Old Habits Die Hard Part Four, old habits really do die hard Options

[haute ecole rider]

@treydog: I wanted to establish Bravil as a friendlier place now that Julian has confronted her past there and overcome it. But we will see more of the less savory side of it again. As for Frederick’s interest in Julian, she prefers to see it as camaraderie.

@mALX: Don’t worry, you haven’t missed anything. Read on for Marz’s assessment of Paint’s condition!

@SubRosa: I wouldn’t know about Isabeau’s nighttime activities. As for home, well, it’s not Bravil, but it’s a place where she now has friends. Home is a place still ahead on the road Julian has picked for herself.

@Acadian: I knew you would enjoy seeing old friends again!

@Destri: Thanks for the kudos!

Julian finally learns why her convalescence spells haven’t been working on Paint.
****************
Chapter 20.2 Marz and Paint

After enjoying a pot of tea and the latest news around Bravil with Kud-Ei, I took Thornblade to Ita Rienus for evaluation. Her brown eyes lit up as I carefully drew the serrated blade from its specially designed scabbard. “Oh, my!” she held her hands out as I laid the hilt in her grip. “This is the Indarys ancestral sword! How did you come by it?”

“It was a gift from Count Indarys,” I replied. Ita narrowed her gaze at me when I didn’t say any more.

“I heard his son closed the Oblivion Gate outside Cheydinhal,” she remarked with mock casualness. “And I heard a certain white-haired Redguard was with him.” She chuckled when I looked away from her. “Very well, why are you showing me this?”

“What do you know of it, ma’am?” I asked. “T’would seem to me that those serrations on the blade would be difficult to maintain and repair, let alone keep it sharp.”

“You would think so!” Ita exclaimed, turning from me and swinging the sword, testing its balance. “But it’s enchanted with an armor damaging effect. Because it does more damage to most plain armor than any steel plate could do to it, it keeps its edge -” she touched one of the spiny protrusions along the blade, “and its thorns.” She handed it back to me. “You’ll need to keep it recharged, of course, but it has a very reasonable magicka cost. You’ll get sixty uses out of it before you need to find a couple of filled greater or grand soul gems.”

Carefully I slid the blade back into its sheath. “Thanks very much, ma’am,” I said.

***********************
It was nearly dusk when I reached the Chapel. Marz sat near the front, praying silently. I sat quietly next to her, my gaze on the last of the sunbeams filtering through the stained glass windows at the west end of the nave.

I sensed her head turn toward me. “Ah, Julian,” she greeted me in that wonderful melodic voice of hers that eased all my cares and burdens. “Welcome back to Bravil. It ssemss to me that you have recovered from your old woundss.”

“That’s right, Marz,” I answered softly. “Thanks to the healer of Talos, and to Akatosh’s will, my knee is restored.”

“Praisse the Nine!” Marz exclaimed softly, joy in her voice. “Cirroc is a sskilled chiurgeon as well as a compassionate healer. I am glad he wass able to assist you.” She regarded me a moment longer. “But your heart iss heavy. What troubless you?”

“It is Paint, ma’am,” I answered softly. “My horse was attacked by a will o’wisp eleven days ago. I cast convalescence on him multiple times, but he still lacks his usual energy. He has little appetite, and is still weak and slow.”

“Oh, dear,” Marz hissed softly. “Where iss he?”

“With Branck and Bienne at the Bay Roan Stable,” I answered. “They said they would see what they can do for him.” I looked down at my clasped hands, realizing how tightly my fingers clenched themselves.

“Then let’ss go vissit him, shall we?” Marz rose to her feet. Without another word, we walked out of the Chapel into the cool evening. The sun had slipped behind the hills to the west, and its light was fast fading from the sky. Ahead of us, in the eastern sky, stars twinkled in the dusk. Masser and Secunda would rise in another hour or so, but for now we had only the starlight and torches to guide our feet down Wall Street toward the gates.

The guards opened the tall wooden portals for us, letting us out onto the Quaking Bridge. As we approached the stables, Branck appeared from the paddock, walking toward the front door. He paused on the porch as we walked into the circle of light cast by the torch.

“Hello, Julian,” he said. “And Marz. Come to look at Paint?”

“Yess,” Marz spoke for me. “How iss he right now?”

Branck shook his head. “Not interested in grain or forage. Isabeau’s cooking up some molasses and bran mash for him to try and entice him to take something. If we can get him to eat, hopefully we’ll be able to get some restore health potions into him.”

“Let me ssee him firsst,” Marz said. “Then we will sspeak further of how besst to treat him. For now, the bran massh ssoundss good.” With a nod at the hostler, she led me to the paddock gate. I heard his footsteps fade within the building as I followed the Argonian healer into the enclosure. Paint was easy to see in the dusk with his white-splashed coat. He pricked his ears at Marz’s soft hissing, then nudged my cheek with his soft muzzle while she stroked her hands over his neck and body. She laid her ear against his chest, just behind his elbow, and listened for several minutes. She did the same thing along both his flanks, all the time running her long-fingered palms over his smooth coat. He did not budge during her examination, though he flinched once or twice. She finished up standing in front of him, her hands beneath his jaw, her blunt scaled nose against his velvety nostrils. Then she stepped back with a gentle rub of his long face.

“Come with me,” she whispered to me. “I will sspeak with Issabeau and Antoine, and we will disscuss how besst to treat your friend.”

Bienne straightened up from the mash cooker as we entered the stable. Antoine sat at the table, slicing an apple into thin pieces. “Hello, Marz,” Bienne greeted her. “Julian.”

