Jerric's Story, A Nord's Adventures in Cyrodiil Options

[Grits]

mALX: Thank you, mALX! I had fun mixing and matching Tar-Meena’s lines from the game. She makes me smile. What you said about that last paragraph means a great deal to me. Thank you for that!!

ghastley: I’m glad you pointed that out, ghastley. She also noticed that he didn’t include his own safe return as part of the plan.

King Coin: Yep, as soon as Jerric related Tar-Meena to Darnand, he knew what to say. Volume 2, check! Now let’s see how he does with Phintias. Thank you, KC!

SubRosa: Thank you, SubRosa! There will definitely be more flavors of Skyrim. I was also pleased to find out that Illusion spells have limitations on daedra and undead in Skyrim, the way I thought they did in Oblivion. Though we’ll keep Oblivion’s spell crafting, or Darnand would go on strike. Now I have an image of Darnand surging out of the phone booth with a big death’s-head on his chest instead of an S. Thanks for finding the nit, that name drives me crazy.

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! I can never bring myself to use Welkynd stones in the game, knowing that they will be destroyed forever. It was fun to write Lildereth at the University, I wasn’t quite sure how it was going to work out until I started writing. I knew better than to suggest a mage’s robe, though! That line of Jerric’s that you picked out was my favorite in this episode. I’m so glad you drew attention to it. Thank you for finding those nits, I fixed them.

McBadgere: Thank you, McB! It’s so fun to have a huge, shaggy dog ambling around. And also Ulfe.

treydog: Oh my gosh, thank you treydog. Your comments are tremendously inspiring and so very appreciated. I am still quite insecure about my own attempts at plot, and you have picked up the threads of what I’m trying to do with my part of the story. That means so much.



Where we are: We left Jerric, Lildereth, and Ulfe in the garden at the Arcane University. Jerric has gotten the second book from Tar-Meena, who remarked on his plan to find the Mythic Dawn in front of Lildereth. The elf seemed concerned. Jerric suggested lunch. A quick reminder: Running Wolf Postal and Freight is Jerric’s family’s caravan and courier business. Ongve is one of the partners. He operates out of Anvil.



Chapter 14: The Imperial City, Part Six


Lildereth declined Jerric’s lunch offer, making rather much of the fact that Magnus had not yet reached its mid-morning height. She countered with an invitation to join her and Darnand for dinner. Jerric was happy to accept. As he crossed the bridge from the university to the city proper, he cast his eyes regretfully over the valley. Today’s work was inside the walls, not out under the sun.

By the time he reached the Market District’s open gates, mid-day traffic filled the streets. Food, drink, and household consumables were sold at stands clustered in the centers of the squares, while the surrounding shops offered more durable goods. The jostling crowd was a vivid patchwork of mortals. Every language of Tamriel filled the air. Jerric could pick out spices, sweat, perfumes, roast meat, and hair oil from the confusion of scents. He put one hand on his coin purse and the other on his belt knife before he shouldered into the press.

The First Edition stood near the gate. Its dimly lit interior welcomed Jerric with candlelight and quiet. Tall cases filled with books stood along every wall, some secured by glass doors. The long sales counter held fine writing implements and beautifully bound editions, all reflected in the gleaming countertop. The smell brought Jerric back to Twice Sold Tales in Kvatch. All that was missing was kahve and the smiling, bookish girls who served it. He stood on the thick carpeting for a moment while his eyes adjusted.

The Redguard behind the counter looked as elegant as his shop. However, his expression was not so agreeable.

“Phintias?” Jerric asked, stepping over to him.

“Owner and proprietor of The First Edition,” the man sniffed. His accent was educated Nibenean. “Look around. If I don’t have it, maybe I can get it.”

“I’m Jerric. Pleased to meet you. Uh, I’m looking for the Mysterium Xarxes.”

“You must be referring to Mankar Camoran’s Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes,” Phintias sneered. “A common mistake. It comes in four volumes. The first two volumes are rare, but you may run across them from time to time. The third and fourth are impossible to find.”

Jerric had no argument with being called common. It was the tone that set him on edge. “I need volumes three and four.”

“Oooh, I’m so sorry,” said Phintias, in a clear imitation of Jerric’s Gold Coast drawl. “I don’t have them. What a shame.”

That sleeping Altmer in Fort Strand might just have been my first murder, thought Jerric. I wouldn’t mind seeing this man’s blood. “What are the chances of finding them?”

“The chances are good that I could find one copy. However I happen to have a special order for Volume Three already. I’m afraid it is already paid for by another customer. Sorry. Gwinas would be terribly disappointed if I sold you the first copy I found. So sorry I can’t help you.”

Jerric ground his teeth. “Gwinas?”

“I don’t know him personally. But he was very eager to get his hands on Volume Three of Camoran’s Commentaries. He plans to come all the way from Valenwood to pick it up! A dedicated scholar, I am sure.”

Valenwood, thought Jerric, ignoring Phintias’ withering look. I’ll have a chance to get back here first. “Let me talk to this Gwinas before you sell him the book.”

“I have already sold him the book,” said Phintias. “It’s a special order. That’s how it works.”

“Special order it for me too, then. Send us both a message when you find it, I’ll give you the address. Hold on to the book and let me and Gwinas work it out when we get here. You keep the money. That way you can sell the same book twice.”

Phintias gave him a look of equal parts avarice and disdain. Then he quoted a figure that made Jerric’s knees weak.

“Throw in some erotica and we have a deal,” said Jerric, counting out the coins. “Indecent but not too disgusting.”

“No refunds,” Phintias said in parting. “Have a nice day, now.”

Jerric left the shop with a nearly empty coin purse and an illustrated book of Dunmeri love sonnets tucked into his bag. He hoped that Darnand wouldn’t spend too much on his enchanting, or they would have to stay in the Imperial City to work.

Rohssan at A Fighting Chance was far too busy with customers to spend time training. Jerric made an appointment to return with his gear in the morning. He headed for the Elven Gardens District.

Chapel bells told Jerric that the lunch hour had passed, but Luther Broad’s was still doing a brisk business when he entered. Jerric took a seat at the bar.

Luther swiped the already clean counter and flipped the towel back over his shoulder. His eyebrows asked the question.

“Ale,” said Jerric, regretting his reduced budget. He watched the other patrons while Luther moved around behind the bar. There were folk eating lunch and talking in murmurs at most of the tables, but the main event was at the end of the counter, presided over by an Argonian woman of indeterminable age. There a line of folk stood waiting to trade empty baskets and coins for filled ones. Jerric guessed that each basket lunch must include at least one bottle from the way folk were carrying them.

Luther placed a pitcher of ale in front of Jerric before he could speculate further. He balanced a parcel wrapped in a large napkin over the top, then he slapped a key onto the bar and slid it over. “You’ll find mugs in your room. Last door on the left, if you’ve forgotten.” His steady gaze did not invite questions.

Jerric paid the man and climbed to his feet, trying to keep confusion off his face. By the time he reached the second level, he decided that Baurus must have left instructions for Luther. A moment’s balancing let him unlock the door. It opened with a leathery thwap.

