Old Habits Die Hard Part Three, The old dog practices new habits Options

[hazmick]

My armchair-seat belt is now firmly in place but it wasn't needed for this enjoyably relaxing chapter, Julian trying to explain her joining of the mages' guild was nice and you have done a great job with Orania and Cirroc. More please, but don't leave out the tea, it's my favourite!

This post has been edited by hazmick: Sep 9 2010, 04:27 PM

[mALX]

Lophophora, isn't Peyote addictive? I thought it was. (or was that just something they tell you as teens to keep you from...


I think Julian has a super-sensitivity to any drug, it could be because she was an addict previously or the reason why she became addicted before - but these visions seem to be fueled after she has taken a concoction each time. That does not take away the validity of the vision though. Native Americans used peyote in rituals to bring visions, did they not? Yet those visions foretold what decisions they would make in future events - and showed the events in advance.

Of course we have foreknowledge that she will need Akatosh, the One - so we know the vision is valid - but are they being fueled by the concoctions? And if so...wait! Are any of those you mentioned double agents for the Mythic Dawn? (Like Hans Black-Nail, etc. are?)


Wait! Let me get my coffee and re-read this !!!!!

[Acadian]

Oooh! I hope our wonderful (but s t u b b o r n) Julian follows her orders and rests that knee to optimize her recovery!

This piece showcased your superb skill throughout. I limited myself to just 3 quotes:

“And undo all the progress I’ve made?” his retort was oddly reassuring.

Wonderfully telling, clever and efficient.

I closed my eyes. “It’s more than just a cover,” I murmured into the steaming tea. After I drank down the last of it, I met her gaze again. “I know you don’t believe it, but I’ve got to learn how to live on my own.” I shook my head. “I’ve got to improve my restoration and alchemy skills. The Legion is no longer part of my life, but that doesn’t mean I will forget how to fight for the weak and helpless.” The cup in my lap, I looked down at my hands. “I’ve spent too many years serving Akatosh to turn my back on those teachings now.”

Well, there you go. If anyone ever asks, 'Who is Julian from Anvil?', you can simply paste this in as a reply.

“You’ll have time to think about it, Julian,” Orania said quietly, plucking the mug from my hands and rising. She set it softly down on the table, next to the vials. Dusting her hands on each other, she turned back to me, her expression dark. “I won’t tell the others about the Blades,” she said. “I’ll keep your secret.”

Simply wonderfully immersive writing - painting with words.

[Destri Melarg]

Hey, two days beats six weeks in traction any day. Julian should count her blessings. Maybe she can get Jauffre to run down to Bruma to fetch her some more tea and hot sweetrolls!

With a shake that brought myself back into the present, I looked at her.

This is my favorite sentence in this chapter. At first I thought it might be a mistake. But then I realized how you meant it, my-self.

I also love the symbolism in Akatosh keeping her from joining her family in the cottage. It fits in with both her former legion career and her new career as Hero of Kvatch, closer of Oblivion Gates.

And it seems that you have a great deal of company when it comes to regard for Julian. I keep seeing her pop up in other people’s fiction. Now, if there were only some way to get her into Interregnum . . .

[haute ecole rider]

@Remko: I liked that movie Gladiator for pretty much the same reasons you do (and admit to a certain fondness for Predator), even though I’m of the female species. It’s just that the tragedy of Maximus’s family lifts the movie up above the crowd, so to speak. As for whose hand that is on her shoulder, well, let’s say the dream will be explained in 15.6.

@Treydog: I wanted to bring home the fact that once you leave home, you can’t go back again. And yes, that is the Julian Credo, as borne by her actions. And again, you guess correctly - Orania has some history with the Blades, or rather with an agent. It is probably something left unspoken in this story.

@SubRosa: Sometimes simple is better. No, the Dragon is not Julian’s spirit guide, but rather some one who claimed her, as Azura has claimed Acadian’s Buffy.

@mALX: According to the Columbia Encyclopedia, peyote is not physiologically habit-forming the way better known psychedelic drugs such as cocaine, heroin, etc are. It is banned in many locales in the US because of its association with the Native American Ghost Dance - the whites were afraid the natives were going to run off the reservation and kill them all! Nowadays, if you are a member of the Native American Church, you can legally use peyote in your rituals. Julian does not have a sensitivity to drugs per se - her flash backs occur because she is at a loss as to what her new purpose in life is, and she is remembering things from long ago. The most recent sequence is technically not a flashback, but rather a message from the one Divine that has figured the most in her life - Akatosh.

@Acadian: Stubborn is right! I’m delighted as always at the things you notice and your insight into one of the most enduring characters I’ve ever written.

@Destri: The hot sweetrolls would be cold by the time Jauffre gets back from Bruma! I see you noticed the symbolism of Akatosh holding her back from entering the cottage - it is not quite what you think, but your impression fits the entire concept just fine. As for Interregnum, well there is a common link, or rather four of them: Casnar, Valdemar, Alain, and Rielus. How to connect the dots over four hundred years? Hmm . . .