“Pleasse ssit,” Marz waved me to the table opposite Branck. She took the chair next to me as Bienne moved to join us. “Julian, a will o’wissp’s attack iss two pronged. It not only hass a drain health effect, which iss the mosst obviouss, but it alsso hass a drain magicka effect.”

I frowned at her words. “Yes, I’m aware of the magicka effect, ma’am,” I responded softly. “But Paint is a horse, how can that affect him?”

“All living creaturess possess magicka,” Marz responded. “Many people don’t believe sso, but it’ss true. Though animalss can not casst sspells like men, mer and tailed folk can, magicka iss sstill essential for their ssurvival. Magicka iss what createss the sspecial bond you sso obvioussly share with Paint. It iss what enabless animalss to experience joy, contentment, pain, and yess, ssuffering.”

Makes a weird sort of sense to me. “It’s clear to me that Paint is suffering,” I spoke slowly. “But I don’t know how to restore his magicka.”

“It iss more difficult to resstore the magicka of animalss than of people,” Marz agreed. “Animalss view the world differently from uss. Thosse of uss who are clossesst to animalss - Argonianss and Khajiiti, find it ssomewhat eassier to esstablissh empathy with the dumb creaturess, but even you, Julian, can accomplissh ssomething.” She sat back in the plain chair, her orange eyes sad. “Yet, it issn’t as sstraightforward as a convalessence sspell. Time is crucial for full recovery. Animalss are sslower to recover from loss of magicka than people.”

“Would the bran mash be of help, then?” Bienne asked. She had been listening intently to Marz’s dissertation.

“Yess,” Marz nodded. “It iss warm, ssavory of odor, and eassily doctored. Molassess is a wisse choice, as are appless,” she gestured at the apple Branck had sliced. “If you have apple cider, that would be a good addition as well.” She turned to me. “Julian, if you wissh, I will teach you a resstore magicka sspell. You will get better with practice, as you have done with your convalessence sspell.” Now she shook her head. “But I doubt that Paint will recover hiss full sstrength anytime ssoon. Iss there ssomeplace you can leave him to recuperate?”

“I have a house in the Imperial City,” I mused softly, my eyes on the table. “And a good friend in Weye. If I ask, I’m sure Aelwin Merowald will be happy of Paint’s company. He adores Paint, and I think Paint likes him very much too.”

“Good,” Marz nodded. “Though the road to the Imperial City is full of danger, we can get Paint a little sstronger for the trip.” She regarded me a moment longer. “As a Magess Guild member, do you have resstore magicka potionss with you?”

“Yes,” I answered. “And I can get more while I’m here. Will that help?”

“Once we get Paint eating again,” Branck nodded with a glance at Marz, “it should work, right Marz?”

“It will help potentiate the effect of the sspell,” Marz agreed. She looked at me again. “Julian, get ssome resst tonight. I will casst the sspell tonight, and teach you tomorrow. You must be ressted to learn it. It requiress much concentration on the part of the casster.”

The tightness that had persisted in my chest for the past eleven days eased a little at the confidence in Marz’s tone. Do I have what it takes to heal Paint? But how long will it take for him to recover? Still, it’s more hope than I’ve had ever since he collapsed on the Yellow Road and I thought I was going to lose him. “Thank you, ma’am,” I said. “And you, too, Bienne and Branck. I really appreciate your help.”

[mALX]

ARGH!!!!! PAINT !!!! Why can Marz teach the spell but not cast it on Paint herself? ARGH !!!!!! I wouldn't make Paint walk all the way to Weye ill, and Aelwin Merowald can't heal him!!! ARGH !!! I would leave Paint there, where Bienne and Marz can work on him !!!! ARGH !!!

A Great Write, and great chapter...but heart-wrenching, poor Paint !!!!

[D.Foxy]

I would never have thought of THAT as the reason!!!

Brilliant, rider! How did you come up with that little piece of genius?

[Acadian]

I very much enjoyed your portrayal of Ita and the interactions/observations among her, Julian and the Thorn blade. Another wonderful character that closely matches my own vision of her.

I sensed her head turn toward me. “Ah, Julian,” she greeted me in that wonderful melodic voice of hers that eased all my cares and burdens.

Ahhh is right. Buffy and I also find the voices of Argonian women mesmerizingly soothing. I am so NOT surprised that Marz does not hesitate to extend her healing skill to our four legged friend. That speaks volumes of her beautiful character.

…like men, mer and tailed folk can, …

Oh, how very clever! So much nicer than round ears, tail draggers and damn pointy-eared ones!

Your explanation for Paint's plight was, quite simply, storytelling at its best - a joy to read!

So, it seems Marz will cast the restore magicka spell on Paint tonight while Julian rests her mind. Tomorrow, Marz will teach the spell to Julian. After a few days of spells and TLC, we hope to restore Paint's appetite. At that point, his treatment becomes much more flexible, as it can rely on readily available restore magicka potions. At that point, and hopefully feeling stronger, it seems Julian may be able to safely get Paint up to Aelwin in Weye. I'm sure Aelwin will be able to see to Paint's care and diet, augmenting with restore magicka potions as required. Perhaps, if Paint were younger, he could fully recover and once again join Julian as she travels; but alas, I fear he will never quite be the same and perhaps a pleasant retirement is in order. My heart aches for Julian, and Paint.

[SubRosa]

Very clever twist on the wisp's attack, and its effects on Paint. One can clearly see the writer's veterinary knowledge in Marz's examination of Paint as well.

Like Acadian, I also liked the use of the term 'tailed folk'.