A length of rigid strap had been fixed across the door frame on the inside to make a noise when it opened. Jerric shook his head. Definitely Baurus’ room. He looked around uneasily, in case there was a trap that might explode.

The room was more spacious than his chamber at the King and Queen Tavern, but less homey. A linen press and arming rack filled one wall, and a large bed stood under the windows. The far corner held a round table and two chairs. A small desk also served as a night stand. Jerric’s eyes were drawn to an odd contraption attached to the window.

A selection of cutlery dangled near the floor, held together by very fine wire. No doubt it would jingle if the window was drawn outward. Jerric thought of the nights to come, camping out with his friends in open country. He decided that such precautions could not be considered excessive once you learned that someone wanted you dead.

Jerric made himself comfortable at the table. First he filled one of the mugs with ale. Then he unwrapped the fragrant parcel.

A wide, flat loaf of bread had been sliced in half lengthwise and filled with slices of ham, cheese, and spicy sausage. Vinegar and oil moistened the bread. Fresh herbs, chopped olives, and roasted red peppers made a colorful layer. Brown mustard and onion chutney rounded out the flavors.

Jerric bit into the sandwich, asking a blessing on Luther from every Divine that came to mind. Then he added one from Sanguine when he took a gulp of the ale. So far waiting for Baurus was not much of a chore.

Halfway through the pitcher and sandwich, Jerric wiped his fingers and opened his daypack. It seemed rude to fully appreciate provocative drawings in another man’s bed chamber, so he got out the two volumes of the Commentaries.

Jerric woke up to find Baurus seated across from him at the table, eating the rest of his sandwich. “I should have put it on your tab,” Jerric said. He poured Baurus a mug of warm ale.

Baurus nodded at the books, chewing.

Jerric wiped sleep drool off his cheek and told the day’s tale while Baurus paged through them.

“You’ve done well,” Baurus said when he had finished. He had the grace not to sound surprised. “You hang onto the first two volumes. Get your Breton friend to look over them, if you like. This reads like nonsense to me.” He closed the book. “I’ll stay here and keep running down leads on the Mythic Dawn. You follow your plan with the Mages Guild. Search for the third and fourth volumes in every city you pass through. I’ll cover Skingrad and Anvil. I know Phintias by reputation. He may be an arrogant son of a dog, but he’s no crook. I believe he’ll send the message if he finds the third or fourth volumes.”

Jerric tucked the books away. “I’m going to use Simeon at Running Wolf as a contact. He’ll send on any messages.”

“How well do you know this man?”

“I got arrested before I could meet him. He’s one of the partners, though, so he goes back with Ongve and my Da all the way to Skyrim. That’s about all I know. They shed blood for each other, so I’m sure he’ll forward a letter for his dead friend’s only living son.” Jerric was more than willing to beat the hell out of Baurus if he questioned his judgment one more time. His knuckles cracked when he flexed his hands.

Baurus folded the napkin around the crumbs. His face was somber and intent. “Keep your faith, Jerric. This struggle has only begun. We will restore the Dragon to his throne. It is the sworn duty of all Blades.”

Jerric took that as a dismissal. He rose and clasped his Knight Brother’s arm. “Talos guide you.”

Out on the street the fading light told him that the dinner hour had arrived. His stomach confirmed it. It was too late to walk all the way to the Running Wolf office at the waterfront and still meet Lildereth and Darnand. Jerric turned his steps toward the Arena District.




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This post has been edited by Grits: Jun 22 2012, 09:53 PM

[ghastley]

so he got out the two volumes of the Commentaries.

Jerric woke up to find Baurus seated across from him at the table,

It's good to know that everyone finds them such exciting reading! But in the game, they're skill books, which would get some attention from the reader, even if the content is dull. Does your reality leave that concept out?

I really liked the way you develop the characters of Baurus and Phintias here. Those details say a lot about them.

This post has been edited by ghastley: Feb 28 2012, 05:11 PM

[mALX]

*

That sleeping Altmer might just have been my first murder, thought Jerric. I wouldn’t mind seeing this man’s blood. “What are the chances of finding them?”

I didn’t get this line, trying to see if I missed something and couldn’t find an Altmer. Where am I going wrong?

Love the Skooma dealing Argonian woman in Luther’s, lol.

It seemed rude to fully appreciate provocative drawings in another man’s bed chamber, so he got out the two volumes of the Commentaries.

Jerric woke up to find Baurus seated across from him at the table, eating the rest of his sandwich.

ROFL !!! Jerric’s mind: Food çè Sex

As always, and AWESOME Write !!!!!!

*

[King Coin]

I think everyone hates Phintias. He’s an ***.

Throw in some erotica and we have a deal


I liked Baurus’ room. Only a Blade would be that paranoid. That’s probably how he’s stayed alive though, digging into the cultists background. There you go, it’s not paranoia, it’s precaution.

…so he got out the two volumes of the Commentaries.

Jerric woke up…
I really liked this! It’s only natural to get out a book when you plan on taking a nap.
I kind of wonder what Darnand will think of them. I’m sure he’ll at least stay awake. Can’t say much more than that though!

[Acadian]

What a wonderful opening that set the tone for this delightful episode! Jerric laments his work today will be inside the walls instead of rolloping down in the horse poo in the Valley of the Horses. And you paint us a fantastic picture of the sights, sounds and smells of the marketplace as he made his way to the First Edition.

Twice Sold Tails Tales! What a wonderful name for the bookstore in Kvatch!

I did remember Jerric’s first murder (the sleeping Altmer) from one of the trio’s dungeon crawls, but mALX is right that the reference might be asking a bit to remember. Perhaps simply mentioning the dungeon in which it occurred would do the trick?

’Jerric left the shop with a nearly empty coin purse’
Buffy surely knows that feeling!

’Luther swiped the already clean counter and flipped the towel back over his shoulder. His eyebrows asked the question.’
Another beautiful example of your magical ability to cleverly paint an amusing picture in so few well-chosen words.

And Baurus’ room with visitor alarms – how very very Baurus!

Your description of that sandwich had me drooling! Just the thing before Jerric’s book-induced nap.

And Jerric wraps up his day just in time for dinner!

Nit? ’Phintias gave him a look of equal parts avarice and distain. Then he quoted a figure that made Jerric’s knees weak.’
Although ‘distain’ is an ancient verb, its meaning (to sully or stain) is probably not what you meant. I suspect you want ‘disdain’ here.

[mALX]

I did remember Jerric’s first murder (the sleeping Altmer) from one of the trio’s dungeon crawls, but mALX is right that the reference might be asking a bit to remember. Perhaps simply mentioning the dungeon in which it occurred would do the trick?

Urk! Now that you pointed out where it was from I do remember it, but didn't get the connection on the read - that was a LONG time ago, def required some reference for my pea brain, lol. Sorry about that !!!

[McBadgere]

Haven't got to that bit yet, (I'm getting there though ), so I assumed it was yet another Something I Didn't Know™...Which covers an awful lot of ground you know?... ...

Aaamywho...