Julian suffers through enforced inactivity - the price one has to pay for recovery! This is a bit long at over 2300 words, but I think you’ll enjoy this. No seat belts required, I think. But do grab your favorite beverage, sit back and enjoy!

****************
Chapter 15.5 Healing Among the Blades

“Good morning, Julian,” Roliand greeted me as he ducked around the curtain that shielded my cot from the rest of the barracks. “Paint is doing fine,” he smiled. “Though I think he misses his daily apple from you.”

I miss seeing Paint, too. I picked up the round globe from my breakfast tray and tossed it to him. “Here, take it for Paint.”

Roliand caught it effortlessly and chuckled. “Ah, but it’s not from you.”

“Pretend you’re me, then,” I countered, keeping my face straight.

The tall Nord shook his close-cropped head. “I’m not as pretty as you, Julian, but I’ll try.” I laughed as he disappeared. Pretty? Me? Yeah, right. I drank down a dose of Orania’s potion, and chased it with the last of the tea. It was the second day of my confinement, and the dull ache in my knee had nearly disappeared.

Jena entered my makeshift cubicle. “Finished with breakfast?”

“Yes,” I answered. “And I took the potion already.” Jena took the teapot and refilled my cup, then took the breakfast tray from my lap. “Thanks,” I added as she turned to leave.

“No problem at all!” she said over her shoulder. “After all, we’re Blade sisters, aren’t we?” I smiled as she left. Caroline and Jena had been taking turns bringing me my meals and making sure I had everything I needed. After being out alone for the past couple of weeks, it felt good to be back among soldiers again, like a well-worn cuirass that rubbed only in the right places.

******************
“Nirim: ‘Only - only what if it ain’t a ghost, Theophon. What if it’s the same creature, and it’s still alive - and it ain’t ate nothing since five years ago -’” Belisarius’s voice was hushed in the quiet of the late afternoon gloom. Outside I could hear the wind picking up, which added to the spookiness of the play he was reading to me.

“The footsteps begin a slow, heavy stomp up the stairs, though whatever it is, we cannot see it. Nirim notices the light beginning to dim from the lantern despite Theophon frantically trying to fix it.” Belisarius’s voice had taken on a neutral narrative tone, before switching to a tone of panic. “Nirim: ‘You said you refilled the lamp!’”

I closed my eyes against the shudder that crawled up my spine. It’s just a play, Julian, just a play.

“The light goes out entirely, and the stage is filled with darkness. Nirim: ‘You promised me you refilled the lamp!’ More footsteps and a horrible, horrible howl. The men scream. The curtain falls.” Belisarius closed the book and looked at me.

Suppressing the tremor that ran up my spine at his effective reading of the play, I smiled at him. “Thanks, Belisarius. I hope I never see that play!” It makes me think of my mother and brother. Only I hope they’re not ghosts.

“It’s pretty scary when you read it,” Belisarius cocked his head, his gaze drifting upwards. “Especially when there’s a snowstorm outside.”

“I think I liked Beggar better,” I responded. “Though Glories and Laments was interesting.” That book described Ceyatatar, the Ayleid ruin I had passed on the Gold Road just northeast of Greenmead Cave.

“If you like the history books, there’s The Battle of Sancre Tor,” Belisarius responded. “I read it once, years ago. Unfortunately, we don’t have a copy of it here, but it’s a fascinating read.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open for it, then,” I promised. “If I find a copy, I’ll bring it to Cloud Ruler.”

*****************
“Hello?” Ferrum’s voice reached me from the other side of the curtain. “Are you decent, Julian?” Caroline and I exchanged amused glances.

“Yes, I am, Ferrum,” I answered. “Come in if you’re not practicing.” Caroline stifled a snicker as she switched teapots and moved to the flap. She pulled the curtain back to let the tall Breton in before leaving with the empty pot.

Ferrum sat down on the stool next to me. “I wanted to tell you that I found the Wolf when I was cleaning your gear,” he said. “I’m sorry that it can’t be repaired anymore.”

I felt another twinge at the reminder. “I’m sorry, too,” I answered. “But it’s only a light iron shield, not meant to withstand clannfears and the like.” Not to mention the abuse it took from that Orc deserter in Fort Grief. “I’m actually surprised it held up so long.” I shifted against the pillows at my back. “I used to go through a shield a month when I was on combat duty in Skyrim. And those were steel shields.”

“I can only imagine what that Wolf means to you, Julian,” Ferrum met my gaze. “I understand it was hard for you to leave a certain Kvatch Guard behind when you closed your first Oblivion Gate.” He glanced up as Captain Steffan pulled the curtain back and entered to stand behind him. “Captain Steffan told me that in the Legion you leave no man behind. To do that at Kvatch must have rubbed you the wrong way.”