[Remko]

I, like all others, have Paint in my heart as much as any of the wonderful characters you have created and I was sad to read that even though he was healed, he didn't seem the old frolliccing horse he used to be. I truly adore the depth you have given the infliction on the poor horse.

Oh, I also loved what you did with Mazoga

[treydog]

This is another one where I just want to quote the entire post to highlight the “good parts.” The discussion of the Thornblade is a fascinating bit of enchanted weapon mechanics. But Marz is the star once more. The idea that all creatures possess magicka in a magical world is one of those- “Well of course they do- why did I never think of that?” moments. Inspired and creative storytelling there. And your personal and professional experience with equine companions is again a wonderful source of inspiration. Like Julian, I am sorry that Paint's recovery will be slow- but glad that recovery is possible.

[Destri Melarg]

I like how Ita Rienus gives Julian an assessment of Thornblade's abilities while also telling her the number of charges that the blade possesses and the cost (in soul gems) of keeping it recharged. That is another of the wonderful details that set Old Habits apart.

And, once again, the voice of sage counsel and reason comes with the Argonian sssibilant ‘sss’. As the others said, Marz’s examination of Paint was both thorough and well-described. Her diagnosis was spot-on, and her prescription for treatment leaves no doubt that Paint will eventually regain much of his previous health. Given the squalor around them, the indifference of the guard, and the predilections of their no account . . . er . . . Count, I wonder if the people of Bravil realize the treasure they have over in the Chapel of Mara.

[Doommeister]

[quote name='Destri Melarg' date='Oct 12 2010, 02:18 AM' post='119547']
[quote name='D.Foxy' post='119534' date='Oct 11 2010, 10:52 AM']
And, since we have decided to share our ideas of Julian’s family members, I present Julian’s twin sister, Ororo, the one who is further along in her studies of magic.
[/quote]

@Destri are you trying to give us young blokes a hernia? Oh and certain women?

Love your writing h.e.r

I started reading your series today, and while I haven't finished it yet, I haven't been able to put it down. You have the amazing ability to draw your readers into the story.

[haute ecole rider]

@mALX: Julian wants to leave Paint where she can visit him more often. That would mean Weye (close to her charming shack on the Waterfront) or Cloud Ruler Temple. She is opting for Merowald because the climate is kinder to aged horses, not to mention the lovely little paddock with the grand old oak tree next to his house.

@Foxy: I assume you are speaking of the magicka-depleting effect of the will o’wisp? I looked it up on wiki, and thought, a-ha! In shamanistic traditions, shamans heal the soul, while healers heal the body. I figured this was the same thing, or similiar.

@Acadian: You have the right of it: Paint’s days as Julian’s traveling companion on the roads of Cyrodiil are over. She will not risk his life more than she has to.

@SubRosa: Thanks!

@Remko: Long time no see! I’m glad to know that you’re still reading my fan fic. I hear you about Paint and Mazoga.

@treydog: I’ve always written what I can imagine, rather than what I know, but what I know has a tendency to creep into my writing from time to time.

@Destri: I think the people of Bravil do recognize the gem that graces the Chapel of Mara, it’s just that their appreciation runs quieter and deeper than mere singing of praises.

@Doommeister: Welcome to Chorrol! I’m glad to see that you have stopped reading long enough to tell me how much you like Julian’s story. I hope that you will continue to enjoy this as I continue with the Main Quest.

*****************
Chapter 20.3 Count Terentius

Viera Lerus greeted me within the great hall. “Good morning Julian.” She looked closer at my face. “Didn’t you get much rest last night?”

I shook my head. “I did sleep well, but I was at the stables with Marz just now, learning how to cast a restore magicka spell on touch.”

“Ah, yes, your horse,” Lerus nodded her understanding. “Frederick told me the two of you had some bad luck on the road.” She turned and led me toward the dais at the rear of the hall. “I hope he gets better, Julian.”

I hope so too. This morning he had shown some interest in the apple I offered him, though he only lipped at the pieces. However Branck reported to Marz and me that Paint had eaten the bran mash last night after Marz had cast her spell on him. When I looked at him this morning, I thought his eye looked a little brighter, not quite so sunken. Still, the change was so subtle, I wasn’t certain if I was imagining things.

We waited behind a man, a Breton by his fair coloring and High Rock accent, while he complained of the lack of fishing in the bay. “The schools are getting smaller and scarcer,” he demonstrated shrinkage with his hands. “I ‘ave to go further and further away from the walls to find ‘ealthy fish. And just the other day, I was almost beset by pirates!”

Count Regulus Terentius, a bored expression on his face, shrugged. “Your fishing problems are not my concern. Your inability to pay your taxes are.”

“But Count!” the Breton spread his hands helplessly. “If I can’t fish, I can’t make enough to pay my taxes, let alone feed my family!”

The count waved him away impatiently. As the Breton stumped dejectedly away, Terentius’s jaded gaze fell on us, and a flicker of resentment mingled with recognition passed through his slack-featured face as we stepped forward. “What is it, Lerus?” His tone held overt contempt for the lean woman at my left side.

“This is Julian of Anvil,” Lerus kept her voice commendably calm. “She is the person responsible for closing the Oblivion Gate in the old Bravil Fort ruins.”

He regarded me with disinterested eyes. “I’m rather busy,” his breath huffed as he sipped at the goblet in his hand. I glanced around the great hall. It was empty of citizens. Fathis Aren, standing off to one side, arched a disdainful brow at me as he nodded in silent acknowledgment. “I doubt you have anything,” the count’s additional words drew my attention back to him, “to tell me that I’d want to hear.”

