and regal bearing. He marveled at the savage fangs and the forked tongue that tasted the very air around them, and told of mysteries beyond a human's understanding. He was dazzled by the way that light reflected off those golden scales, and the undulation of powerful muscle underneath. With an army of such creatures, Cuhlecain thought to himself, all of Nirn would be within my grasp.

“Your majesty?”

Cuhlecain pulled his mind from thoughts of conquest, but he made himself hold the snake’s gaze. “What is it you wish of me, Chevalier?”

Perhaps it was the suppleness of frame that made the Tsaesci’s bow so graceful. Cuhlecain could see the truth in the legends of Tsaesci diplomacy.

“I would have your leave to join my syffim in the battle to come, your majesty.”

Cuhlecain rose from the tub. Even standing he was still submerged to the belly. The Reman Dynasty used Tsaesci as advisors, he thought. This one would doubtless serve better than that fop, Farenenre. He climbed from the tub with a distinct effort and covered himself with a robe that dragged on the floor behind him as he walked over to the window. His eyes never left the Tsaesci. He hoped that the pause in conversation gave the illusion that he was considering the snake-captain’s request.

“No,” he said at last, “Your place is by my side. You are far too valuable to sacrifice on bloodsport.”

Anger flashed like lightning in Renald’s slitted eyes, but he mastered it quickly. Even so, his voice hissed when he spoke. “And my syffim; is their value less?”

The cheek! He would challenge me in my own bedchamber? ”You forget yourself,” said Cuhlecain. “I have accepted your oath, they are my syffim now. I alone shall decide when and how they are deployed.”

Renald bowed again, but this one was different. Gone was the grace that marked his first bow, replaced by a forced civility, a grudging acquiescence. His voice still hissed when he spoke.

“Of course, your majesty,” said Renald.

What courage! He bows to me, not out of fear, but because honor demands it. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes your majesty. If I am not to join them, might I conduct them to the Arena? I would wish them good fortune in the coming battle.”

Cuhlecain continued to stare. He nodded.

Renald bowed again, gracefully. Then he turned and slithered from the chamber.

As the door closed behind him, a smile spread across the Emperor’s face. Could even Talos stand before such courage? These are no army of broken kittens, who cower in the face of a cavalry charge. These are Tsaesci! They eat kittens. If given the order, Talos would surely fall.

A faint knock interrupted his train of thought.

“Come,” said the Emperor.

The door opened and Farenenre entered. He was dressed in a blue silk robe and trailed perfume like a Waterfront harlot. But there was something different about the way the elf carried himself. There was fervor in the eyes that Cuhlecain had never seen before.

“You are late,” said the Emperor.

“My deepest apologies, your majesty,” said Farenenre. “I saw the serpent leaving your chamber, is there something amiss?”

“No. He wanted leave to stand with his unit in the sands later.”

“A reasonable request, perhaps you should consider it. After all, we want to keep these Tsaesci pliable.”

Cuhlecain smiled. “They will bend to my will, Farenenre. Their honor demands it.”

“As you say your majesty,” said Farenenre. “If I may say so, this morning finds you in good spirits.”

“It is First Planting, an auspicious day to learn something that gives me great hope of success in the trials to come.”

“And, if I may be so bold, what is that your majesty?”

“Snakes don’t blink,” said the Emperor.

_____

7th First Seed, 2E 854
Reman Plaza, Imperial City
Morning


“We have a problem,” said Zurin Arctus.

General Talos nodded. “Have you broken your fast, Arctus? Please, join me.”

Arctus crossed the room and sat at the general’s table. A servant filled the plate in front of him with a thin slice of roasted boar and diced potatoes sautéed with onions. A sweetroll still hot from the oven bore a chewy blackberry filling, and a boiled kwama egg was served in a large bowl on the side. Arctus waited until the servant removed himself from the room.

“I have just received Rielus’ report,” he said.

Talos used a small hammer to crack the shell of his egg. “Eat first.”

Arctus bowed his acceptance and set to the task. For a time the two men ate in comfortable silence. Outside the window, the sounds of growing activity filtered up from the street below. When the plates were emptied and carried from the room, Talos leaned back in his chair.

“Rielus’ report,” he said.