Loved it...The descriptions of the bookshops was brilliant...I wanna go to that one in Kvatch!!...Me likes bookish girls... ...Ace shop name too...Very clever... ...*Applauds*...

The food in Luther's sounds lovely...*Wants some*...And the homemade security measures in Baurus' room were very well done...*Applauds again*...

...so he got out the two volumes of the Commentaries.

Jerric woke up to find Baurus seated across from him at the table, eating the rest of his sandwich...

Everyone's quoting this bit, but I loved it, simply because it's one thing, and then something else, with nothing in between...*Grins*...Always a good thing... ...Plus, it made me laugh a lot too...Also a good thing...

Another brilliant episode that I loved massively...Looking forward to wherever it may roam...

Nice one!!!...

*Applauds mega heartily*...

[SubRosa]

Today’s work was inside the walls, not out under the sun.
Another nice little touch of character-building, reinforcing the kind of person Jerric is.

Twice Sold Tales in Kvatch. All that was missing was kahve and the smiling, bookish girls who served it.
So Borders/Barnes & Noble/every other major bookstore chain do not exist on Earth alone! Seriously though, I love the inclusion of Twice Sold Tales. It is easy to forget that Kvatch ever existed in this game. So it is good to have these little pieces that reinforces that it was in fact a real place.

I wouldn’t mind seeing this man’s blood.
And he is not the only one!

“Throw in some erotica and we have a deal,”
Yep, Pr0N is what makes the world go round!

And back to meet Baurus, James Baurus. His room - and its alarms - does not disappoint one's imagination. Nor does Luther's tasty bread and meat surprise.

[Grits]

ghastley: I’m afraid there’s no magical boost from skill books in the story, just the increased understanding from mundane reading. I think Darnand will get a bit more from Camoran’s ranting writing, since he’ll probably stay awake through more than the first page. Phintias is one of those love to hate characters, so it’s been fun to play with him. Thank you, ghastley!

mALX: As Acadian said, it was back in Fort Strand that Jerric killed a sleeping Altmer without determining if she was a marauder or someone kept there under coercion. He hasn’t wallowed in angst over it, but it’s still on his conscience. Thank you for mentioning the confusion, I added “in Fort Strand” to hopefully clear it up in the story. Bold Baurus can deal with many situations, but I decided to spare him the sight of Jerric enjoying his lunch and a saucy read at the same time. Thank you, mALX!

King Coin: I can’t imagine Phintias hosting a story hour for the little kids. Though that would be fun to write for another town. Hmm. Glad you liked Jerric’s impromptu nap. Thanks, KC!

Acadian: Thank you for finding that nit, and for the suggestion of including the dungeon name as a reminder. The changes have been made. Rolloping in the horse poo was exactly his first choice of activity! It’s not a good day until he’s lost a shirt and near ruined his boots. Thank you, Acadian!

McBadgere: I’m so glad you’re working through the old parts! I would recap for you, but the review would be as long as the original. Thank you, McB! I must confess that the experience of waking up with a book print on the face is not unique to Jerric.

SubRosa: Thank you, SubRosa! I was frantic for a sandwich when I wrote that episode. Plus I long for a browse through a real book store. Our local one has closed its doors. Baurus has been fun to write. He’s a man on the edge in this part of the game.


Where we are: It was evening in the Imperial City. Jerric has gotten the first two volumes of the Commentaries and made a plan with Baurus to obtain the final two books. (Their timeline differs from the game’s.) He had to spend most of his gold convincing Phintias, but at least he got a naughty book in the bargain. Jerric left Baurus to meet Lildereth and Darnand for dinner. Now we hop back in time to the morning of that day to pick up with Darnand.



Chapter 14: The Imperial City, Part Seven

Darnand woke in the dark, disoriented for a moment. Snores and the smell of damp reminded him where he was. The Associates’ hostel at the Arcane University. As he stretched uncomfortably on the wooden platform, his full bladder reminded him that he intended to arise early. Drinking a flagon of water before bed had done the trick.

His night-eye spell allowed him to reach the privy without waking his fellow mages or fumbling with a candle. The hostel had been a recent addition to the University’s amenities, worked into extra space after Arch-Mage Traven had closed the main grounds to so many low-ranking guild members. Visitors with coin stayed in nearby inns and taverns, while those with ambition completed their recommendations so that they might use the guild quarters along with the other facilities in the University proper. Darnand believed that the guild’s reservoir of untapped talent could be found largely in its lowest rank. Surely the guild could spare them a few glowstones.

Darnand had found an abandoned stretch of corridor where the stone floor was less musty. He began to stretch and warm his muscles as he walked there, the way Jerric had shown him. He kept up with his daily exercises, even on the road when he woke up feeling stiff and battered. Every week or so Jerric would reach out and squeeze an arm or prod his belly in the manner of a cook buying an unplucked chicken. The best Darnand could say for himself was that he had gone from thin and soft to merely thin. The best Jerric had said was nothing. Instead of remarking, “Slender as a maiden” or “Good if you’re a potato roll,” lately he just nodded. Darnand took that as encouragement. Improving himself was a hunger inside him. Every day he fed it his aches, fears, and exhaustion. Today was no different.

After a cold but thorough wash, Darnand dressed carefully in his best robe. He packed his belongings neatly away, as was his habit. If only others possessed the same discipline, he thought, stepping over discarded clothing and empty bottles with disdain.

A spell hastened his passage through the awakening streets to the Talos Plaza district. He stood in hope and some awe in front of Ilmerion Manor. Baeralorn, Anvil’s castle mage, had provided an introduction by letter. It would be up to Darnand to convince this Ilmerion to allow access to his library.

The door opened before Darnand had even mounted the step. The ancient Altmer on the threshold regarded him in silence. Surely Ilmerion does not answer his own door, thought Darnand. Or perhaps this is a test.

“Darnand Penoit,” he said, pleased that his voice sounded firm. He stopped himself before he could nervously start explaining.

The Altmer stepped back without a word, leaving the door open. Darnand took a deep breath and followed him inside.

Highly polished stone floors and walls suggested opulence without offering comfort. Darnand followed the Altmer across a broad lobby and up wide stairs. Every door he saw stood closed. The passageways were bare of furnishings and decorations. The only clues to the owner’s taste were the Ayleid style light fixtures and the emptiness itself.

They paused as a set of double doors clicked open at the Altmer’s touch. Darnand walked through slowly, staring up and around. Even Baeralorn’s enthusiastic description had not prepared him for this.

He stood in an oblong room, as wide as it was tall and nearly twice as long. The ceiling soared at least fifty feet above the floor, bathed in magical light. The walls were lined full length with cases, each filled with books, rolled scrolls, and various documents mounted in frames. Three circular platforms stood far above the floor on paneled pedestals. Darnand guessed that they were work areas, but he could not see from this angle. As with the high cases, no means for reaching them was evident. Realization dawned with a shiver. Those who honored the Levitation Act need not bother visiting this library.

A sliver of his mind tried to fit this space into what he had observed from outside the building, while another absently converted the proportions into an equation. He was reminded too late of Jerric’s advice about negotiating with a Nordic prostitute. “Agree on terms before she gets her top off,” his friend had told him. Darnand had dismissed such an event as too unlikely for consideration. Now he realized that he had underestimated Jerric’s wisdom once again. No price would seem too steep, now that Darnand had seen what was on offer.