Lerus’s advice from last night fresh in my mind, I bowed to the Count. “Good morning, sir. I come with a message from Countess Narina Carvain of Bruma.”

Terentius’s brows rose. “Really?” His tone held less contempt and more interest. He set the wine on the small table next to his seat. “And how is the old girl these days?”

“Holding up, sir,” I kept my voice neutral. “These Oblivion Gates that are opening outside her walls are occupying much of her attention. There is evidence that the Mythic Dawn has selected Bruma as their next target for the Oblivion siege engine.”

“Indeed,” Count Terentius shook his head, his brown hair glimmering in the firelight from the braziers on either side of his high-backed throne. “Do send her my sympathy and my regards.”

“Countess Carvain would ask for more from you, sir,” I held his gaze steadily. Remember what Lerus said. He asked Carvain to marry him years ago, and she refused. But he still holds a torch for her. “She asks for reinforcements for her garrison. It is her hope to keep closing the Oblivion Gates as fast as they open. That would prevent a Great Gate, such as that which overpowered Kvatch, from opening on the plain in front of Bruma.”

The man’s brown gaze flickered from me to Viera Lerus. A small smile of triumph appeared on his face. “Do not think me ungrateful, Julian of Anvil,” he remarked casually. “Your selfless act of closing the Gate in the fort ruins outside our walls has not gone unremarked. Let me show my gratitude by sending my Captain of the Guard to Bruma.”

Beside me, Lerus stiffened. “Sir, I can’t leave -”

“Yes, you can,” Count Terentius nodded. “After all, you have a competent second in Thalberg, do you not? He is perfectly capable of managing the Guard in your absence.”

I narrowed my eyes at the count as Lerus inhaled slowly. “Are you sending Captain Lerus by herself, sir?” I asked.

His smile grew wider. “Ah, yes, indeed. Captain Lerus is a fine warrior and worth three of my Guard.” Now he grew serious. “And I can not take any chances at leaving the town undefended should another Gate open outside our walls.” His tone brooked no further argument.

“Many thanks,” I said, bowing to him again. Big help you are. If you want to impress Countess Carvain, this isn’t the way to do it.

“Have a safe trip!” Terentius waved us away, reaching for the wine goblet at his elbow. I caught Lerus’s angry glare and jerked my head toward the tall doors leading outside. Her jaw clenched, she took her frustrations out on the russet and gold carpet that led us to the portal. As the sentries hurried to open the doors for us, I turned to Lerus.

“There’s no reason for me to stay in Bravil any longer,” I said quietly. “How soon can you leave? Perhaps we can travel together as far as Weye.”

“I don’t have a horse, I’ll only slow you down,” Lerus shrugged. I shook my head.

“Paint isn’t well enough for me to ride him,” I met her gaze. “You won’t be the one slowing me down. I can appreciate some help keeping the predators away from him.” And I’d like time to speak freely with you, Lerus.

“All right, give me an hour, then,” Lerus agreed, her irritation at Count Terentius easing a little. “It’ll be good to get out of Bravil.”

***************
I was already at the stable with Branck and Bienne getting Paint ready for the long walk back to Weye when Lerus joined us. “You’d best break it up over a couple of days,” Bienne advised me. “Stop at the Faregyl Inn for the evening. It’s an easy walk from here,” she squinted up at the late morning sun, “and you should get there before dark barring any delays on the road. It’s off the road a bit, but the fare’s hearty, and Alix Lencolia, the blademaster there, knows his equines.” She pressed a couple of pieces of folded parchment into my hand. “One of these is for him, the other is for the person you’ll be leaving Paint with at Weye. They contain the recipes for the bran mash we’ve been giving him.” She smiled at me. “He had another meal of it after you left, and we were able to get a vial of restore magicka down him that way.”

“Thank you so much for all your help,” I could feel a further easing of that knot in the pit of my stomach. Paint did indeed look improved after the second spellcasting. He held his head up higher, and seemed curious about Viera Lerus. She opened the gate as I led Paint out, his saddle bristling with Thornblade, Daedra Slayer and both bows. “You’ve got quite the collection of weaponry there,” she remarked. I glanced at her after I waved good bye to Branck and Bienne.

“I’m leaving one of the blades at my house on the Waterfront,” I said after we reached the cobblestones that marked the Green Road. “It was a gift, and I’m told it’s a very valuable weapon. But it’s a bit heavy after these katanas, so I’ll put it aside for now.”

We were silent as we walked north toward the ridge that marked the upper end of the Niben Bay floodplain. The sun was warm on our backs, the breeze in our faces a cool harbinger of winter. The trees around us hid deer, the occasional wolf, and boar within their shadowy embrace. Paint’s hooves clopped slowly on the stones as he walked with his head between us. I was reminded of the time Martin and I walked to Weynon Priory from Kvatch. The slow easy pace of our walk had been a peaceful interlude between the chaos of Kvatch and the tragedy that struck Weynon Priory on our arrival.

The climb up the steep ridge was hard for Paint, but he followed us gamely. When we reached the top, he was blowing hard. As Marz had taught me, I laid my fingers against his jaw behind the bit, where I could feel his pulse. Though elevated from the exertion, his heart rate dropped quickly to a more normal pace. I made him stand still for a few minutes while I recalled the restore magicka spell the healer of Mara had taught me.