“Yes, it did,” I took a deep breath against the reminder of the tortured guardsman. May peace be with you, wherever you are, Menien Goneld. “I carried that Wolf to remind myself of the courage of the Kvatch Guard in the face of a terrifying unknown.” I closed my eyes for a moment. “When it broke, I couldn’t bring myself to leave it behind in the Deadlands. In the Legion, we don’t leave our signum on the battlefield either.”

“That’s what I thought,” Ferrum nodded agreement. “Roliand got me some wolf pelts that he had tanned, and I wrapped the pieces up. Captain Steffan showed me your armory chest, and that’s where I put it.” He regarded me for a moment. “I noticed you have another Wolf in there.”

“You’re right,” I admitted. “And my leather cuirass is beyond repair, too.”

*********************
“How’s the knee tonight, Julian?” Martin asked as he and Baurus sat down at the small table next to my cot. Baurus loaded my plate with ham slices, roasted squash covered with melted butter, and sautéed greens while the Emperor poured more tea for the three of us. They had been sharing the evening meals with me, keeping me company.

“Pretty good, Sire,” I answered. “But I’m waiting until Cirroc lets me out of bed. One day is too long, let alone three!” Baurus grinned at the impatient tone in my voice.

“Well, we’ll find out tomorrow if you can start walking around,” he responded encouragingly. I had a feeling he knew exactly how I felt about being a convalescent. Our plates filled, we took a moment for grace, then started in on the hearty fare I had come to associate with Cloud Ruler Temple.

After the first couple of bites, I glanced at Martin. “How are things coming along with the Mysterium Xarxes?” I caught the glance Baurus sent him. Martin’s looking haggard these days. Is he still having trouble sleeping?

His hazel eyes pensive, Martin shrugged evasively. “It’s coming along slowly,” he answered. “Though I know the Daedric script, it’s very difficult to translate the meaning into Cyrodiilic.” After another bite of the ham, he met my gaze. “I heard your Wolf is beyond repair. I’m sorry to hear that, Julian.”

“It has served me well, Sire,” I answered. Martin nodded.

“As Kvatch has served the Empire,” he added. “But all things come to an end.”

“Sometimes I wish I had seen Kvatch before - “ my voice trailed off. Martin smiled.

“It was something in its day,” he murmured. “The food vendors in the market always had something delicious to eat, no matter what mood you were in. The Count would walk around the city every day after holding audience in the Great Hall. He knew most of us by name.”

“That makes his passing even more tragic,” I mused. “Such civic leaders are few and far between, Sire.”

“True, that,” Martin agreed. He met my gaze. “Did you know Savlian Matius was one of his bodyguards?” Both Baurus and I looked at him in surprise. Though Baurus had never met Matius, I had told him of the man’s courage and tenacity in holding the line against the daedra, and his compassion for the refugees.

“Bodyguard?” I repeated. “I thought he was Captain of the Kvatch Guard!”

Martin shook his head. “Only by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” We were silent a few moments longer, finishing the last of the meal. “But he showed exceptional leadership during the most terrible crisis Kvatch has ever faced. No wonder the remaining guards looked to him for orders and guidance.”

I recalled how Matius had pursued his goal of rescuing Count Goldwine from the daedra. “If he was the Count’s bodyguard, no wonder he was so determined to reach the castle,” I muttered. Baurus sent me a dark look. I knew he was reliving his own failure as bodyguard to Emperor Uriel. “Matius took the news of the Count’s death very hard,” I added. “Now I understand -”

***********
Finally, on the third day, after tending to the healing wound on my right knee, Cirroc placed a less bulky brace on my leg and handed me a sturdy crutch. Startled, I saw the smile in his black eyes.

“I can get up?” I asked, hardly daring to believe my confinement was over.

“Yes,” the Redguard healer said, his smile reaching his generous lips. “You still need to keep weight off of that knee for another day or so, but you can now get up and start walking around. The brace,” he pointed at the contraption on my leg, “is to keep you from flexing it too far. Keep the foot elevated when you are sitting or laying down, and don’t stay on your feet too long at a time.”

With Cirroc’s strong hands steadying my efforts, I struggled to stand up from the low cot. The pain in my knee, which had subsided to a mere ache, flared up as I gingerly put my weight on the right leg. With just a slight wobble, I managed to get the crutch under my right shoulder, taking the stress off the injured leg.

Determined to get outside, I listened intently to Cirroc’s instructions on maneuvering with the crutch as we made our way into the great hall. Martin turned from his study table, and Baurus saluted me, as I clumped past them for the front doors, Cirroc shadowing me. Belisarius put down his ever-present book and dashed ahead of me to open the left panel, grinning as I flashed him my gratitude.

My momentum carried me out onto the plaza before I could stop. The clashing sound of swords ceased as Pelagius and Fortis stopped their sparring to watch. Lifting my face to the sun, I closed my eyes against its dazzling light and breathed deeply of the frosty air. Never had the cold made me so happy to be alive. My right toes rested against the cobblestones and I looked up into the sky to the west of the sun, my vision filled with infinite blue.