An elegantly robed Altmer of indeterminable age began walking forward from the far side of the chamber, gaining all of Darnand’s attention. The Altmer’s thin smile told him everything he needed to know. This mer would not waste time on niceties. It would be up to Darnand to agree or depart.

He folded his hands politely and examined the Altmer as he approached. The mer’s skin was smooth, but stretched thin over prominent bones. His silvery hair could be pale blond or something else faded with age. He kept his hands tucked into silken sleeves. His carriage was regal and his progress stately. Darnand’s mind raced as the moments seemed to stretch.

In Anvil, Baeralorn had suggested that Darnand petition Ilmerion for the use of his library, as Baeralorn’s own collection lacked the materials that Darnand required. From his thinly disguised remarks the Altmer was surely a necromancer, among other things. And Baeralorn should know. However he would not have offered an introduction if this mer was likely to kill Darnand. Yet Darnand had little to offer Ilmerion in exchange. The Altmer must have something in mind. Darnand braced himself for an unseemly suggestion.

“You may call me Ilmerion,” said the mer, gliding to a halt just out of reach. He lingered over each word as if savoring it. “You have… questions?”

Darnand decided that introducing himself at this point was simply unnecessary. He tried to keep the tension out of his voice. “Do you use the Arlmilian System?” he asked, nodding at the stacks. It would not do to waste a whole day locating a single resource, regardless of the price.

“Indeed.” Ilmerion paused a moment before continuing. “You will have full access to my library. I shall allow you the use of one office.” He indicated the lowest platform with a glance. “You will not reshelve my materials. Melandiril will assist you. You will leave the library for any physical… needs.” A slight nostril flare dismissed the possibility as beneath Ilmerion. Darnand resolved that he would not have any such needs today, either. His stomach immediately betrayed him with a grumble.

“Ilmerion,” said Darnand, “what may I offer you in return?”

The mer smiled, yellow eyes glittering like a snake’s. “Something that you have in abundance. Your youth and… humanity give you such vitality. I would have just a taste of it.” He leaned forward slightly. “I am skilled enough that you will feel no pain, though some distress would be understandable. I assure you that no lasting harm will result. After all, I wish for us to enjoy a long and mutually beneficial… association.”

“You want my blood?” Darnand blurted, shocked by the bald admission.

Ilmerion made a delicate grimace. “Certainly not. No contact is required for my spell. You may think of it as similar to a Drain effect from your school of Destruction. In time you will recover.”

Darnand’s chest and armpits prickled with sweat. “I expect it is the transfer of energy from one vessel to another, as is done in necromancy. I would know your purpose.”

“It is simple,” said Ilmerion. He placed a languid hand on his own chest. “Here is the receiving vessel. My skills fall between your classifications. You might alternately consider it a restoration.”

Darnand felt a wave of fear along with a vaguely erotic thrill of excitement. Here was more knowledge than he had dreamed to find. Killing someone for their soul energy, enslaving their spirit, or toying with their remains was wrong, clearly. But who was to say that a frantic mother should not be allowed to help her dying child? The mer’s price could give Darnand the means to share energy between living beings, or at least vastly expand his understanding. Abiene’s face shone in his mind, drawn with exhaustion. Why should the burden fall only upon the healers?

His own objections were immediate and strident, but he pushed them away. He found that his throat was too dry to swallow.

“Let us begin,” Darnand said.

___

Dusk had fallen by the time Darnand reached the edge of the Arena District. Spells had kept him moving through the streets, but he could not seem to hold his headache at bay. He blamed the strain of reading unfamiliar languages in faded, archaic script. When he returned to Ilmerion’s, he would not push himself so hard. And perhaps the next time he could learn more of Ilmerion’s spell.

He easily found the tavern that Lildereth had described. The sign beside the door simply read “Champions.” Darnand entered, too tired to ponder the lack of punctuation.

He spotted Lildereth immediately, kneeling gracefully in a chair so that she could comfortably reach the table. Her snug top reminded him how she looked without it. He quickly squashed that fascinating thought. She was occupied arranging something on a plate while slapping her companion’s hand away.

Beside her sat Jerric, disheveled and sweaty despite the evening’s chill. His teasing grin showed purplish teeth, so they had already started the wine. Darnand almost smiled at the sight.

Jerric saw him and filled another goblet. “Surprised to see me?” he asked. “How was the library?”

It was easy to provide a simplified if slightly misleading version of the day, then relax while Jerric entertained them with his banter. As ever his personality seemed even larger than his person. His… vitality, Ilmerion would say. Darnand shuddered at the memory. He resolved that Jerric and the Altmer should never meet.

“Well, there’s another thing,” Jerric was saying, a note of intensity creeping into his voice. Darnand began to pay attention. “I want to get my ring back from the Imperial Watch. It’s with the stuff they took when they arrested me. Hopefully.”

“Ring?” asked Darnand, grasping for context. When had Jerric been arrested?

“A gold band with a white stone, looks a little like a wedding ring. Except for the words on it. That’s why I had it in my pocket. I didn’t want the ladies to think I was married, cheating on my wife. And by ladies, I mean whores.”

“Why did they not return it to you when you were released?” Lildereth asked. “Had you stolen it?”

“Of course not! I can’t believe you even asked me that. I didn’t get out in the usual way. I, uh… well this is going to sound like a bard’s tale, but I escaped the night the Emperor was murdered. It happened right in front of me. It was a real mess, and I didn’t exactly skip back up to the prison and ask for my things back.”

Darnand stared at him. “You are the only person I have ever known who could make me believe that.”

Lildereth chimed in. “And only you could be insulted that I thought you stole something, then in the same breath tell us that you broke out of the Imperial prison.”

“I didn’t break out, I escaped. It’s different.” Jerric had his detached tone, as if he was speaking about someone else. “I just followed the Emperor and his bodyguards. The Blades, you would not believe how impressive they are. Well, were. Most of them died.” His heavy brow furrowed. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

Lildereth silently shook her head.

“No, I can promise you that,” Darnand told him, filing away the knowledge. There must be a secret passage into the palace through the prison. “What is so special about this ring?”

“My sister had it made for me when I turned twenty-five. Oh, and it helps me absorb magicka from attacks.”

Darnand’s eyebrows went up. “Indeed, that is special. Valuable, too. I hope no one took it.”

“I know. My sister was fighting with her husband when she ordered it, lucky for me. He was pretty mad about it, I can tell you.”

“How does the inscription read?” Darnand asked. “Is it some kind of incantation?”

Jerric cleared his throat. “It says, ‘Hump You, Fetching Mages.’ In very nice lettering. My sister’s sense of humor, I wish you could have met her. Also I want my boots back. They’re my lucky boots.”

Darnand fought the urge to laugh. Nords.

Lildereth spoke up. “Jerric, you were arrested and taken to prison on the night of the Emperor’s assassination, which you say happened right in front of you. How in sixteen realms could that possibly be lucky?”