“Put your handss on Paint’ss ribss, jusst behind the shoulder. Feel hiss heart beat, and the air moving through hiss lungss.” Marz placed my hands in the appropriate place on Paint’s side. He swung his head around and bumped my shoulder gently with his nose. “Thiss iss hiss core, the ssource of hiss magicka. Let your heart beat match hiss, your breath match hiss.” I closed my eyes and concentrated on my hands. “Once both of you are in tune with each other, find hiss core. It can be a flame of white light, or a concentration of heat, or ssome other thing. But you will know it by the way it beatss in time with hiss heart and yourss.” Behind my eyelids, I saw a tiny white spark that flickered feebly. Though my hands still rested on Paint’s warm coat, I reached through him toward that faint flame. I could feel the merest hint of warmth beyond that of flesh and blood. “Touch hiss core with one hand, and find your own with the other. When you touch your own core, energy will flow from you to him. It will alwayss flow from sstrongesst to weakesst, as water will flow from high to low, and warmth will flow from the fire to the cold sstone.”

As Marz spoke in her singsong hiss, I became aware of my own white flame, a modest fire like the hearty crackle of a campfire. With my soul’s left hand cupping Paint’s spark, my other hand moved over my own core. As my palm touched my magicka, it surged high, arcing through my arm, through my body, and down to that feeble flare. Like a lava flow in the Deadlands, the argent energy flowed from me to Paint. Before long my own fire was diminished, and his had grown, until they were equal to each other, as our heart beats and our breaths matched. Paint shifted under my physical hands, and I opened my eyes, losing the contact. I found myself leaning on him, my forehead resting against his back.

“Do you feel ssuddenly weak?” Marz steadied me with her gentle hands.

“Like I’ve cast several healing spells in a row,” I murmured. “Is that what it is? I give Paint some of my own magicka?”

“Yess, that iss exactly what it iss,” Marz’s voice held encouragement. “As your magicka replenishess, you’ll be able to give him more. He will alsso begin to regenerate his own.”

As the memory of the lesson passed through my mind, I regarded Paint. His own hard breathing subsided to a quiet respiration. Lerus watched me as I glanced around at the forest. “Is he all right?” She caught my gaze.

“I’d like to repeat that magicka spell I learned,” I watched her expression. “But it takes all my concentration -”

“Say no more,” Lerus drew her steel sword, its blade catching the sunlight. “I’ll keep watch.” She backed away from us, stopping a few paces in front of Paint.

“Thanks,” I said. Slipping my hands beneath the saddle near the girth, I closed my eyes and concentrated on Marz’s lesson. Again I found Paint’s magicka, again I poured my own into his core until his flame grew a bit stronger, and mine was a bit weaker. This time, I was prepared for the weakness when I opened my eyes. Paint stood quietly, his head turned toward me, his dark eye watching me. When I felt strong enough to stand on my own two feet, I rubbed his neck. As I took his rein, he swung his muzzle against my cheek and blew softly onto my neck, making me shudder.

Lerus sheathed her sword as we approached, her eyes on me assessing. “I think it’s helping, for what it’s worth, Julian.”

“I hope so,” I answered as she fell into step at Paint’s right side.

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Nov 4 2010, 03:40 PM

[mALX]

Great descriptions in this chapter! The dealings with Terentius - hilarious !!!!

[SubRosa]

“What is it, Lerus?” His tone held overt contempt for the lean woman at my left side.
Now this tells us something of Bravil's problems right here.

If you want to impress Countess Carvain, this isn’t the way to do it.
No kidding. The way to do it would be by showing up personally and showing the daedra why he was a tournament champion! As Legionary Pullo said, there's nothing women like more than to bring them the still beating heart of an enemy.

However, one can clearly see that the Count's decision is not based on impressing the lady, so much as getting rid of his guard captain.

Finally, a simply lovely description of Julian's restore magicka spell.

nits:
It is her hope to keep closing the Oblivion Gates as fast as they open, to prevent a Great Gate, such as that which overpowered Kvatch, from opening on the plain in front of Bruma
This really goes on for a long bit. Perhaps It could be broken up into several sentences?
It is her hope to keep closing the Oblivion Gates as fast as they open. That would prevent a Great Gate - such as that which overpowered Kvatch - from opening on the plain in front of Bruma

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Nov 4 2010, 03:36 PM

[Acadian]

Wow! Some true colors revealed. So Lerus is an impediment to the Count. . . and now he is rid of her. How cleverly creative - I love the way you did it! Wonderful depiction of both Lerus and the Count.

The trees around us hid deer, the occasional wolf, and boar within their shadowy embrace.

Lovely description. Ahhhh *happy sigh*.

I'm with SubRosa - the whole restore magicka section of this story was positively mesmerizing. Masterfully done!

[treydog]

Upon seeing the No-Count, we are immediately given tow excellent pieces of “show, don’t tell” writing: the fisherman’s concerns and Terentius’ dismissal of them provide a wealth of information. And his attitude toward his guard captain reinforces the impression.

The inspired (by Captain Lerus) use of Countess Carvain was a lovely bit of background. And you manage some wonderful characterization with Terentius backhanded compliment to his captain. One gets the feeling that he mostly wants Lerus out of the way… for some reason or other.

More Julian diplomacy, finding an acceptable reason for Lerus to travel with her.

“When you touch your own core, energy will flow from you to him. It will alwayss flow from sstrongesst to weakesst, as water will flow from high to low, and warmth will flow from the fire to the cold sstone.”

This whole passage was lovely- but these sentences especially stood out.

[Destri Melarg]

I think it is telling that the two poorest cities in Cyrodiil have Counts who are either inscrutable, or ineffectual. I think that Lerus is well rid of her burden under this Count. Really, how much worse can Bravil get in her absence? I have a feeling that Lerus will find employment with far greater meaning on the fields outside Bruma.

