Interregnum, 854 of the Second Era Options

[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 !!!!

[treydog]

Woo-Hoo! Dar’Zhan and K’Sharra are back! Things are about to get even more interesting.

There were two interior monologues that really made this chapter-

Alorius recalling Talos' instructions on how to deal with Farenenre- and Renald considering that his honor and obligation have caused him to back the wrong Emperor.

The rich descriptions of the docks and of the crowd thronging the Arena really bring the world to life.

“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.”

That was one inspiring, chilling moment!

[haute ecole rider]

There is a grand chessmaster in this story, and I'm having a bit of trouble figuring him/her out.

The most obvious candidate, of course, is General Talos. However, on further consideration, one cannot disregard Arcturus, or Chevalier Renard.

I'm happy to see my favorite young Khajiit again. Though he has but a small part in your story, his connection to Oblivion (and Julian) endears K'sharra to me. Do I sense a foreshadowing of a greater part for him to come?

The more I see of your Tsaesci, the more I enjoy getting to know them. They are complex, more than just three-dimensional, and while I find them exotic, they resonate with me on a deeper level of understanding. Their sense of honor, of loyalty, of duty to each other is admirable.

Alorius is becoming quite the personality - more than just Talos's yes man but also his co-conspirator.

You continue to enthrall me with this epic. It's up there with Robert Ludlum's best.

[Acadian]

I also enjoyed the description of the docks area.

Wonderful, flowing dialogue (of course).

Like treydog, my spine tingled over your ending here. I quite like these Tsaesci.

Now if others are pondering things like who is the chessmaster and wondering at the grand machinations unfurling here, you can just imagine poor me. I think I need a sweet roll!

[SubRosa]

Poor Farenenre, he smells so bad even people at the fish market won't go near him! Alorius played him like a piano, and the entire time, we see the image of Talos standing behind him. Quite a piece of fast work to fix their sticky situation!

And Dar'Zhan and K’Sharra again I see. Now I am wondering if Talos plans to have them wrangle up every rat from the sewer and drive them into the palace!

Finally, off to the Arena we go! Ever since it was mentioned, I have been wondering why Cuchelain would send the Tsaesci to fight in the Arena. My guesses are two. One, he wants to show them off, not only to the city, but especially to Talos. Basically a way of saying "look at what a badass I am with these guys on my team!" Guess #2 is that he wants the other three dead in order to isolate Renald, a first move to making him the replacement for Farenenre.

The comments by the Tsaesci themselves I found most moving of the segment. Their observation that they were being used as entertainment for the lowest common denominator of Cyrodiilic society. It is a real slap in the face after all they have endured for the Empire, and in the end it can only drive them all deeper into the arms of Talos.

[Linara]

Yay, K'Sharra is back! I must also agree that the Tsaesci are intriguing and complicated characters. I trust they'll smash their opponents into oblivion

[Destri Melarg]

A very special thank you goes out to SageRosa for comments that she made way back at the Battle of Fort Black Boot. Those comments bore fruit in the last chapter with the reintroduction of Dar’Zhan and K’Sharra.

mALX – Sorry for keeping you waiting so long. I tried to condense the next two segments into one post for your benefit, but I was unsuccessful. You’re just going to have to suffer a bit longer.

trey – I was a little worried about the passage that you quoted. I thought that I might be laying it on a bit thick. I am glad that you found it inspiring and chilling. And speaking of interior monologues . . .

hautee – The grand chessmaster of this story has had to improvise as things have gone sideways, but his/her identity remains the same.

I am not surprised to hear that the Tsaesci resonate within you. Reading Julian’s story it is hard not to feel that they are cut from the same cloth.

And K’Sharra’s role, though small, is vital in what lies ahead.

Acadian – The fact that these Tseasci resonate is incredibly gratifying. I said long ago that Renald was my favorite character in this story, and that has not changed.

I must apologize to you because I had it all prepared, but in the writing of this segment I forgot to add your sweetroll!

SageRosa – Are you slowly coming to the conclusion that this is a day that Farenenre should have just stayed in bed?

You are not far off the mark in your speculation about Talos’ plans for Dar’zhan and K’Sharra. And both of your guesses about Cuhlecain’s motives are correct. As for the idea that the Emperor’s actions serve only to drive the Tsaesci into Talos’ arms . . .

Linara – Hopefully this next segment will further complicate the Tsaesci. Smashing opponents into Oblivion is still to come.

* * *

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


Prior Sanne preferred the church as embodied by the Arena to the more conventional Temple of the One. Truth be told, he preferred it over the Chapel of Akatosh in his home city of Kvatch, but he would never admit either of those facts to anyone. His appointment to the council depended on his reputation for piety. A prior with a fondness for gold and a taste for the grape was not the image that he wished to convey. His presence in the Emperor’s box was a duty performed at the Emperor’s request. The fact that he so intently watched the clash of weapons on the sands below him was testament to his willingness to be subjected to the more 'common' forms of entertainment, and had nothing whatsoever to do with the substantial amount of gold that he had wagered on the yellow team.