“I was arrested a day or so before.” Jerric scratched a hand through his hair, a familiar sign of increasing tension. “Imagine what could have happened without the boots. Besides I had on those damn prison sandals for the murder. Maybe my boots would have helped. Anyway that’s all I have from… before. Look, I don’t want to talk about it. You two just think of a plan.”

Darnand decided he could risk one more question. If Jerric got upset, perhaps Lildereth would Calm him. He tried to give her a look, but her beautiful eyes were fixed on their friend.

“That is how you knew about the cult,” Darnand said softly. “Your ordeal did not begin at Kvatch.”

The haunted look from the nights slipped over Jerric’s face. Lildereth reached for his hand.

“Yeah,” he said.

Darnand felt as if he was being shaken like a puzzle board while tiles clicked into place. As Jerric struggled to regain his composure, Darnand fought with his own. If he had made accurate connections, his friend’s burden was far more than one simple man should bear.

“My chamber has a big bed,” Jerric was saying to him. Darnand had missed another change in subject. “There was plenty of room for me and Rilian. You’re taller than him, but he’s…” The Nord made a gesture. “Shoulders.” He cut his eyes at Lildereth, his smile slowly returning. “And there’s always room for one more page in a book, elflet.”

“My accommodations are comfortable, but thank you for the offer,” Lildereth replied. She lifted the wine. “Is there room for one more drop in your goblet?”

“Always.” Jerric took the bottle and emptied it between the three of them. “Staying with a friend?” he asked her.

She answered with a cool look. Darnand sighed. One lifetime of study would not be enough for him to pry information out of Lildereth, and Jerric fared no better. Jerric’s gaze turned to Darnand.

The thought of the dismal subterranean hostel made him cringe, yet Jerric’s tendency to smother his bedfellows could result in Darnand being the one who woke up screaming. He decided that his own comfort was secondary to his friend’s. Besides, he did not relish the thought of facing tonight’s darkness alone. “I accept,” he said. “Lildereth, I shall walk with you back to the university and collect my things. If that is where you are bound?”

“I’ll go with you, too,” Jerric said as she nodded. “This day has been too much sitting.” Jerric pointed at Darnand’s plate. “Eat up, Breton, you’re looking puny. I have some books for you to ponder over later. Do you read Dunmeris?”

“Some,” Darnand admitted, thinking of the translations in his shoulder pack. He picked up his spoon.

Jerric grinned. “You should get ready to expand your vocabulary.”




.

This post has been edited by Grits: Mar 8 2012, 08:43 PM

[King Coin]

Darnand is much different from when he first met Jerric. I remember him scoffing at the idea of using a knife to harvest ingredients. I’m sure that Darnand didn’t do any exercising either. He’s no fighter, but a good set of legs will help anyone when Bad things happen.

What a library! I thought Darnand was going to pass out!

“Agree on terms before she gets her top off”
I like this because that’s exactly what Jerric would say, and I like it how Darnand swapped prostitute for library. I’m not exactly sure what the heck Darnand did to gain entry, but yikes. that guy sounded like a vampire of some type. I hope Darnand doesn’t have to go back there very often.

Lildereth has a point. Escaping prison is a teeny bit worse than stealing a ring I think.

The dinner conversation was neat. Jerric really spilled some news on them that I thought he would have kept to himself. Maybe that wasn't the first bottle.

[McBadgere]

Beautiful!!... ...

Loved it...

That library was so beautifully realised...I really felt myself there...Must...Build...Library...Like that...*Sighs happily*... ...

OOoh, talking of which...

The mer’s skin was smooth, but stretched thin over prominent bones. His silvery hair could be pale blond or something else faded with age. He kept his hands tucked into silken sleeves. His carriage was regal and his progress stately.

That was so Gary Oldman as the old Dracula in the castle...Creepy and brilliant at the same time...

That whole section was brilliant...So brilliant...

I likes me Darnand I do... ...

And you could feel the affection at the end between the three of them...Another display of brilliance...Made me laugh so much...

This had me in stitches...

“I was arrested a day or so before.” Jerric scratched a hand through his hair, a familiar sign of increasing tension. “Imagine what could have happened without the boots..."

Oh hells that was funny... ...

Absolutely nice one with added bells on!!...

*Applauds till he gets slapped by the wife for interrupting the repeat of Castle...*... ...

[ghastley]

He was reminded too late of Jerric’s advice about negotiating with a Nordic prostitute. “Agree on terms before she gets her top off,”
I like the way you left us wondering if Jerric was being literal or metaphoric when he said that. Probably both. And it was also indicative of something that Darnand thought of that saying, especially as later he starts to notice Lildereth.
Her snug top reminded him how she looked without it. He quickly squashed that fascinating thought.
and later
He tried to give her a look, but her beautiful eyes were fixed on their friend.

Is it Springtime?

Another bit that caught my eye: "How in sixteen realms could that possibly be lucky?” A very TES way of putting it.

And right at the end I see that Jerric's intending to give him the book he bought at The First Edition, as well as the Commentaries. So Jerric's noticed Darnand noticing Lildereth?

[Acadian]

What a great opening! You so deftly and naturally let us know exactly where we were, how and why Darnand got up early, and even gave us a clever glimpse into an everyday use of nighteye.

’Highly polished stone floors and walls suggested opulence without offering comfort.’
Another example of a Grits masterpiece where you paint by words. So much evocatively said in so few words. Wow!

Like KC, I adored the Nordic prostitute angle on keeping Jerric fresh in our minds -- such an astutely appropriate observation that, once again, leaves me in awe of your cleverness.

Ilmerion’s offer and Darnand’s considered response were handled perfectly to optimize tension – you told us just enough, but not too much.

’He spotted Lildereth immediately, kneeling gracefully in a chair so that she could comfortably reach the table.’
The elf on my shoulder is smacking herself on the forehead for not thinking of this improved access to ‘normal’ size tables from ‘normal’ size chairs.

“How in sixteen realms could that possibly be lucky?”
I love the reference to the realms of Daedric Princes.

Wonderful friendships and trusts confirmed in the latter conversations of this episode.

What a treat!


Nit: ’If only others possessed the same discipline, he thought, stepping over discarded clothing and empty bottles with distain.’
Distain is an archaic verb meaning to discolor stain or sully. Although it is not what you want here, it will not be highlighted by spell check because, again, it is a word – just not the one you want here. What you want in this passage (similar to the nit in your last episode) is the word disdain, which suits your purpose perfectly.

[ghastley]

I just noticed that the word "mother of mine" (singular) is bowdlerized but "whores" (plural) isn't. Wassup with that?

This post of course illustrates the effect.

This post has been edited by ghastley: Mar 8 2012, 08:09 PM

[SubRosa]

Surely the guild could spare them a few glowstones.
I loved Darnand's observations about how the guild treats is low-ranking members. Closing the Arcane U to most of the Mages Guild always struck me as ridiculous, and especially those silly recommendation quests.

Those who honored the Levitation Act need not bother visiting this library.
This gave me a grin.