Once again magic is transformed in your hands. The restore magicka spell is so well described that one feels that there is no other way such a spell could work. If I ever get around to describing the nuts and bolts of magic, I hope I can do it with half as much scintillating detail!

[haute ecole rider]

@mALX: Thanks! I think you will really enjoy this next bit!

@SubRosa: I’m glad you see the source of Bravil’s problems as I do. In Countess Carvain’s case, I think bringing her the Akaviri Madstone from Pale Pass will win her heart! Thanks for the nit!

@Acadian: I knew you and Buffy would love the description of the forest along the Green Road.

@treydog: while I consider Count Leyawiin canny but not necessarily bad (though I will argue otherwise where his dimwit wife is concerned), I really, really wanted to convey the real smarminess that is The (Dis)Honorable Count Bravil. I’m glad it came across.

@Destri: Cities under inspired government tend to thrive, while those under poor management do poorly. It’s something we see all the time in RL, and there is no reason why it can’t be the same in TES. As for Lerus, I think the Count is making a grievous mistake. In certain circles, it is a given that you want to keep your enemies closer than your friends. We’ll see what happens with those two!

I think it will be obvious to many that a certain Khajiit writer has been influential in how I view the residents of Faregyl Inn. Many thanks, mALX. I had tremendous fun writing this!

********************
Chapter 20.4 The Stolen Darlings

The rest of the walk from the ridge to the Faregyl Inn was easy, as it followed the top of the ridge that ran between the Niben Basin and Hidden Valley to the west. We made good time along this stretch of the Green Road. Paint’s stride was decidedly less stiff, more fluid, which gave me more encouragement than I expected.

I found Talos’s wayshrine and stopped there to give thanks for a safe trip so far. We had encountered no enemies. Animals wisely left us alone, and apparently any bandits hiding in the trees made the same choice.

Golden beams were slanting through the branches of the forest by the time I spotted the archery target and the ramshackle lines of the Inn of Ill Omen. Marsias was nowhere to be seen, and I didn’t want to stop inside the place. It would be hard for me to resist the obligation to buy some food from Maulhand, but I was determined never to eat there again. Even my own Legion slop tastes better than that vile soup.

We found the small path that led down toward Hidden Valley and Faregyl Inn. My nose twitched at a warm, yeasty aroma that floated up to us on the cool breeze. A glance at Lerus indicated she too had noticed the scent. The thought of fresh-baked bread made my stomach growl.

As we approached the charming structure, I studied its thatched roof, round river stone walls, and half-timbered upper story. It reminded me of Wawnet Inn in Weye. A low stone wall surrounded the inn’s yard, enclosing a riot of blooms. Two figures stood within the profusion of pink and purple cosmos, their backs to us, faces turned west. The smaller female Khajiit turned to the tall man next to her with an air of distress, her ears back and her tail twitching.

“Oh, my poorr darrlings! I only wanted them to have a little bit of sun! Now they’rre gone!”

The man turned around at the sound of Paint’s hooves on the cobblestones outside the yard. “Hello, and welcome to Faregyl, travelers,” he greeted us, opening the gate. His lilting accent gave away his Breton heritage, in spite of his tanned skin and brown eyes.

“Hello,” I answered. “I’m looking for Alix Lencolia, sir.”

He beamed as we led Paint into the yard, but his smile faded as he took in the horse’s thin appearance. “That’s me, ma’am. Is there something wrong with your horse?”

“He was attacked by a will o’wisp twelve days ago,” I was getting tired of explaining Paint’s condition to everyone we met. Hopefully I won’t have to talk about it anymore soon. “Isabeau Bienne said to give this to you,” I handed him the missive from the Bay Roan hostler. The parchment rustled in the afternoon breeze as he opened it. Muscles clenched beneath his five-bells shadow as his eyes scanned the message.

“This is serious,” he looked back at me. “It’s difficult and time-consuming to restore magicka in an animal.”

“Serrious!” The slight Khajiit had turned around and darted to Lencolia’s side, tugging at his sleeve. “But what about my darrlings! Oh, my poorr babies!”

“Is there something wrong?” Lerus kept her steady gaze on the distraught female.

“This is S’jirra,” Lencolia performed the introduction. “She’s upset because someone or something stole her jumbo potatoes.”

“Potatoes?” Lerus repeated, her finely arched brows rising.

“Yes, my lovely, darrling jumbo potatoes!” S’jirra tugged again on Lencolia’s sleeve. “Please, Alix, you must go find them!”

Somehow Lencolia did not share S’jirra’s concern for her lost tubers. “I must start the bran mash cooking for Paint,” he gently put her off. “It’s going to take a few hours before it’s ready.”

“No!” S’jirra yowled as if her tail had been caught in a closing door. “By then it’ll be too late for my babies!”

“Tell me about your jumbo potatoes, ma’am,” I stepped forward. “Maybe Captain Lerus and I can be of help while Alix Lencolia tends to Paint.” I sensed Lerus’s dubious glance at me, but she said nothing.

“I know it was stupid of me, but I put my jumbo potatoes out to get some sun,” S’jirra wrung her hands. “I shouldn’t have left them all alone like that! Next thing I knew, they werre gone! I saw someone rrunning into the west,” she gestured toward the eaves of the forest just beyond the inn.

“How long ago did this happen?” Lerus stepped to my side, assuming the attitude of an investigator. Lencolia took Paint’s rein from me and led the gelding around the side of the inn, toward a patch of green grass.