Strength coiled within me, and with it came laughter. Laughter at being alive, at being outside, at the biting cold that was fast numbing my bones. Laughter at my breath puffing visibly in the air, the tall mountains surrounding Cloud Ruler Temple, and the diminishing of the pain that had worn me down for four years.

Akatosh, thank you for being here for me.

I brought my gaze down to see Grandmaster and Captain striding towards me from the gate wall. Past them, Pelagius and Fortis saluted me with their blades before returning to their constant sparring.

“It’s good to see you up and about, Julian,” Jauffre said, his light blue eyes sparking with good humor. “You’ve made a lot of progress in the past couple of days.” A shadow moved through his gaze and was gone.

“It’s good to be outside, sir,” I answered, wondering if I had imagined that darkness. A whicker drew my gaze over my right shoulder towards the stables. “If you’ll excuse me, sirs,” I included Steffan. The two men nodded. Pivoting awkwardly around on the crutch, I hobbled towards the stable.

A brown and white form appeared in the shadow of the open stable door, then Paint came trotting out to me, tossing his head and snorting. He pranced around me, making me laugh again, then stopped in front of me when I reached out my left hand to him. He insisted on sniffing me all over, blowing on the brace covering my right knee, before he would let me touch him. Then he sidled a little, turning his shoulder to me so I could scratch the sweet spot at the base of his neck near the withers. Amused by his antics and his not so subtle hint, I dug my fingertips into his crest, making him arch his neck and wobble his upper lip in the equine expression of bliss.

“Julian!” I heard Steffan’s voice behind me. I turned my head and caught the blur of his hand as he tossed a round object at me. My left hand came up and caught it, and I recognized the apple and looked back at him. The Captain’s grin flashed white in the shadows of his helm. I nodded my gratitude, and bit into the sweet, crunchy flesh of the fruit, sharing it with Paint, keeping the juice from my bites only for myself.

When the apple was all gone, Cirroc touched my shoulder. “Time to go inside, Julian,” he said quietly. “Don’t overdo things the first day out of bed.” His eyes were kind, and smiling. With a rub on Paint’s long nose, I pushed his head towards the stable. The gelding touched my cheek with his soft muzzle, then turned and walked back to his shelter, as sedate as a Prior’s mount.

[hazmick]

A nice chapter to enjoy with a steaming cup of tea!

Belisarius! yay! A good book (Or post on a fanfiction site ) will take your mind off almost anything. If Julian is ever in need of something to read, the Argonian sitting next to me recommends 'The Argonian Account' series.

Do I detect a little romance with Roliand lol.

More! please?

[Acadian]

What a lovely time!

On the length, your warning, and breaking the story into multiple separated scenes evaporated any concerns. No worries.

The tall Nord shook his close-cropped head. “I’m not as pretty as you, Julian, but I’ll try.” I laughed as he disappeared. Pretty? Me? Yeah, right.

Argghh! Julian, can you not see what others do?

The play-reading scene was very clever. Ah, I begin to sniff some foreshadowing now at the mention of Sancre Tor perhaps?

Wonderful full honors and closure for the trusty shield that served Julian so well.

Baurus loaded my plate with ham slices, roasted squash covered with melted butter, and sautéed greens while the Emperor poured more tea for the three of us. They had been sharing the evening meals with me, keeping me company.

This does several things for me. Firstly and most importantly, you fed me - and a wonderful meal it was! Secondly, it shows how important Julian is to Martin and the Blades; they care enough about her to take their meals with her at her bed. Thirdly, when viewed within the chapter overall, it is one of many gentle ways you have showed how much Julian's Blade brothers and sisters care for her. Meals and tea from her sisters, salutes from her brothers, caring words and actions from all. . . . I'm sure that Julian cannot help but feel a warmth of belonging - I hope that feeling brings her some comfort.

The reflections on Kvatch were powerfully poignant. Your vision of Kvatch prior to its destruction was most welcome. . . especially for a young elf that is yet to realize she may someday assist in the rebuilding of that city.

Strength coiled within me, and with it came laughter. Laughter at being alive, at being outside, at the biting cold that was fast numbing my bones. Laughter at my breath puffing visibly in the air, the tall mountains surrounding Cloud Ruler Temple, and the diminishing of the pain that had worn me down for four years.

Beautiful!

Yay, Paint!

Ok, shut up, Acadian, before you write a book to tell Rider how much you love her story.

[treydog]

There are many things to like about this one. The rest during Julian’s convalescence is welcome after all those Gates.

I like the revelation about Savlian- it makes a great deal of sense. And the references to the Kvatch Wolf are also quite symbolic- not just of the defenders’ courage, but if Julian’s journey from addict to Blades sister. She has earned that shield many times over, whether she likes to admit it or not.