Ilmerion is an intriguing fellow. An old Altmer, which says something right there. To even look old, he must be 4-5 centuries? He undoubtedly remembers what Tamriel was like before Tiber Talos came along. The barreness of the outer areas of his home, juxtaposed with the extraordinary nature of his library, reveal where his passions lie. It also makes me think he is someone who does not do anything half-way. He is either totally committed to something, or he does not waste one moment's breath on it at all.

the Arlmilian System?
I was almost expecting the Dewenor Decimal System

Killing someone for their soul energy, enslaving their spirit, or toying with their remains was wrong, clearly. But who was to say that a frantic mother should not be allowed to help her dying child?
And so Darth Darnand Vader began his path down the dark side... I love his rationalizations. Not that I doubted what he would do for a moment.

Now I wonder if Ilmerion might be at least twice the age I first thought? Perhaps even much older then that? He is a wonderfully intriguing character. I hope we see more of him. Even if we have to wait until Darnand becomes a Necromancer in book 2.


nits:
From his thinly disguised remarks the Altmer was a surely a necromancer,
I think the first "a" is a leftover from a previous edit. Perhaps it was reanimated by the libarary's owner?

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Mar 8 2012, 08:23 PM

[RainbowVeins]

Elflet. Hehe I love it. Very interesting about Ilmerion, I'm looking forward to seeing more about that. The the banter between Jerric, Darnand and Lildereth was great as always. I'll also mention Darnand's realization of what Jerric's been going through, just because I'm not quite sure what to say about it other than pointing out the fact that it's awesome. If I may state the obvious. Such perception Darnand has.

[Athynae]

YAY!!!! Finally caught up....the humor that catches you off guard is so much fun. The entire deal with the ring and prison was great!

Ilmerion is frighteningly interesting...the descriptions of the manor and the absence of softness or comfort was chilling but man do I want some time in that library...I LOVE book stores but sadly there are so few left.

The entire story is quite wonderful and I do enjoy reading about Jerric and the characters that fade in and out of his life...I will work harder at keeping up, my apologies Grits for being remiss with one of my favorite stories.

[treydog]

11, 7

What a subtle way to show Jerric’s growing skill as an alchemist- with his potions coming out clear.

[quote]“That used to be someone’s kids, Darnand. No matter how they ended up undead, making potions out of them doesn’t seem right.”[/quote]

Especially given all he is experienced, Jerric’s feelings are more than just admirable.

[quote]“Sitting still. Just what I’m good at.” Jerric ran his hand through his hair, restless at the thought.[/quote]

Love that bit of character building.

And yes! He has achieved Mastery of Alchemy!

[quote]“Though it would be nice to get a finer grind from a mortar and pestle. When we were in Garlas Malatar, I almost choked to death on a bit of mushroom. Then I thought Lildereth was going to shoot me for the noise I made coughing it up.”

You will make twice as many potions for Kvatch now, if you can resist the urge to fry up your potatoes.”

“I’d need a bigger calcinator,” Jerric said thoughtfully. His stomach gurgled.[/quote]

And- as ever- the back and forth between Jerric and Darnand is just so much fun. And that includes the “grooming tips” before the feast.

11, 8

[quote]A full belly, a warm fire, and clothing, he thought. Choose any two.[/quote]

The motto on Jerric’s heraldry, no doubt.

[quote]Lildereth’s voice sounded strained. “Here, you just have to—” Snap. “A lighter touch on the wrench, and—” Snap. “Jerric, you—” Snap. “Argh!” Snap.[/quote]

The scene before the fire is just one of those pictures that is so wonderful I would have to quote it all. Then we get to learn more about Lildereth, too.

[quote]She stood within his easy reach, but might as well be in Bruma. Wanting her went far beyond his body’s ache. Who cares what eyes are watching, he thought with some resentment. I love her. The rest is foolishness. He quickly crushed the thought.[/quote]

Wow.

11, 9

The whole scene with the daedroth is another that I would have to quote in full to do justice. Wonderfully descriptive- and terrifying. Well- have to highlight this part:

[quote]“Do you think you could have cast a spell?” Darnand asked. Jerric still couldn’t see him, his gaze seemed stuck to the ceiling.

“I know spells?” I’m alive, Jerric thought. That was the stupidest idea ever.[/quote]

And this one:

[quote]He saw Rhano and Darnand exchange a look, and he smiled to himself. The common ground was slim between the two of them. Jerric knew that he occupied all of it.[/quote]

11, 10

[quote]Jerric had been using this route for exercise since he grew large enough to pose a hazard to the public by running inside the city.[/quote]

Now there is a picture.

The entire part with bears and tree rats was great fun, including this:

[quote]Jerric realized that the golden bear had a familiar yet somewhat unusual combination of West Weald accent and Gold Coast drawl.[/quote]

[quote]Jerric unhooked his helmet and put it on. He drank his first shield potion before she could remind him. “Anything else?”

“Your fly is open,” Lildereth said without looking.

Jerric checked, but it was laced.[/quote]

Simply love this Bosmer archer.

And a dog- woo hoo!

11, 11

The scene as Jerric makes the decision to kill the Altmer was incredibly powerful.

And then the entire fight in the final room, especially with Jerric under the influence of the Coommand.

[quote]“Well,” Jerric said after a moment, “at least they’re not sitting around talking about us.”[/quote]

And what more is there to say, really?

11, 12

Hooray for Ulfe.

[quote]“I doubt she was an innocent,” Lildereth told him. “If you dream of assassins, you’ll know she was.”

Jerric decided he wouldn’t notice one more bad dream.[/quote]

11, 13

[quote]Darnand cleared his throat. “How goes the poison training?” he asked.

Lildereth slipped into the room behind Jerric. “I’d sooner teach a boar to sew,” she spat.

Jerric didn’t look at her. “Nothing but rules, this one,” he told the table. “‘Don’t cut yourself! Don’t pull the cork with your teeth! Don’t spill the poison! Don’t touch your face! Quit wiping your fingers on your shirt!’” He realized that the crunching sound was coming from his knuckles.[/quote]

I have a feeling some folk who tried to teach me had similar feelings about it.

[quote]Jerric had discovered that while the hound seemed tireless outdoors, under a roof she became almost immobile.[/quote]

There speaks a person who knows dogs.

Shasana’s greeting was quite wonderful.

[quote]His friend’s face could have been made of stone. He lost them all too, Jerric thought. It’s worse when we’re here. He wants to run from me as much as I want to get away. But this is something we can do for Ongve and Shasana.[/quote]

And there is the part of loss that makes it even harder.

11,14

This one is filled with descriptive passages that I envy. I will note only a few, lest I simply copy and paste the whole thing.

[quote]At the guild hall he often moved like a horse surprised to find itself at a tea party.[/quote]

[quote]“For me it’s a matter of exchanging cold for heat in the water,” Lildereth explained. “Fire has nothing to do with it.”[/quote]

[quote]"You must see me take a turn about the floor with Carahil. It is the dance of the chaffinch and the crane.”[/qoute]

[qoute]And the bonding of Lildereth and Abiene is a joy to see, even as I wonder at the Bosmer’s tiredness….[/quote]

[mALX]

Holy Crap, what a chapter! I don't like the after effects of Darnard's experimental step into the world of necromancy. His quest for knowledge may put him in more danger than he realizes. Jerric finally opening up the nightmares was odd, since Baurus warned him anyone that knew may be in danger - something is going on there, and I feel like I've been left hanging on a cliff with this chapter. It is always an Awesome Write when you are weilding the keyboard, but this chapter in particular left more questions than answered any - I am intrigued !!!!