“He performed his task to the letter,” said Arctus. “But our timing could not have been worse.”

“Go on.”

“Rielus followed Farenenre to the Hotel Juilek, where he met with Lady Direnni’s manservant. During the course of their conversation it was suggested that I might be convinced to replace Farenenre, and that Lady Direnni was inviting me to dinner to discuss it under orders from the Emperor.”

“Rielus overheard this?”

“He did. That memory of his makes him extremely useful as a spy.”

“And then he attacked Farenenre?”

“Yes.”

Talos leaned forward. The servant returned bearing a tray with two silver goblets, a small stone cup, and a bottle of Cyrodiilic Brandy. He placed the tray down on the table and poured. He then raised the cup to his lips and drank deep. After a moment, he looked to General Talos and nodded. He turned and left the table, still bearing the cup. Arctus waited until the door closed behind him.

“Farenenre’s usefulness is at an end,” said Arctus. “We should take steps to eliminate him. General?”

“Lady Direnni’s reputation is well-earned,” said Talos. He lifted one of the goblets and handed it to Arctus.

Arctus shook his head. “She simply benefits from our mistake. I find it difficult to imagine what use she has for Farenenre when she has gained proximity enough to define the Emperor’s plans without him.”

Talos smiled and sipped from his goblet, “exactly.”

It took a moment for realization to dawn on Arctus. When it did he almost laughed. “She seeks to eliminate him.”

Talos nodded. “More accurately, she seeks to force us to do it. She has played her position well. Farenenre now sees you as an enemy that he must destroy. But he cannot move against you as long as he believes that you carry the Emperor’s favor. Moreover, with you alive, he must now feel distrust toward the Emperor whom he serves. His only recourse is to now embrace Clan Direnni. Have you received Lady Direnni’s invitation?”

“Not yet,” said Arctus.

“Accept it when you do.”

“Shall I express an interest in advising the Emperor?”

Talos shook his head. “I doubt that it will come up. Clan Direnni is no friend to the Empire. Lady Direnni is not working in Cuhlecain’s best interest. She plays at something else. It may turn out that our goals are not at cross purpose.”

“Clan Direnni’s hatred of the Empire extends to you as well.”

“Perhaps,” said Talos. “But, despite Cuhlecain’s lack of subtlety, he is no man’s fool. She had to offer him something to make him open his home to her.”

“My guess would be you,” said Arctus.

“That was my guess as well,” said Talos, “until Farenenre. Lady Direnni is an intriguing mystery, one that we would be wise to solve quickly.”

“The palace harbors sharp ears,” said Arctus. “I doubt Lady Direnni will be free to speak her true purpose.”

“True, but she does not seek idle conversation. Hear her out, I would know if her apparent subtlety is a happy accident, or a small sample of what we can expect from her in the future.”

Arctus nodded, “and Farenenre?”

“Spared for now,” said Talos. “Killing him at this juncture serves her ends, not ours. When Farenenre leaves the stage it will be to our benefit.”

Arctus took the second goblet on the tray. He raised it to his lips. “He is a loose end.”

“Indeed, a loose end who wants to kill you.” Talos smiled, “perhaps we can make use of that.”

Arctus lowered the goblet. “General?”

“You should return home, Arctus. Doubtless by now Lady Direnni’s representative is waiting.”

Arctus bowed and turned toward the door.

“On your way out, tell Alorius that I have need of him,” said Talos.

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Oct 1 2010, 10:49 AM

[Remko]

Pfff..... And then they call the Tsaesci snakes......
Have I said before how much I like the intrigues and conspiracies in your story? Well, I do

[mALX]

ARGH !!!!! I'm following Arctus to see what plot you are hatching with him, will he become the Underking? GAAAH !!!!!!! This story should be in book form so we don't have to wait between chapters !!!!! ARGH !!!!

[haute ecole rider]

ARGH !!!!! I'm following Arctus to see what plot you are hatching with him, will he become the Underking? GAAAH !!!!!!! This story should be in book form so we don't have to wait between chapters !!!!! ARGH !!!!

Or posted in its own entirety on its own website

I loved how you are continuing to tighten the weave here. We see the syffim, and the way Cuhlecain is so inconsiderate of their honor and their skills. I seriously doubt Talos would throw them away on the Arena sands, let alone separate them. I have a feeling this won't turn out well for our stunted Emperor.