Seated to his left, Synnius Carbo waved away yet another vintage that had proven to be an affront to his magnificent palate. By this time the beleaguered servants had made eight trips to the Arena’s wine stores, and eight times their choice had been found wanting. This last effort had been positively crippled, lacking in both nose and legs. Worse, the offending libation had been spilled by an incompetent servant, nearly staining to lamentable ruin a green silk outfit that had cost fifty gold in the Market District. Despite suffering the repeated indignities of substandard servants and inferior grape, Carbo’s spirits remained uplifted. Seated in the Emperor’s box he preened for the common folk who, he was sure, paid more attention to him than to the woeful exhibition of soldiery taking place on the sands below. The only thing that could prove dampening to his mood was the storm clouds that gathered in the skies above.

_____

Varla Direnni sat behind the two Councilors and seriously contemplated bloodletting. Not the fierce bloodletting of necessity as being demonstrated by the combatants below her. Or even the satisfying bloodletting gained by throttling the ineffectual fops that shared the Emperor’s box with her. No, her anger was reserved for the brother who had chosen this as the time to make himself absent from his post in Balfiera. Damn him! She thought to herself. How long does he expect me to placate the Emperor? He told me that he could deliver High Rock. Now I am left to stand for his empty promise.

The guards behind her parted to admit Emero into the box. Varla’s eyes met his, and his almost imperceptible shake of head gave new fuel to her ire. Still no word, she thought. Could they have been waylaid on the voyage from Glenumbria? And why make that silly journey in the first place? Nothing that Aran had done of late made any sense to her. Her own actions had been carefully shaped to give her options in the event that she had to choose a side, but her brother was leaving her with scant reason to choose his.

“. . .Lady Direnni?”

The sound of her name pulled her from thoughts of Aran. She looked into the well fed and inquiring face of Synnius Carbo.

“My apologies, Lord Carbo,” Varla said, “I must have been lost in thought.”

“Something quite vexing, I imagine,” said Carbo. “It is shameful to see a brow as beautiful as yours so knit on a day of celebration.”

“Mundane concerns, I assure you. Was your lordship asking a question?”

“I merely wished to know if you were enjoying the match,” said Carbo.

I would enjoy it more if you stood on the sands! “Truthfully, I find it terribly wasteful, my lord.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

Because, unlike you, those men are worth something. “Those men represent the cream of Imperial combatants, do they not? Would they not be of more use in legion armor, instead of raiments of blue and yellow?”

Prior Sanne turned in his chair. “In times of war these men are deployed onto fields of battle. During peace they hone their skill in the Arena, and prove useful entertaining the masses.”

Not to mention lining your purse when they win. “By dying needlessly?” asked Varla.

“By tempering those who survive,” said Prior Sanne. “In war those who have braved Arena sands rarely meet their match on the battlefield. Even your elven blades are forged in fire, Lady Direnni.”

Would that I could have an elven blade in my hand right now! “But the mind is a far more powerful weapon than any sword, my dear Prior. To use your own analogy, I see only waste in burning through a forest of fertile minds in order to forge a single blade.”

“You give too much credit to their minds,” said Lord Farenenre as he entered the Emperor’s box smelling of perfume and, strangely enough, slaughterfish. “It is my experience that most of these men provide little benefit apart from that which can be gained by use of their sword arms.”

“Indeed,” said Prior Sanne.

Varla’s response was lost in the cheer that erupted from the crowd around them. Looking to the sands, she saw that the blue team gladiator had ended the battle by crushing his opponent’s skull with a very large hammer. Prior Sanne slumped into his chair like a man just told of his imminent demise.

“Better fortune, Sanne,” said Synnius Carbo, laughing.

“I hope that you have some gold on reserve, prior,” said Farenenre. “This next match should prove a far more worthwhile diversion than any you have seen thus far.”

“And why is that?” asked Varla.

Another voice spoke before Farenenre could. “Because the next match features the Tsaesci, Lady Direnni.”

Varla saw the color leave Farenenre’s face. The Altmer turned abruptly and pretended to be occupied viewing the porters in the act of removing the yellow team gladiator from the sands. She turned toward the source of the voice. Zurin Arctus moved past the guards and entered the Emperor’s box. He wore the robe of a mage, but he held himself erect, like a man accustomed to carrying a blade.

Emero stood. “Milady, I have the honor of presenting Master Zurin Arctus, the Imperial Battlemage.”

Arctus bowed his greeting. “It is indeed a privilege to finally make your acquaintance, Lady Direnni.”

Varla favored him with a smile. “I am honored, Master Arctus. I believe you have already met Emero.”

“Earlier, yes,” said Arctus, extending a nod toward Emero. He turned his attention back to Varla. “Your invitation was well-received. I look forward to dining with you this evening.”

“As do I,” said Varla.

“Now please, Lady Direnni,” said Arctus, “allow me the pleasure of introducing you to General Talos Stormcrown.”

Every eye in the Emperor’s box turned to greet General Talos as he entered trailed by Captain Alorius. Talos was resplendent in his armor, and he nodded a short greeting to each of the councilors before his eyes settled on Varla.