[Grits]

King Coin: I’m glad you pointed out the difference in Darnand since he met Jerric. He is definitely more connected to the rest of the world now. If Baurus knew the information that Jerric had spilled at dinner, his head would explode. Jerric is not a very good secret agent! At least he hasn’t mentioned Martin, yet. I’m glad the Altmer sounded something like a vampire, that’s just what I was aiming for. Thank you, KC!

McBadgere: I had to control myself with the library description, or we would spend the next two updates there. I had fun with it. You are so right, I’m sure I was thinking of Gary Oldman when I wrote Ilmerion! In the movie he even had a butt-shaped hairstyle, just like some Altmers. Thank you, McB!

ghastley: I discovered when I wrote in the Skyrim thread that Jensa described herself as a “drunken dreamy school girl,” but she and a friend would be “drunken sluts.” Maybe allowing the plural is just an oversight? You did notice Darnand noticing Lildereth, but I’m sure that Jerric expects him to enjoy the book solo rather than read it to her. And if there’s a way to prank Darnand with erotic drawings, Jerric will find it. Thank you, ghastley!

Acadian: Argh, that word again! Thank you for pointing it out. As long as we have Altmers and Darnand in the story, we will have disdain. Perhaps next time I will get it right!! Thank you for your encouraging words about the scene with Ilmerion. Part of those two characters in that situation was that explanations would not be offered or required between them. That was not easy for me to write! I’m glad you enjoyed Lildereth’s restaurant antics. The elf-sized female in my household is a constant source of inspiration!

SubRosa: I was tempted to use the Dwemer Decimal System, but that was too silly even for me. Thanks for finding that stray “a,” I put it to rest. Darnand shares your opinion of the new guild restrictions. I’m glad you pointed out his annoyance, it was another little nudge toward Ilmerion’s way. You picked up what I was trying to show about Ilmerion, thank you! I’m not sure how much time he will get in the story, but you have nailed his potential influence on Darnand. Ilmerion also has me digging through game books to learn more so I can write for him. Jerric’s Story is in danger of becoming Everyone’s Story!

RainbowVeins: It’s great to hear from you! Thank you for pointing out the depth of Darnand’s understanding of Jerric, it means a lot that it’s coming through. Darnand’s tendency to hyper-focus sometimes makes him oblivious to things, but it also leads to some solid insights. I’m glad you enjoyed the banter. For all that they’ve been through, their friendship is still fairly new, so it’s fun for me to show them staying connected.

Athynae: I’m so glad you’re reading! Free time is precious, and it is an honor that you choose to spend some of yours with this story. I know how it is, I’m still catching up on some of the other stories here. We’ll be here whenever you have time for us! I’m glad you enjoy the humor. Jerric can be such fun to write. Thank you, Athynae!!

treydog: So many of the quotes you highlighted were the inspiration points for their whole sections. Your comments had me nodding and grinning throughout. It means so much that they stood out to you. I loved writing the Anvil days, and I have to confess that I enjoyed revisiting those sections through your comments. At the time that I wrote those parts, I was not sure that what I wanted to convey was coming through. Being objective about my own characters is something I’ve not learned yet. I’m so glad you like Lildereth. It has been tricky for me to express her complicated character without having it look like inconsistencies or dumping a bunch of background that she would not choose to share. Thank you so much for your encouragement, treydog!!

mALX: You’re absolutely right, Darnand is paying a price for knowledge that his friends would think is insane. I can just hear him saying, “I can handle it.” Jerric will certainly kick himself over telling them about the Emperor, as it’s one step closer to blurting out something about hope for the future and Martin. He was not thinking beyond his trust in them and his need for help in getting his gear back. He really stinks at being a spy. Thank you for pointing that out, mALX! You brought out the two things that I thought were the most important in this update!


Where we are: The Imperial City. Darnand spent the day in the private library of an ancient and well-preserved Altmer, Ilmerion. The admission price was a slice of Darnand’s “vitality,” which he was assured would grow back in time. Ilmerion indicated that he would like Darnand to return. Then Lildereth and Jerric met Darnand for dinner. Jerric surprised them with his announcement that he had witnessed and been unable to prevent the murder of Emperor Uriel. They made a plan to get Jerric’s stuff back from the Imperial Prison, including an enchanted ring and charmed boots. Darnand agreed to room with Jerric at the King and Queen Tavern.

A memory refresher: Jerric used to work as a caravan guard for his family’s company, Running Wolf Postal and Freight. He was promoted to his (much older) brother Rothmund’s route between Kvatch and the Imperial City just before the assassination.

A thought: Lore gives us the Earthbones, so I’m going to quit avoiding words containing “earth.”



Chapter 14: The Imperial City, Part Eight

Darnand had already gone by the time Jerric awakened. He spent the morning looking for work. To his annoyance the first Fighters Guild hall that he found was only an office handling long-term contracts for local, non-residential members. He had to walk to the Arena District chapter for temporary work. There he took a contract guarding sewer workers for the rest of the week, starting the next day. Between the low pay, the stench, and the occasional vampire, it seemed they had trouble keeping guards. Jerric signed the paperwork and accepted a Guild surcoat without enthusiasm.

He was soon grateful for the opportunity he would have to refill his coin purse. The walk to the Waterfront took him through every kind of urban neighborhood he could imagine, and many streets were lined with food vendors. It was a culinary tour of the provinces.

Though he had not entered the Running Wolf offices or warehouse during his first visit to the Imperial City, he knew where to find them. A pleasant Imperial woman directed him to the boss's office.

Simeon the White Pate was a sturdy, weathered Nord in possession of a full head of iron-grey hair, and his beard was almost as dark. He looked up from his parchment with an expression that did not invite whimsy. Jerric decided that the story of his name would have to wait for another day. There was no telling how this man would receive him. A direct approach might be best.

“I’m Jerric.”

The man stared at him for a long moment. His face remained rigid, but his eyes filled with pain. “I know who you are. You have the look of your ma’s folk.”

Jerric didn’t have a reply to that. “Pleased to meet you. I need your help.”

“Name it.”

“You’ll get a message for me from Phintias of First Edition in the Market District,” Jerric told him. “I need it to find me as fast as possible. I’ll be in one of the Mages Guild chapter halls. I’m headed to Chorrol in a few days. I’ll send a message when I leave there, to tell you where I’m going next.”

“It will be done.”

Jerric spent a moment in surprise. He didn’t know the history between Simeon and his parents, but the man’s accent told him it probably went back to Skyrim. He knew that Simeon and his father had trusted one another, but were not friends. Also, his own reputation was not unblemished. He had expected at least some resistance from Simeon.

“What did she tell you about me?” Simeon asked.

“Who?”

