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

[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.”

[Athynae]

I enjoyed the touch on this one. I'm not sure what the relationship between Simeon and Jerric's mother was, though speculation is ... never mind....the scene between them was very well done.

He knew that Simeon and his father had trusted one another, but were not friends.

That line makes you go HHMM????

When Darnand cast the charm spell I was like OOPPSIE, sounds like a Thyna moment, but it all turned out thankfully. The truth is always worth a shot....

Jerric realizing the boots were not 'lucky' just fast was priceless, what good is a good luck charm if it isn't lucky...rabbit's foot anyone? Where did I put that rabbit???

Looking forward to more Grits...always worth reading, always.

[McBadgere]

YAY!!... ...

Loves me Jerric do I!!...

I thought the first bit where he's going to be spending the time working for the Fighters Guild was nicely done, and the walk through the various districts was brilliant...I could feel the whole thing...Nice one!!...

Simeon the White Pate

Is an excellent name!!...And an intriguing character...I too wish to know the history there... ...

The section with him running through the pack of his clothes and things was beautiful...You could feel him get all emotional...Again, brilliantly done...

MORE!!!... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...

[ghastley]

Her mountains could blot out the sun.

How did Hidy Heidi get into your story?

I'm a little surprised that Jerric didn't consider the Atronach possibility when putting plan A together. But plan B probably worked better anyway.

She said if I didn’t have the sense to keep my hands up in a fight, maybe these boots would help.

That made me expect "Fortify Block" rather than Speed. “Now I’m starting to remember all the times I did get lucky. I guess it wasn’t the boots.” Block might be useful here too.

My take on "earth" is that it's a legitimate word for soil, or ground, rather than planet. My general test is to assume the story was translated into English from Cyrodiilic. If there isn't a better word, use it.

This post has been edited by ghastley: Mar 20 2012, 02:02 PM

[SubRosa]

I feel your pain on using the world "earth". I always want to say: unearthly, or earthenware, or earthworks, or 'and handful of earth', etc... Bethesda made the mistake of naming their world Nirn instead of Earth. But then they go and write 'earth' all the the time, like with the earthbones, and a zillion other things. Why did they call it Nirn then? This is why you should always name your fantasy world earth.

The IC Fighters Guild protects sewer workers? I love the idea! Now that is a crappy job!

A Hammer-Helm? I can tell that was inspired by the Battle-Borns and Grey Manes. An excellent Nord clan name. Even if it does imply that they spend their time banging their heads against the wall! Or perhaps because of it?

As always, he marveled at so many men and women doing exactly as they were told.
This is a wonderfully insightful look into Jerric's character. I am the same way. I could never handle being in the military, I am too much of a free spirit.

Someone got upset when a charm spell was cast upon them! Yay! It never made sense that you could just go around casting spells on people in the game, and no one would pay attention to it.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Mar 20 2012, 03:44 PM

[mALX]

This chapter had it all: The mystery of Jerric's lineage, the ever-present pain of Kvatch shared with the prison guard - huge surprise when he caught Darnand's spell, Jerric's always roving mind and humor. I can't help but worry about Darnand's distraction, but he pulled himself together for that last paragraphs on the boots - that had me rolling !!! As always, absolutely AWESOME Write !!!!!!!

This post has been edited by mALX: Mar 20 2012, 04:55 PM

[Acadian]

Yes, this episode covered a lot of ground – and beautifully.

’Jerric was too startled to be insulted. Besides, it was true.’
How very Jerric!

’Jerric’s life-long curiosity about his family’s history seemed to have fallen into the gulf left by their passing.’
A superbly worded extrication from the tantalizing conversation that preceded.

’He walked so that his shoulder opened a path for both of them.’
Just as you reminded us of Lildereth’s size by having her kneel on a chair in the last episode, here you remind us of Jerric’s.

’Darnand was the brains, and Lildereth was… the rest of the brains.’
As I encountered the '...' in the middle of this passage, I was anticipating another Gritty jewel of sexual innuendo; this was even better!

“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.”
Aww, this was beautiful.

“You’re right, it’s all rain into Lake Rumare now.”
How wonderfully scene appropriate. The very end part about Jerric's boots reminded me of Koalas and the use of commas. A Koala eats roots, shoots and leaves. It seems Jerric eats, roots, shoots and leaves.

[King Coin]

… and many streets were lined with food vendors.
Jerric’s not going to be able to fit into that surcoat.

Now I’m interested in Jerric’s family. Maybe a trip to Skyrim in the far future?

Oh wow. Getting the gear back could have turned out a lot worse.

Hah! The “lucky boots” were still well worth going back for though!

[Olen]

And caught up.... Woo that was long and fun.

First thing - really great characters. They spring to life and have their flaws and strengths. Their interactions are a joy to read. You've created ones who fit together just as often as they don't with great interactions either way. They change too, particularly between Darnard and Jerric who have worn the edges which didn't mesh off each other slowly over the process of the last 14 chapters.