“Lady Direnni,” he said, “this meeting is long overdue.”

Varla was at a loss for words. This man exudes power the way that Farenenre exudes scent, she thought. When at last she found her tongue it was only to say, “it is indeed, general.” Why did I not invite this man to dinner instead of the battlemage?

Any answer to that unspoken question was interrupted by the blaring trumpets that heralded the arrival of the Emperor. The crowd craned their necks and lent their eyes to the box for a brief glimpse of the pointed head upon which sat the Red Diamond Crown. Cuhlecain swept into the box dwarfed by his retinue of guards and trailed by the undulating coils of the Chevalier Renald. To a man, the gathered guests stood to mark his arrival, which further shielded him from the view of his subjects.

The Emperor climbed into a raised facsimile of the ruby throne placed in the front center of the box. As he settled into the seat, those seeking his favor scrambled to find accommodation with easy access to the throne. It was a testament to Farenenre’s reflexes and agility that he was able to find himself seated on the Emperor’s right hand. Prior Sanne and Synnius Carbo engaged in a brief struggle whose intensity rivaled any seen thus far on the sands below to gain access to the chair on the Emperor’s left. It was a contest that ended with Carbo flattering the Emperor while Prior Sanne treated himself with a spell of healing and took his place in the seat two places removed.

Varla sat behind the Emperor, with Zurin Arctus to her right, and General Talos to her left. Arctus’ chair placed him directly behind Farenenre and, for the second time, Varla noted the clear discomfort that Arctus’ presence caused the foul-smelling Altmer. Arctus seemed to note it as well, and Varla was struck by the sudden realization that Arctus’ position did not come about by chance. She turned toward General Talos.

“I trust the Castellan is well, milady,” said Talos, in a voice that did not carry past their row of chairs.

Is he? “He is,” said Varla. Why would he inquire about my brother?

“These are dangerous times along the Reach,” said Zurin Arctus. “I hope whatever business drew him there was worth the effort.”

The Reach? What in Dagon’s name is he doing there? Talos and Arctus are formidable indeed if they know more of my brother’s movements than I. I cannot bluff my way past this. “Truth be told, I was unaware of my brother’s presence in the Reach. I cannot imagine what business drew him there.”

“I suspected as much,” said Talos. “A meeting with the King of Worms is not something that one is likely to advertise.”

The King of Worms? Has he lost his mind? She turned toward Emero. The surprise in her eyes was mirrored in his. A thought came upon her then with such intensity that it nearly undid her self-control. She felt her hands begin to shake. Where is Lattia?

“I imagine that is why he travels alone,” said Arctus, “with only a small retainer of guards to attend him.”

Word from Balfiera stated that he took the Pelladil to Glenumbria. If he now travels the Reach alone then he must have left Lattia with the ship. She felt relief flood through her, but it was quickly replaced by even more uncertainty. But the Pelladil has not returned to Balfiera. The question became a knife, stabbing into her mind until want of an answer drew her close to screaming it aloud. Where is my sister?

She felt the touch of Talos’ hand upon her arm. She turned and looked into concerned eyes.

“You have friends, milady,” he said. “Friends who are prepared to act should you find yourself at need.”

For a brief instant she actually believed that Talos could be of dragon blood. In that blood could be the key to saving Lattia . . . if she yet lives. She could not let him see her weakness. Her gaze moved past him towards the Tsaesci captain who was watching their exchange. In a single glance she understood the power that fueled Tsaesci legend. Even though his attention was rooted on General Talos, she was still held transfixed in wonder by the sight of the forked tongue and golden scales. But whereas most felt their own fear embodied in the sight of those slitted eyes, Varla saw past that to a well of sorrow and worry even more profound than her own.

The Emperor’s raised voice broke her from the trance.

“Begin the match,” he said.

_____

For several moments the Emperor’s words could find no purchase in Renald’s ears. The very man that they had traversed through half of Tamriel to find now sat but an arm’s length away, yet Renald was powerless to act. Could the old witch have been mistaken? Renald thought. Is this man the true heir to the Reman Dynasty? He saw the way he interacted with the woman, she trusted him. The Emperor and his toadies did not.

Renald could no longer trust his own judgement. What has my judgement wrought? I nearly killed my syffim in the cold of the mountains, and in the cave with the dragon. Now my judgement leads them to fight for their lives on Arena sands, and I am helpless to lend them aid. A better leader would have seen them to Necrom. He would have secured a ship to carry them back home. He would not have bent to the false hope held in the ramblings of a blind witch in the forest!

Neither of the men seated before him bore a resemblance to the Remans that he had served so long ago. They did not share the Reman’s eye color. They were both of a different size. Even the way that they carried themselves did not match the image of Reman III that Renald still carried in his mind. And neither man wore the Chim El-Adabal, even though the witch claimed that it had been recovered at Sancre Tor. False! Both of them, false! And now my syffim must pay the price for my repeated lapses in judgment!

“Begin the match,” the Emperor had said. Only now did those words ring through Renald’s ears. His tongue captured the scent of the impending storm, and his fingers closed around the hilt of his katana.

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Oct 14 2010, 09:48 AM