“You’re as thick as your da. Who do you think? Sonstra. Your ma.”

Jerric was too startled to be insulted. Besides, it was true. “Uh… nothing. You’re one of the partners. Why?”

Simeon stared some more, still stone-faced. “You ever think about going to Skyrim, you come see me first. You’re a Hammer-Helm, to those with the eyes to see it. There are things you should know.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Or ask Ongve.”

Jerric’s life-long curiosity about his family’s history seemed to have fallen into the gulf left by their passing. He left Simeon the White Pate without further questions and made the long trek back across the city to the Imperial Prison.

Lildereth was scouting a nearby ruin for Welkynd stones, so they had agreed that Darnand would help Jerric at the prison. They were to meet in the Market District.

Jerric found himself walking behind a woman whose clingy gown did little to minimize her figure’s bounce and sway. The occasional glimpse of her profile made him suspect she had alteration magic on her side. To his delight, she led him all the way to where Darnand waited, sitting cross-legged at the base of a statue. He held a book open in his hands, but his eyes weren’t on the page.

Jerric gave Darnand’s knee a nudge to secure his attention. “That was worth the wait, wouldn’t you say?”

His friend looked at him with a complete lack of comprehension.

“Darnand, she walked right past you.” He tried to point to her without pointing. “Her mountains could blot out the sun. Are you saying you didn’t see her?”

Darnand pinched the bridge of his nose. “Apologies. I was involved with my thoughts. I must admit, at times I fail to see that which is directly before me.” He slid down from his perch. “Good morning.”

“Afternoon,” said Jerric. He walked so that his shoulder opened a path for both of them. “Remember the plan?”

Darnand nodded. “I remember.”

The Prison District was enclosed by a circular wall and laid out in fashion that was similar to the Arcane University. A high bridge connected it to the City Isle. The sunken gardens were replaced by utility yards and offices for the Legion. The metal gates bore an Imperial symbol instead of the Mages Guild’s eye. These gates stood open. Jerric could see legionnaires drilling on the grounds. As always, he marveled at so many men and women doing exactly as they were told.

Armored guards stood at the base of the steps. “We have business at the Bastion,” Jerric told them. A cold breeze across his face told him that he was sweating. They were directed up the steps and into the central tower.

A grizzled Redguard man in Legion plate sat behind a polished desk in the middle of the round chamber. He regarded them without expression as they approached.

Jerric tripped heavily against the desk to distract him while Darnand cast a Charm spell.

The guard lunged to his feet. “Have you lost your mind, boy? Damned spell-caster. I ought to lock you up for assault.” He stuck a thumb into his own chest, but did not reach for his mace. “Sign of the Atronach. Didn’t work on me. Now what do you want, citizens?”

Darnand looked like a startled deer. He was capable of very quick thinking, but he was best when thoroughly prepared. No brilliant plan seemed forthcoming from the Breton. Jerric was at a loss. Darnand was the brains, and Lildereth was… the rest of the brains. How could they have no backup plan?

The jailer looked like he was losing his patience. Jerric cleared his throat.

“Look. I got locked up the last time I was in town, and I never made it back up here for my gear. Got into a fight. There was a mix-up when I got… released, but I can give you my name, date of arrest, anything you need. Just ask the question. My answer will be the same as what’s in your intake ledger. You have my shirt, trousers, belt, coin purse, and boots. Two short blades. If I don’t get my boots back… Well, you know how hard it is to break in new boots.”

“They sent you down below for brawling?” asked the jailer.

“I guess I was not a gentleman.”

The jailer continued to glare for a long moment. “Name?” he finally said.

Jerric felt a cold rush of relief. “Jerric Kjellingson of Kvatch, arrested Last Seed the twenty-fifth.”

The Redguard’s face filled with an angry kind of hurt. He walked into the left side passage, eyes downcast in a way that was familiar. In a few moments he returned with a coarse linen sack and a new attitude. “Still tied and sealed, look there.”

“You had someone in Kvatch?” Jerric asked.

The man gave a quick nod. Jerric knew that was all that needed to be said.

Jerric waited until he and Darnand got out into the sun before he rummaged through his belongings. A part of him grieved that the shirt he had worn that day was not one that his ma had made for him.

His trousers smelled dreadful and held some crusty stains. The ring was still in a pocket. Jerric felt almost weak with relief as he slipped it on and looked down at his hand. It was as familiar as the scars on his knuckles. Sunlight flashed in the clear stone, throwing tiny rainbows across his doublet. He smiled at the elegant lettering with its coarse message. His sister Svanja had somehow possessed both earthiness and refinement. Jerric’s throat began to ache with memories.

The ring was loose, so he moved it to his middle finger. Now it was a reminder that things were not the same.

“Telling the truth was not an option I considered,” said Darnand, interrupting Jerric’s darkening thoughts. “I must admit, I am impressed with your acting. You had me convinced that you might actually vomit.”

“That’s how I look when I think about lying,” Jerric explained. “It’s not so good when someone asks me if I like their cooking. Or, gods help me, if their waist looks thick in a certain dress.”

“I am relieved that the Watch did not want you for questioning.”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. “That crossed my mind, too. I guess they don’t really have a procedure for losing prisoners. Now that I think about it, they probably didn’t even know that I left. They should have stuck me in the overnight lockup, but I guess I must have made the arresting officers pretty mad. Someone thought they should issue me prison garb and bury me in the dark for a few days, anyway. It might even have been Rothmund. Paying off a guard so I’d have to walk home to Kvatch by myself would have been his style. I could never tell which was worse, when I disappointed him or when I failed to disappoint him.”

Jerric handed the bundle and Fighters Guild surcoat to Darnand and bent to remove his boots.

“These boots do not carry a good luck charm,” Darnand remarked.

“What are you talking about? Of course they do. My ma gave them to me. She would never tell me a lie!” Jerric found that the front of Darnand’s robe was twisted into his fist. He let go and brushed off his friend, calming himself.

“Hold your temper. Read the enchantment.”

Jerric did, and his eyebrows went up. “It’s a charm to let me move faster.” He paused, puzzled.

“What exactly did your mother say when she gave them to you?”

“She had just spent a pile of gold paying a healer to put my front teeth back in, and I came home with them in my pocket again. She said if I didn’t have the sense to keep my hands up in a fight, maybe these boots would help. And I should think about those who had to look at the face I brought home.” He smiled at the memory. “That was my ma for you.”

“So…”

“Not a good luck charm.” Jerric had a distressing thought. “Stendarr’s stones! The coins I wagered wearing these boots! The coins I lost!”

“Well, they would have been lost when—” Darnand suddenly looked horrified.

Jerric stomped into the charmed boots while he pulled himself together. “You’re right, it’s all rain into Lake Rumare now.” He shook his head. “Now I’m starting to remember all the times I did get lucky. I guess it wasn’t the boots.” He grinned when he got the expected look from Darnand.

“I suppose you will want to blame them for your unfortunate speed in some of those instances.”

Jerric laughed. “I guess I have a new excuse for my occasional shortcomings. No, a new reason. Serves me right. I always knew it was rude to keep my boots on.”