You had me going for a moment in the previous post about Arctus's loyalty to Talos, but now I'm reassured (slightly) that he hasn't turned. Yet.

And like General Talos, I am waiting to see what Lady Direnni is up to.

[Acadian]

Two scenes. I enjoyed both of them, especially the first.

Scene I. What magnificent contrasts among characters! Look at the stark differences among these three:

He was mesmerized by the Tsaesci’s height and regal bearing. He marveled at the savage fangs and the forked tongue that tasted of the very air around them. He was dazzled by the way that light reflected off those golden scales, and the undulation of powerful muscle underneath.

Cuhlecain rose from the tub. Even standing he was still submerged to the belly.

The door opened and Farenenre entered. He was dressed in a blue silk robe and trailed perfume like a Waterfront harlot.

I'm puttin' my gold on the Snakes; they don't blink.


Scene II. Some of the political intrigue excapes me I'm sure, but I'll tell you what did not escape me:

...filled the plate in front of him with a thin slice of roasted boar and diced potatoes sautéed with onions. A sweetroll still hot from the oven bore a chewy blackberry filling, and a boiled kwama egg was served in a large bowl on the side.

Only our fair Lady from Anvil feeds me so well!

[treydog]

The Emperor was not listening. He was transfixed by the snake-man in front of him. … With an army of such creatures, Cuhlecain thought to himself, all of Nirn would be within my grasp.

The way you describe the audience with Cuhlecain is a lesson in effective writing. You never say “The Emperor is a small-minded, narrow fool, unfit to command the Tsaesci or anyone else.” But that is the inevitable conclusion from that small scene. It is compact, dense, and incredibly powerful.

Talos, on the other hand, comes across as more than fit to sire a line of Emperors worthy of the title. The dance between Lady Direnni and Talos is wonderfully complex.

[SubRosa]

Emperor Cuhlecain bathed in a solid gold tub and gave distracted audience to a snake.
Right out of the gate you give us this brilliant line! It says so much, with so few words, in such an attitude, that it spells out volumes!

And I can see Cuhlecain royally blew it with Renald. Exactly as I expected. One thing you have made very plain is that he really does not have what it takes to rule. He lacks both the charisma and the cunning. If Talos did not depose him, someone else would have.

Likewise, I really like how you portray Talos. He really is like a Caesar come right from the pages of history and into Tamriel. He has the cool, the grace, the nerve, and sheer brilliance that make a great leader. It really is no wonder he made himself Emperor, and was the first to conquer all of Tamriel. As Remko said, you really do write intrigue quite well, and he is the perfect spider to be manipulating everything from the center of his web.


nits:
the forked tongue that tasted of the very air around them
The of sounds a little odd, like Cuhlecian was eating the tongue and describing what it tasted like (and not chicken for a surprise!). I think if you just delete the of, the sentence will flow more directly.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Sep 30 2010, 05:43 PM

[Linara]

Absolutely magnificent. I've been reading this for a while, and it just gets better...

[Winter Wolf]

Cuhlecain rose from the tub. Even standing he was still submerged to the belly.

Epic imagery there !! I love it.

Awesome chapter all up. The machinations you weave are a joy to read.

[Destri Melarg]

Remko – Have I said before how much I enjoy writing such intrigues and conspiracies? Well, I do . . . especially when they are so appreciated. Thank you.

mALX – Arctus’ transformation into the Underking is a story for another time. And isn’t the anticipation part of the fun?

hautee – If I had you going before about Arctus’ loyalty to Talos, then I apologize (slightly) for what I am about to do to you now. Don’t worry, Varla will soon make her appearance.

Acadian –I am so glad that the differences between those three characters stood out. A ‘striking contrast’ is exactly what I was going for. And I prepared that meal just for you.

trey – Please see my comments below to SubRosa. Making Talos worthy of the title Emperor is easier than you might imagine. It’s making Varla worthy of the dance with him that has me pulling my hair out!

SubRosa – The line you quoted is my favorite in the whole chapter. It might be my favorite in the whole month!