The personalities you give the other Blades are also a treat- none of that “third spear-carrier from the left” in your story. And that adds tremendous depth.

Normally I try not to quote large passages, but the following must be taken as a whole:

Lifting my face to the sun, I closed my eyes against its dazzling light and breathed deeply of the frosty air. Never had the cold made me so happy to be alive. My right toes rested against the cobblestones and I looked up into the sky to the west of the sun, my vision filled with infinite blue.

Strength coiled within me, and with it came laughter. Laughter at being alive, at being outside, at the biting cold that was fast numbing my bones. Laughter at my breath puffing visibly in the air, the tall mountains surrounding Cloud Ruler Temple, and the diminishing of the pain that had worn me down for four years.

By the same token, I will not attempt to improve upon that perfect, lyrical text by trying to analyze it- I will just admire it.

And finally, the moment with Paint was simply wonderful.

[SubRosa]

“But all things come to an end.”
This sounds quite prophetic, especially coming from Martin.

Very good twist with the background of Matius being a bodyguard rather than the official captain of the Kvatch Guard. As Julian noted, it brings his determination much more into focus. Likewise the reaction of Baurus. The first thing I thought of was how similar the situations.

A nice calm segment that moves us through the early stages of Julian's recovery, leading to the elation that comes with finally having a sense of belonging and purpose in life once more under the outspread wings of the dragon. Finally, a reunion with one of my favorite characters of the JF, Paint. I really love the depth that you are able to put into your animals. It is one of the things I envy about your writing.

[mALX]

This chapter is filled with rich dialogue and natural flowing scenes. I love that they tossed the apple for Paint to her and she caught it - My fave part is when she actually brings the apple to Paint (of course) - but ARGH !!!

Pretty? Me? Yeah, right.

ARGH !!!! Julian is beautiful !!!!

[Destri Melarg]

Let’s see:

- hazmick seized on the fondness that I too detect between Julian and Roliand. I’m not sure if it’s romantic or not, but I can feel it just the same.

- Acadian already covered the aspect of Julian’s belonging amongst her brothers and sisters in the Blades, and of how important she is to them.

- trey gave voice to the same thoughts I feel about Julian and her beloved Kvatch Wolf. And he quoted my favorite passage from this chapter. ‘My vision filled with infinite blue’ . . . perfect!

- ‘Rosa nailed the poignancy of the similarity in circumstance between Baurus and Savlian Matius. I could feel Baurus’ pain even as Martin continued speaking.

- And mALX even skewered the apple!

Not much left for me to do. Post length is irrelevant when something reads this well.

MORE!

[haute ecole rider]

@hazmick: I agree about the good book!

@Acadian: Julian may be a tough old pilus, but she is still a woman, and women seldom believe they are as pretty as others think they are! The paragraph(s) you and Trey quote are my favorite parts of that segment. Oh, yes, and the part about Paint, too. That was right out of my gelding’s book.

@Trey: I’m glad you liked the little bit about Savlian Matius’s background, and that he and Baurus have something in common there. I wanted to show why Julian has so much respect for the two men, though they have never met each other.

@SubRosa: That’s what Martin said, and as I wrote it, I thought oooh! I’m glad you enjoyed the interlude with Paint as much as Julian did. Paint is a lot of fun to write.

@mALX: I’m glad you enjoyed the conversations. I love using dialogue to ‘tell’ when I’m not ‘showing.’ It just feels natural.

@Destri: Both Julian and Roliand love horses. Whether they love each other or not, that’s for me (and JulIan) to know and you (and hazmick) to wonder! I appreciate your comments as always.

With Martin’s help, Julian experiences a startling revelation. This is the end of Chapter 15. With Chapter 16 we will return to the drudgery we euphemistically call the Main Quest.

******************
Chapter 15.6 Akatosh’s Claim

A couple days later, I chafed at the bit again, this time anxious to get rid of the knee brace and the crutch and start practicing the Way of the Crane once more. Cirroc agreed it would be a good way for me to regain my fitness, but insisted I wait until he was satisfied that the knee had fully healed. “It may feel great now,” he warned me, “but it isn’t strong enough yet for the lifestyle you are accustomed to leading.”

Returning to the Great Hall after my daily visit with Paint, I spotted Martin hunched over the study table. I hobbled over to him, sitting down opposite him and surveying the growing pile of books. Deep in his study, Martin did not notice me at first. I waited patiently, for there was something I wanted to discuss with him in his role as a priest of Akatosh.

As he shifted his attention to scribble in his notes, Martin noticed my presence. “Oh, Julian, I’m sorry,” he met my gaze. “I didn’t see you sitting there.”

“No wonder, Sire,” I tapped the stack of books between us. “I can barely see over this pile.” His hazel eyes crinkled, rewarding me with a flash of humor. Then the weariness and care returned to his expression.