I like how progressive the changes have been too, Kvatch certainly changed Jerric a bit, but there's a lot of the old Jerric there. Darnard has had no real turning point, except possibly with the deadroth and the sirens, but is a very different character now than he was at the start. Jerric has improved him and made him a lot more determined and less reserved, but I think he might have created a bit of a nutter too. His thirst for knowledge, and particularly forbidden knowledge, really leaps off the page but he always seems on the verge of slipping into something a bit darker than is perhaps wise. But always for the right reasons, selling a bit of his vitality for access to vast knowledge makes sense at the time, taking papers from necromancers? Why not, better than burning them. But it all sets precidents. I rather wonder if and when it will bite him or he'll go too far.

Jerric is fun, its so rare to have a hero who is so real. He's fundamentally okay but likes a drink and a fight and a bit of womanising. And he's not the brightest which is a real challenge to write but he flows so perfectly and leaps from the page. His fling with Abienne was great to read, you caught the slight awkwardness of fun slipping towards more when it shouldn't and both them knowing it was happening but not doing anything about it. Really very well written, I can see that little disaster dragging on when they reach Chorrol.

Lildereth is a bit of a wild card, not the sort of character you would associate with the comic pairing of Jerric and Darnard, but one who works well. You have her perfectly pitched, aloof and slightly disant and superior but with the occasional crack showing some of the person within. She has something she wants, and I'm not sure how the other two will take it when they find out.

The final comment I'll make on the piece as a whole is how well you manage to mix the humour and darkness of it together. There's something quite moreish and engaging about how it can go from Jerric being slapstick and inappropriate to really dark sections with him technically murdering and the death of Kvatch. His sister's ring captures that quite well with the humorous inscription but painful memories. It works for this piece.

You have some nice ideas too, connecting restoration and necromancy is novel, but makes sense in a way. Along with a huge number of other things - the women using alteration for her figure, the crowds at the daedric shrines, the real working feel of the towns - it really brings your ambitious version of Cyrodiil to life.


On the subject of this chapter. The plot continues to fascinate, what is Darnard doing in the library, what more will he find, and how bad is that price? The idea of needing fighters to guard sewage workers makes sense and continues to enrich your setting, again I wonder if Jerric will turn up more then he expects.

Great stuff

[Grits]

Athynae: Jerric might not have made a wrong assumption if he had just listened to his mother!! Thank you for the reassurance about the scene with Simeon. There’s no “I am your father” moment coming, Jerric is definitely Kjelling’s son. But there is a story that I hope to explore someday, either with or without Jerric. Learning things about your parents tends to change the way you think of them, and Jerric might not get to a point where he could handle that.

McBadgere: Here’s more without too much delay, since this part was the last part of the previous part, until it all got a little too long. I’m glad that looking through his things had an impact. Even the good memories still bring him kind of a punch in the gut. I am SO in awe of the names in your story, you have inspired me to keep trying until I get one I love! Thank you, McB!

ghastley: The mountainous maiden was definitely a tribute to ghastley’s glorious girls. Fortify Block is a great idea! Sonstra went with the more aggressive choice of getting his strikes in quicker, since her lad was utterly failing to block. I hope I can take him to Skyrim someday. Shields were made for bashing!! They’re all going to be kicking themselves over the Atronach oversight. With bottles of wine on the table, no threat of imminent death, and enjoying each other’s company, they didn’t take the plan very seriously. Thanks for your input on the wording. Assuming that the whole thing is translated is a great way to look at it.

SubRosa: I had the worst time coming up with a clan name. Everything sounded like a male body part joke. (Ha! The censor turned the technical term into “panda bear.”) I blame Jerric’s snickering influence. At first I had Sonstra as a Free-Winter. That one’s my favorite from the game. They sure picked the wrong guy to botch up the charm spell! They could have ended up sending Lildereth notes from prison. Thank you, SubRosa!

mALX: Thank you, mALX! Jerric is also concerned enough about Darnand’s distraction to not even take advantage of it (yet). I’m sure he’ll get Lildereth to find out what’s going on, sooner or later!

Acadian: Eats, roots, shoots, and leaves?! I have been laughing all week about that! I’m glad you enjoyed the little glimpse of Jerric’s Ma. By the time he came along, she had seen it all. I was a little worried about bringing up a mystery and then attempting a side-step, whew! And of course, hearing that something is very Jerric just warms my heart. Thank you, Acadian!

King Coin: Someone’s going to Skyrim, but I’m not sure who or when it will be. The thing I hoped for the most is that Skyrim would provide a good setting for non-dragon Jerric adventures. It really, really has. I need to stop writing when I’m hungry, or send Jerric on a few more laps around the city! Thank you, KC!