“About an hourr or so ago?” S’jirra licked nervously at her right hand, then rubbed her ear, setting the ornaments woven into her mane jingling. Lerus and I exchanged glances. An hour ago - those potatoes are probably in someone’s stomach by now.

“Did you get a good look at the person you saw?” I asked. “Was it a man or a woman?”

“I only saw him from behind, but I think it was a man.” S’jirra rubbed at her ear some more. “Big,” she added. “Oh, please, if I don’t get them back forr the next batch of my famous potato brread, I don’t know what I’ll do!”

“Can’t you describe him a little more for us?” Lerus kept her voice cool. “What was he wearing? What color was his hair?”

“Oh, I don’t know!” the Khajiit wailed, her tone reaching an uncomfortable screech. Paint threw his head up, his ears pinning back against his neck. Lencolia murmured something to him, stroking his shoulder.

“All right, ma’am,” I reached a hand out to the overwrought woman. Lerus returned my glance with a shrug. “We’ll go take a look while Lencolia tends to Paint.” The Bravil Captain’s gaze sharpened on me in startled apprehension. Ignoring her, I moved to the west wall and swung my leg over it. I was a few strides into the forest before she caught up to me.

“You’re serious about finding those potatoes, aren’t you?” she demanded softly, her drawn steel sword glimmering softly in the shadows. Her eyes flickered around us.

“I want Lencolia to tend to Paint,” I answered. “If I didn’t offer to go look for those potatoes, S’jirra wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace, let alone time to make the mash.”

We walked further into the woods before I stopped to cast a detect life spell. Lerus watched me while I gazed into the trees for pink life signs. I kept my gaze averted from her face, for I hated the way the haze thrown by the spell obstructed people’s expressions.

“Do you see anything?” her quiet voice was barely audible above the buzzing of the cicadas. I drew my katana under handed, keeping its blade along my forearm.

“Just a couple of deer,” I shrugged. “I doubt they are S’jirra’s thieves. Let’s head west a little further.”

“Lead on, Julian,” Lerus fell in behind me as the pink haze dissipated. We wove our way through the thick trunks of the beeches deeper into the forest. The ground began to climb, indicating to me that we had crossed Hidden Valley. I paused again and renewed my detect life spell. This time, a large form glimmered into shape further up the rock-strewn slope.

Holding my finger to my lips to signal silence, I pointed its location out to Lerus. She slid several steps away to my right, her gaze scanning the foliage up the ridge. I watched the shape a few moments longer. Troll, or bear maybe. Big, like S’jirra said. As the pink glow faded, I kept my eyes on that spot and began moving forward slowly. The buzzing insects covered any sound our mail made as we crept up the slope, maintaining our separation.

Halfway up the ridge, I stopped and threw up another detect life spell. This time I could visualize the shape better. No, not a troll. Cacat, it’s an ogre! I cast my gaze around the forest, searching for more hulking forms. He’s alone. That’s odd. But it’s good for us. A glance at Lerus indicated her readiness. I made the signal to hold her position, then whistled a sharp blast. The pink haze ahead stiffened, spun around, then started moving toward me. I twirled the hilt of the katana in my right hand, bringing the blade to the ready position. Sounds of breaking branches and heavy footfalls soon reached me, just as the detect life spell faded away.

My feet braced, I brought the sword in front of me. I had stopped in a small clearing, just a few meters across. It gave me enough room to maneuver and swing my blade. I didn’t have to wait long before the small head and broad shoulders appeared through the leaves. The ogre’s beady eyes lit on me, and he growled, showing crooked peg teeth. His huge fists appeared next, rising to deliver a death’s hammer blow. I held my ground as he ran at me.

His approach was slow, but then several things happened at once. He towered over me, those fists beginning their descent. I dove to one side, stabbing the katana into his flank as I did so. At the same time, Lerus’s Bravil livery glimmered into view behind the ogre. Her steel sword flashed as she drove it into the big creature’s back just below his ribs. His massive hands smacked into the ground where I had been standing just an instant ago, and he reared back. He spun around with an agonized roar, his hands swiping at me, then at Lerus. But both of us had danced out of his reach.

As he turned ponderously toward Lerus, I darted behind him and slashed my katana at his legs. The sharp blade bit deeply into the muscles of his right calf, bringing him crashing to one knee. With another shout, he swiped at me with one long arm. I barely ducked back in time to avoid a punishing blow to my side. Lerus took advantage of the opening to run the tip of her steel sword along the ogre’s left arm from shoulder to elbow, leaving a deep gash.

With both of us taking turns keeping the monstrous creature off balance, we wore him down until his breaths began to falter. Blood oozed from multiple wounds in his massive body and limbs, and dribbled from his mouth. He flailed weakly at us, then he pitched forward onto his face, the last breath escaping in that unmistakable death rattle.

Wary, we waited several seconds before approaching him. Hard lessons from my Legion past prompted me to drive my katana between the ogre’s ribs toward the center of his chest. He did not stir as I twisted the tip of my blade inside his massive body. Definitely dead.

Lerus and I looked at each other over the immobile ogre. Like me, her face was covered with perspiration, and her breaths came short and hard, but otherwise she seemed unharmed. She knelt beside the ogre and wiped her blade on the monster’s loincloth. I used Carandial’s refresh spell to remove the blood and gore from my slender katana before sheathing it.

“Are we alone?” Lerus asked me as I cast another detect life spell. I nodded after a quick scan of the forest. “Do you think this thing’s responsible for those potatoes?” she sheathed the sword, her gaze on the body between us.