You and trey have come to the same conclusion about Cuhlecain. His character has emerged differently than I first envisioned. I saw him as short, but not small, the type of man who could take a nation of city-states and forge them into an empire. Somewhere during the telling he turned into Peter Lorre. I don’t know how it happened, but I am determined to run with it now.

And my intention with the word ‘of’ was to give the impression that, instead of merely tasting it, Renald was drawing information from the air around him. Reading it over again I see the point you were making, and I have gone back to clarify it. Thanks yet again.

Linara – A belated welcome to Chorrol. I’m glad that you are enjoying Interregnum. Thank you so much for reading, and for commenting.

Winter Wolf – Thanks. Cuhlecain standing in the tub was an image that took me by surprise in the writing. Once it popped into my head, I knew I had to use it.

* * *

7th First Seed, 2E 854
The Waterfront District, Imperial City
Mid-Day


Even without his armor Captain Alorius felt out of place among the teeming, unwashed throng that flocked to the stalls set up along the docks. Voices raised toward shrill annoyance hawked the catch of the day and made show of similar goods to those sold at higher prices in the Market District. Here and there scattered children moved through the crowd with hungry eyes. They cut purses where they could with daggers as sharp as their wits. One of them, a small, wide-eyed Khajiit, used his nascent claws instead of a dagger, and bounded from victim to victim on nimble bare feet.

Alorius smiled and nodded toward the Khajiit, who grinned back before fading into the crowd. Alorius moved to the spot where the Khajiit had been, and from there he spotted his target trying in vain to blend with his surroundings.

If the blue silk robe did not give the mer away, then the perfume that wafted from him did. It caused those standing near to venture no closer than an arm’s length, which only further made the mer stand out. Here we go, Alorius thought and navigated closer before he spoke.

“Is this what you deem discretion, Lord Farenenre?”

“This is what I deem courtesy,” said Farenenre, as he looked down with disdain at those around him. “Make your comments brief, I am due at the Arena.”

“As am I,” said Alorius. Expect hostility, General Talos’ voice echoed in his head, keep him off balance. He placed a hand on Farenenre’s shoulder. “Come with me.”

Farenenre drew back. His hands rose in front of his chest in readiness to form a spell.

“I mean you no harm,” said Alorius. Remain firm, the General had said. “Arctus’ actions were not sanctioned by General Talos, but the battlemage has a formidable network of spies. What I wish to say to you is better done away from prying eyes.”

Farenenre’s eyes narrowed, but he allowed himself to be conducted through the crowd, down a flight of steps, and into an alcove beneath the docks.

“Speak your words,” said Farenenre.

Alorius nodded. Do not rush. “We heard about your encounter with Arctus’ agents this morning. Let me assure you it was not General Talos’ wish that you come to harm.”

“Arctus carries Talos’ banner.”

Agree with him. “So we thought as well. It seems we have all been fooled.” Flatter him. “You are far too important in your position next to the crown. Attacking you only serves to push you closer to the Emperor. We believe that Arctus seeks to remove you to gain access to the throne.”

“What of the guards at the gates, and at the palace?” asked Farenenre.

“They were removed on Arctus’ orders by invoking the General’s name. No one thought to question it. Believe me, if the General sought to send you a message, he would have done it through me.”

Farenenre slowly nodded his head.

“The agent who followed you,” Alorius continued, “and the men who attacked you, had you seen them before?”

“No.”

“That is unfortunate. They are men loyal to Arctus alone. We believe that they will soon make a move against the General. We cannot take action against them if they remain unknown to us. Can you identify them?”

“The leader perhaps,” said Farenenre. “The others kept their faces under hoods.” Farenenre’s eyes grew wide in the realization. “They did not wish to be recognized!”

I have him, thought Alorius. “No they did not, but we will find them just the same. When we do, you have my word that they will be properly dealt with. We don’t know how long Arctus has been scheming, but it appears that he is ready to hatch his plans. The General will have to move quickly to counter them. When he does, he may need your cooperation.”

Farenenre nodded. “He will have it.”

“Good. Until then simply behave as you normally would. Expect no more assaults from the battlemage. General Talos plans to keep him closer than ever.”

“How does he plan to do that?” asked Farenenre.