“What can I do for you, Julian?” he asked. I hesitated, regarding his careworn face. Would I be adding to his burdens? “Out with it,” he insisted.

“Something’s been on my mind lately, Sire,” I responded. “I’m hoping you can be a priest of Akatosh for me.”

Martin straightened up and set his graphite stylus down. “Of course, Julian.” He looked around, then rose to his feet, stretching his spine. “I’ve got an urge for fresh air,” he remarked, picking up his fur-lined cloak. “Mind heading out with me?”

“Of course, Sire,” I rose to my feet, not quite gracefully. Baurus fell into step behind as we headed outside. Martin led me across the Plaza to the gate wall, where we walked up to the western watch tower. He nodded at Baurus, who dropped back onto the walkway and turned his back to us. At Baurus’s signal, Achille, in the eastern tower, turned from his watch and walked back to the Plaza, leaving us alone.

For a few minutes, we stood quietly, looking out over the dramatic vista spread out below us. I could just barely see the spire of White Gold Tower to the south, blued by the distance. “Sometimes,” Martin spoke into the crystalline air, “I just like to come out here and see.” I glanced at him, but his gaze remained on the land spread out below us. Looking down the mountainside at the walls of Bruma, I remained silent.

See what? I lifted my gaze to the faraway horizon, barely distinct against the blue sky above. The sky? The mountains? Bruma? The forest? As I gazed, a strange sensation crept over me, a feeling that my eyes were filling up with the beauty that was Tamriel. Even the air was full of heartbreaking splendor. It seemed to be the perfect counterpoint to the sight of fire and blood of the Deadlands that still haunted my vision from time to time.

“What is it, Julian?” Martin asked after several moments.

I blinked to bring myself back to reality and took a deep breath. Where to begin? “When I first met your father Uriel, Sire,” I began slowly, “I felt something here,” I pressed my fist into my belly, just under my breastbone. “At first I thought it was nausea, because, believe me, I was horribly sick at the time.”

Because Martin did so, I kept my eyes on the horizon. Somehow I knew he was listening to my halting words. “But when it moved, that smith’s hammer stopped.” I stopped, trying to remember when it happened again. “It moved again when Jauffre asked me to find you, and when I was looking into the fire at Kvatch, the fire that was the Oblivion Gate.”

Martin turned from the beautiful vista before us to look at me. I kept my gaze on the vista below while I considered what to say next. “Every time I faced a fork in the path before me,” I mused softly, “I would feel it.”

“Did it scare you?” Martin asked. I shook my head.

“Rather, Sire, it seemed I found the courage to make my choice and go on.” My right knee started complaining from standing still so long. I shuffled to my left and leaned against the corner post, taking some of the weight off of the still healing leg. The crutch cradled in my crossed arms, I watched my breaths dissipate in the frigid air.

“What does it feel like, this something?” his voice was very quiet.

What does it feel like indeed? “Something coiling, Sire, not tightening or loosening, just turning.” Considering the sensation for a moment, I found the words I needed. “Like a snake shifting in its sleep.” Now I found the courage to meet Martin’s gaze. “But I’m not Tsaesci at all,” I muttered defensively. His brows lifted.

“Is that what you thought?”

With a shrug, I looked away from his level stare. “It occurred to me, Sire, yes, since I never knew my father. But my mother was a low-born Redguard, no noble would have taken up with her -” I stopped myself, silently cursing myself for my stupidity. And what is Martin, but born of a low-class Imperial? Or was he?

“It’s happened before,” Martin’s voice was amused, not offended. “Besides, no one knows for certain that Akaviri are capable of interbreeding with Tamrielic men or mer. It could just be a claim by certain noble families to raise their own status.” He watched me silently for a few moments. “Well, then, if it’s not Tsaesci blood or power sitting in your gut, what do you think it is?”

Suddenly afraid of his scorn, I turned my head to meet Martin’s steady, honest gaze. “Sire, when I drank Orania’s sleeping potion, so Cirroc could work on my knee -” Unable to look at him anymore, I closed my eyes and turned my face away, “I went back home, I mean home.” I told him of my vision, of my family’s homestead in the hills above Anvil. Of my mother and brother as they had appeared when I last saw them alive. How I stood before them in my old, grey self.

My voice caught with remembered grief as I told him how they had left me standing in the garden outside that cottage, how I had tried to follow them, but a scaled, taloned hand held me back. I told him of the Dragon-shaped shadow behind mine, falling across the amber grass in the westering sun. Hearing the tears again in my voice, I stopped and turned to look at Martin once more.

He stared at me, his face pale beneath its wind-tan, his hazel eyes wide. Taking a slow breath, I pushed myself off the corner post, placing the crutch into my right armpit. “Sire, what is it?” I asked him. He shook his head. “Please, Sire, you’re scaring me!”

“Where are your mother and brother?” he managed to get the words out in a whisper, as if he already knew the answer. I couldn’t hide the flinch in my eyes.