“Could be,” I pointed up the hill. “He was sitting there, not far away. Let’s see if we can track his trail back to that place, ma’am.” The broken branches were easy to follow, and Lerus fell in behind me.

“Tell me something, Julian,” she panted as our climb grew steeper. “Did you call that fetcher to you?”

“Yes, I did, ma’am,” I did not pause in my climbing. “I knew what he was, but I couldn’t tell you without revealing our positions. If you heard him coming and expected something like a bear or a troll, you’d be in for a nasty surprise.”

“It was a nasty surprise anyway,” Lerus commented as we reached a tiny clearing, even smaller than the one where the ogre now lay dead. It was just a break in the forest canopy created when a matriarch tree fell down, perhaps in a storm. Beside the rotting trunk lay a jumbled brown cloth. I used my sheathed katana to nudge the rough weaving aside. Six ogre-sized potatoes nestled within its coarse folds.

“Well, looks like we’ll be able to make S’jirra happy after all,” I said, kneeling and gathering up the corners of the cloth, knotting them around the tubers.

“It’s getting dark.” I looked up at Lerus’s voice. She was right - I could barely see her face in the gathering gloom beneath the thick branches of the forest. “Can you find our way back?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I silently thanked my years in Valenwood. At least the trees here don’t move. Hefting the makeshift sack of potatoes over one shoulder, I returned to the trail broken by the ogre. Lerus fell in behind me, quietly following my footsteps.

By the time we reached the ogre’s body, it was full dark. I stopped beside him. “Lerus, you can’t see where you’re going, and neither can I. I’m going to cast starlight on us.” I suited action to words. As the faint green glimmer grew around us, her pale face emerged from the gloom. “Keep an eye out for predators, ma’am.”

S’jirra was waiting with a flaming torch in the yard when we emerged from the blackness of the forest. She lifted the brand higher as we swung our legs over the wall. “Ohh, you found my babies! I just know you did!” As I swung the package from my shoulder, she shoved the torch at Lerus, who took it with a silent roll of her eyes. The Khajiit held her hands out, and I gently laid my burden into her arms, opening the cloth so she could see the tubers within. She cradled them to her chest, purring madly over them. Her eyes shone as she lifted her gaze to us. “Oh, my goodness, you found them!” She sprang gleefully away from us toward the bench near the inn door, where she laid the six potatoes carefully down. Then she bounded back to us. “Oh, I could kiss you both!”

Before Lerus or I could react, she had taken Lerus’s face in her hands and kissed her soundly on the lips. Then she was pulling my face down to hers while Lerus spluttered into her mailed sleeve. I barely managed to refrain from spitting the fine hairs from my own lips while S’jirra returned to her jumbo potatoes. “You must come inside! We have dinner rready!” Somehow she managed to open the door for us in spite of a double armful of tubers.

[D.Foxy]

Ah, well, not all Khajit are nice to kiss. Some Khajit, though...especially white ones...

[mALX]

Before Lerus or I could react, she had taken Lerus’s face in her hands and kissed her soundly on the lips. Then she was pulling my face down to hers while Lerus spluttered into her mailed sleeve. I barely managed to refrain from spitting the fine hairs from my own lips while S’jirra returned to her jumbo potatoes. “You must come inside! We have dinner rready!” Somehow she managed to open the door for us in spite of a double armful of tubers.

SPEW !!!! This was great !!!!!!

Somehow Lencolia did not share S’jirra’s concern for her lost tubers.

ROFL !!! A great rendition, not only of the quest, but the Faregyl residents - I loved this !!!!

[Acadian]

I had tremendous fun writing this!

Heh. I can see that you did!

S’jirra licked nervously at her right hand, then rubbed her ear, setting the ornaments woven into her mane jingling.

This was a beautiful piece of kitty-specific phrasing!

At least the trees here don’t move.

Thank you the wonderful observation from the land of the wood elf.

This whole story was great fun! Buffy is scratching her head though. She thought all ogres were friendly like Lord Drad's. Hmm, that one must have been high from sniffing those jumbo 'tatos.

Lerus was interesting. She seemed hesitant to take on this quest. I can't decide if it was unsoldierly timidity or simply a wisely professional risk assessment regarding the chasing of potatos. Regardless, she did not falter when it counted. You are portraying her as a fascinating character.

Although they are not biologically related, I see much of Maxical in her adoptive mother, S'Jirra. What a wonderful tribute to Alix and S'Jirra you wrote here!

This post has been edited by Acadian: Nov 6 2010, 08:11 PM

[SubRosa]

Before you decide if the Count is bad or not, keep in mind that he and Caelia Draconis are the ones with the key to the secret torture room, not the Countess.

Even my own Legion slop tastes better than that vile soup.
Poor Maulhand, nobody loves him but Minerva!

I hope Julian and Captain Lerus remember to get some salad dressing while they are in Hidden Valley!

five-bells shadow
An excellent way of getting around "o'clock"! Remind me to steal that phrase!

I kept my gaze averted from her face, for I hated the way the haze thrown by the spell obstructed people’s expressions.
That is the thing I do not like about detect life as well, how it obscures peoples faces when you try to talk to them.

S’jirra's antics were fun. I loved how you made the extra effort to felinize her behavior, yowling, her ears back in distress, tail twitching, etc...

The battle with the ogre reminded me of hunting dogs harrying a bear, or a pride of lions taking on a cape buffalo. Nicely done.

nits:
He towered over me, those fists beginning their descent.
You changed tenses after the comma, going from past to present. Perhaps instead try:
He towered over me, and those fists began their descent.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Nov 6 2010, 09:06 PM