The General’s final instruction echoed in Alorius’ mind. Appease him. “Arctus will understand that it is to guard against the Emperor’s Tsaesci. In reality it is to keep a closer eye on his activities.” Alorius looked toward the mid-day sun. “You should make your way to the Arena. I will wait until you have left the district before I follow. We will contact you again when we know more.”

Farenenre bowed. “Tell General Talos that I look forward to our next meeting.” He turned and disappeared up the stairs.

Alorius waited with the sounds of heavy footfalls and the cries of desperate vendors muted by the docks above him. Step one completed, he thought to himself. He climbed the stairs and, instead of turning left on the path toward the gates, he turned right. Now for step two. He walked past the point where the crowds and the stalls ended. He stepped from the stone path into the warm grass that led to the water’s edge, and stopped in the shadow of a makeshift tent.

A small Khajiit boy with wide eyes and bare feet vanished into the tent at Alorius’ approach. He emerged a moment later behind the leg of his elder, a slender adult male with long braids that hung down to his shoulders and pulled at the skin of his scalp, which gave his golden eyes a sleepy, half-focused quality.

“We meet again, captain,” said the Khajiit.

“Greetings Dar’Zhan,” said Alorius. “The General has need of your services again.” He looked down at the boy, “and hello to you as well, K’Sharra.”

_____

7th First Seed, 2E 854
Arena District, Imperial City
Mid-Day


The lines of those awaiting entry to the Arena spilled through the gardens and threatened to overlap through the gate to Green Emperor Road. Despite the proximity of the growing crowd, the two guards at the gate clutched at their weapons and cast nervous eyes behind them, at the four Tsaesci that had just passed into the district.

“They gather in numbers to see us fall,” said Eesham, as his forked tongue tasted the air.

“Then they shall be disappointed,” said Chirasch.

“Four centuries we spend defending their shores,” said Xarsien, “without recognition or gratitude. Now they mass in force to see our blood spilled on Arena sand.”

Renald scanned the crowd. “Today is their planting festival. That is why so many are free to gather. We are offered simply as entertainment.” Yet Xarsien speaks the truth, he thought to himself. Why is it that they hate us so much? They quarrel with the Elves, and they take up arms against the Khajiit. Yet they share society with both races. Even the lizards of Black Marsh are assimilated. But we are viewed askance, and given wide berth.

“I have no wish to entertain such as these,” said Chirasch.

“Nor I,” said Eesham.

“The Emperor orders such,” said Xarsien. “Whether we wish it or not, his will be done.”

Renald kept his silence. Is the stunted man who has trouble dismounting his own bathtub truly the Emperor? Or do I sacrifice my syffim to quench a small man’s lust for blood?

Chirasch descended the stairs. “Then let us get on with it.”

“Single file,” said Renald, “Xarsien to the rear guard. Harm no one.”

“Yes, my lord.” They spoke in unison, and then proceeded down the stairs. The crowds parted at their approach. Chirasch’s great height and stout shoulders cowed any who stood in front of them. And Xarsien’s fierce countenance and sharp eyes gave pause to any who followed. Renald tasted the pungent flavor of fear everytime his forked tongue pierced the air. The scent of it covered the aromas springing from the gardens. He could see it in the eyes of those with courage enough not to turn away from his gaze. And he could hear it in the nervous whispers that closed in like a net all around him. In the branches above, children climbed over one another for an unobstructed view.

They reached the Arena’s main gate. More guards appeared and placed themselves between the Tsaesci and the crowd that threatened to follow. Renald looked at the door leading to the spectator’s boxes, and then turned and watched as his syffim moved to the door leading to the bloodworks.

“Syffim,” he said.

As one they turned to face him.

“What is your will, my lord” asked Chirasch.

Renald looked to each of them in turn. “Survive. No matter what it takes, no matter who or what you have to slay in there. Survive!”

Once again, his syffim spoke in unison. “Yes, my lord.”

[mALX]

K'SHARRA - AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH !!!!!!! I LOVE THIS...AAAAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!!!


PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE POST THE NEXT CHAPTER !!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!!


The first time I read this chapter and the next I was leaping out of my chair screaming - I get chills just thinking about the genius in you that thought up the 7th First Seed chapters !!!!!!

ARGH!!!! MORE! MORE!! MORE !!!!