“Dead,” I said. “Twenty-nine years ago. Goblins tore them apart in our home.”

“And you saw them as they appeared, before their deaths?” Martin murmured, some of the color coming back into his face as he considered the implications of my vision. “Yet you stood before them as you are today?” I nodded. Martin turned away from me and stepped to the low wall of the watch tower, sitting on the edge and leaning forward, hands on knees, his eyes on the floor.

Beyond him, I caught the glint off Baurus’s helmet as he glanced at us. The Redguard’s dark gaze was hidden by his helm, but I could sense that inscrutability emanating off of him. That scared me even more than Martin’s reaction.

“Julian,” Martin’s tone became very quiet. “That potion Orania gave you had an unexpected effect. She watched you while Cirroc worked. You did fine, apparently, until Cirroc was just finishing up. Then Orania reported that you had stopped breathing.” He looked up at me then. “Much like you’re not breathing now,” he reminded me.

I inhaled sharply. “Are you saying -” I couldn’t get the words out.

“Your heart slowed down, almost stopped.” Martin continued, his gaze holding me up against the unnerving shock I felt. “Captain Steffan, who was assisting Cirroc, said your pulse was almost too weak to feel.”

A wave of vertigo spun my vision as I turned away and stared out at the far horizon. “I died?”

“You came very close to it,” Martin responded. “But before Cirroc could cast a restoration spell of any kind, Steffan said your pulse was coming back.”

“Does it have anything to do with this?” I shoved my clenched fist into my solar plexus. As I spoke the words, I knew the answer. Oh yes, it has everything to do with this.

“Did you see the hand on your shoulder?” Martin asked. “The hand holding you back.”

I shook my head. “I felt it, Sire,” I answered. Unable to suppress a shiver, I turned back to Martin. “Am I losing my sanity?” Did Sheogorath give me more than just that cursed Wabbajack?

“I don’t think so,” Martin shook his head, but his gaze on me still held some wonder.

“So what does all this mean, Sire?” Again, I reminded myself to take a breath.

“I’m not sure,” Martin spoke slowly, straightening up and stepping over to stand before me. “But I believe you’ve been chosen by Akatosh himself.” Again dizziness seized me, and Martin gripped my left shoulder to steady me. “Had you followed your mother and brother into that cottage, you would have died,” he continued, his implacable tone somehow soothing. “But Akatosh kept you back, because he still has need of you.”

His hand gripped my shoulder tighter when I shook my head. “I’ve served Akatosh for twenty-five years in the Legion, Sire,” I muttered. “I’ve never felt him in all that time.” I met Martin’s hazel gaze. “Most certainly not when I was drunk and addicted. Why now?”

Martin considered my question thoughtfully. “Indeed, who knows? You say you first felt this when Uriel Septim spoke to you in the Prison?” I nodded. “Would you say that was your lowest point, then?”

“It was the bottom for me, Sire,” I answered. “When I surrendered to Maro, I fully expected to die. Gods, I wanted to die.”

“You were at your weakest, then,” Martin eased his hold on my shoulder, lowering his hand away. “You were most open to Akatosh.”

“But why me, Sire?” I slumped back against the corner post. “I never amounted to much of anything in the Legion.”

“Are you certain of that?” Martin countered. “From what Baurus told me about your Legion record, you were pilus prior of the Ninth Cohort in the Sixth. You were trusted with raw recruits and poor fighters. Time and time again, you whipped them into fighting soldiers.” He shook his head. “Over forty percent of your century moved on into the First Cohort of other Legions. That’s an impressive figure, Julian.”

He smiled at my startled look. “What, you think I don’t know what the Ninth Cohort is in any Legion - the rawest and the worst fighters? The dregs of the Legion? Good only for arrow fodder?” His words hit close to home, making me shift uncomfortably. “Any soldier who found himself or herself in your cohort didn’t stay there long, and more importantly, most of them lived to move into more prestigious cohorts.”

Martin stepped back, still holding my eyes with his own. “You are much, much wiser than you give yourself credit for,” he continued. “Your mother named you well, when she named you for Julianos.”

“Then how come Julianos hasn’t claimed me, Sire?” Coming to terms with Martin’s statement was still difficult. “Why Akatosh?”

“Ah, but Akatosh is the Father God,” Martin responded. “From him comes all the other Divines.” He smiled again at me. “Who knows why you?” he repeated my question. “What matters is that he claimed you, Julian.”

“Do you really believe it, Sire?”

Martin smiled, his face transformed. “Did I believe you when you told me I am Uriel’s son?” As I gazed at his face, I saw a new serenity beneath the weariness of long hours of studying. I smiled in spite of my inner turmoil and shook my head.

“Do you believe it of yourself now, Sire?” I countered. He nodded. I straightened myself off the corner post and took a deep breath. “Then I won’t fail you, Sire.” Again something shifted beneath the end of my breastbone. Then a sudden realization hit me. “Oh, by the Gods!” I exclaimed to myself.

“What is it?” Martin frowned at me.

“I hate being called ‘Hero of Kvatch,’ Sire,” I admitted. “But if people find out about this -” I groaned.

This time Martin’s eyes crinkled in humor at me. “Then you must accept it, Julian. But they won’t hear of it from me.”

“Promise, Sire?” I could hear the plea in my voice.

Martin nodded, then turned his head towards the Blade standing a few paces away. “Baurus!” My first friend of my new life turned and saluted Martin, slamming gauntleted fist against his breastplate.

“Sire!”

“Did you hear any of that, Baurus?” Martin kept his gaze on me.

“Heard what, Sire?” Baurus responded impassively. “I thought the two of you were just admiring the view, Sire.”

Martin chuckled. “Good, Baurus, keep it that way.”

“As you command, Sire,” Again Baurus saluted Martin.

[D.Foxy]

Martin nodded, then turned his head towards the Blade standing a few paces away. “Baurus!” My first friend of my new life turned and saluted Martin, slamming gauntleted fist against his breastplate.

“Sire!”

“Did you hear any of that, Baurus?” Martin kept his gaze on me.

“Heard what, Sire?” Baurus responded impassively. “I thought the two of you were just admiring the view, Sire.”

Martin chuckled. “Good, Baurus, keep it that way.”

“As you command, Sire,” Again Baurus saluted Martin.


Now this Baurus is a man after my own heart - I've seen him in real life, in my line of work...

.... soldiers are both born, and (self) made.

[hazmick]

I like your version of Martin, he is a hard-working kinda guy who is developing into an Emperor before our eyes. I do hope, however, that someone will slip a copy of 'The Lusty Argonian Maid' into his pile of books--he needs a laugh.

[treydog]

You again force me to break my rule against large block quotes with this one:

For a few minutes, we stood quietly, looking out over the dramatic vista spread out below us. I could just barely see the spire of White Gold Tower to the south, blued by the distance. “Sometimes,” Martin spoke into the crystalline air, “I just like to come out here and see.” I glanced at him, but his gaze remained on the land spread out below us. Looking down the mountainside at the walls of Bruma, I remained silent.

See what? I lifted my gaze to the faraway horizon, barely distinct against the blue sky above. The sky? The mountains? Bruma? The forest? As I gazed, a strange sensation crept over me, a feeling that my eyes were filling up with the beauty that was Tamriel. Even the air was full of heartbreaking splendor. It seemed to be the perfect counterpoint to the sight of fire and blood of the Deadlands that still haunted my vision from time to time.

You draw the parallel between Martin and Julian beautifully. “Son’s companion,” indeed.

“Heard what, Sire?” Baurus responded impassively. “I thought the two of you were just admiring the view, Sire.”

Scary folk, those Blades. And I have a feeling (perhaps a flutter of leathery wings behind me) that Julian will soon be back where the fire is the hottest.

[SubRosa]

Ahh, so now we finally learn the fate of Julian's family. It seems that goblins are her nemesis.

Also, a good touch in bringing out more about Julian's service in the Ninth Cohort. A good bit of world-building there by incorporating the role of that irl cohort into the fiction. You always mentioned it before, but Martin's words really bring it home. Dragonguts Julian it is then!

“Like a snake shifting in its sleep.”
Or a dragon...

[Acadian]

By Akatosh! She's a hero!

So, I gather Julian's knee injury was inflicted by goblins that ended her service. Now I realize that goblins claimed her family as well.

Oooh! This was just reading at its best. I curled up and was swept away to the rails of CRT. Loads and loads of stuff in this, and all of it yummy!

[mALX]

ARGH! When I was first reading that chapter I wondered if she had died because her hair was white! And the reason she couldn't follow them into the house was because she was being brought back to life !!!! ARGH!!! I should have followed my first instinct and not tried to think of a different aspect to it !!!!!

What you have done with Martin and Baurus is nothing short of amazing. They have come to life. Julian has been as alive as any of us you have written her so well - Awesome Writing Nauty Hauty !!!!!!!!!

[Cardboard Box]

And it's writing of this calibre that causes idiots like me to unthinkingly use his characters without permission.

[Destri Melarg]

New revelations!! Julian’s family was slain by goblins?! Now we see why her failure against the Goblin Shaman led to both her dismissal from the Legion, and her subsequent descent into the personal Oblivion of addiction. Powerful stuff!

The fact that the Dragon held Julian from death itself makes her ‘dream’ resonate even more. She now finds herself entering the rarified territory inhabited by the Nerevarine and the Eternal Champion! She has been claimed as a knight in the eternal game of chess being played by Dagon and Akatosh. And she was uncomfortable being known as the ‘Hero of Kvatch’! It is too bad that Baurus is such an exemplary Blade. If I were there I would have left melted snow in the heat of my rush to Bruma to spread the good news!