Olen: I’m so glad you’re reading! Getting through the whole story up to this point is a major commitment, and I appreciate it so much. Your comments delighted me beyond words, because they show that you really know these characters. I often don’t know why I’m including certain bits that don’t have anything to do with the plot but just let the characters be who they are. I know that I enjoy the many side-trips and diversions, and I’m very glad that so much came across through the wandering. I am especially amazed by how well you get Lildereth, since many of her lines and even scenes get cut out for too much explaining. She is a bit of a mystery even to herself, and the question of what the fellows will do when she finally lets them know what she’s after is also in the front of her mind. I have fretted over the mixture of humor and darkness. I don’t want to make light of events, but Jerric’s humor helps keep him moving forward. Also he does tend to pick the wrong times to take off his pants. I blame him for those parts. Thank you, thank you Olen!


Where we are: Evening in the Imperial City. Jerric spent the morning securing a Fighters Guild contract and making contact with the other of his father’s business partners. Then he and Darnand went to the Imperial Prison and retrieved the items that were left behind when he escaped with the Emperor, including his enchanted boots and ring. Lildereth and Ulfe are off pursuing their own concerns.




Chapter 14: The Imperial City, Part Nine

Back at the King and Queen Tavern, Darnand headed straight to the room while Jerric ordered their dinner. A large group of loosely related Redguards and Imperials had taken over the tavern’s public room for some family celebration. By the time Jerric’s food arrived, they had invited him to join them.

Jerric left his plate and took Darnand’s up. He found his friend deep in study, the small table already layered with his materials. Jerric found a spot for the plate. He decided not to pour him a goblet of wine. Darnand would not thank him if it got spilled on the Commentaries. Neither would Tar-Meena.

After a moment Jerric realized that Darnand was unaware of his presence. He considered his options, then decided to leave him unmolested. He’s working on your behalf, Jerric told himself. If you annoy him, then you’ll have to do it.

The party turned out to be the fiftieth birthday of an apple-cheeked woman who didn’t look a day over seventy. Jerric raised a tankard and wished her fifty more. He ate his meal squeezed on a bench between sisters who laughed, bickered, and drank with equal enthusiasm. Their friendly rivalry brought tears to his eyes. These strangers felt like home. Without even thinking, he kept an arm free for passing the pitchers, cakes, and babies around the table.

When the plates were cleared, Jerric found himself in possession of a particularly solemn and round-eyed specimen. “Story!” the toddler demanded.

It was decided that it was indeed Jerric’s turn to share an adventure. He wiped the lad’s nose on his sleeve, tucked him under an arm, and told the tale of Savlian Matius and the Heroes of Kvatch.

Later he turned down some very tempting offers in favor of doing the laundry. It was true what they said: a warrior may draw the maidens’ eyes, but it’s the bard who makes their panties slide off.

He returned to their chamber to find Darnand hunched over a sheet of parchment, his food untouched. It looked like he was writing a letter.

“Who are you writing to?” asked Jerric, stringing a line across the room. He began to hang their linens to dry.

“Abiene. I hope it will reach her before we do.”

“Oh, write something for me.”

Darnand readied the quill. “Go ahead.”

“‘I wish you were here to look after Darnand,’” Jerric said in a sing-song tone. “‘He needs someone to remind him he should eat and change his socks.’” Darnand placed the quill on the table and reached for his plate. Jerric grinned. “What did you make of those books?”

“I am left with a great desire to study the Mysterium Xarxes itself. Mankar Camoran’s ambitions seem to be based upon realistic expectations. He must possess terrible knowledge and power, beyond what a mortal could achieve even in an Altmer’s lifespan. I believe that Dagon’s book might be the source.”

Jerric turned back to his work to hide his thoughts. He should have foreseen the depth of Darnand’s interest, but it still surprised him.

“I realize, however, that such an opportunity is unlikely to arise,” Darnand continued. He produced a slip of parchment while he chewed. “The four keys are Camoran’s four volumes. The illuminated letters at the heads of what I loosely describe as chapters spell out the beginning of a message. As Tar-Meena told you, I expect that the message will provide a clue or instructions for actually joining the Mythic Dawn.”

“Ha! I knew you could do it.” Jerric took the note. “Green emperor way where,” he read. The cold potatoes on Darnand’s plate tempted him. He took a seat at the table.

“There is more. Tar-Meena indicated to you that these books are contemporary with Tiber Septim. That is simply not the case. Though these volumes are charmed against wear, they still do not seem four hundred years old. My suspicions were confirmed when I found references to events that have occurred since that time. Tar-Meena would not make such an error. I must conclude that she first studied earlier volumes, and these are later editions.” Darnand gave him a look. “I warn you, I will elaborate at great length and detail with only the slightest encouragement.”

Jerric quickly schooled his expression. He had a lot of questions for Darnand, but the exact age of an old book was not among them.

“This becomes a concern only if the illuminated letters have changed,” Darnand continued. “I can easily imagine that Camoran could not resist expanding upon his original work when a reprinting became necessary. In any case, the newer version is more likely to provide the correct clues.”

“There’s a Green Emperor Way here in the Imperial City,” said Jerric.

“Yes. I doubt that cultists have concealed a shrine there. However, I know that you will insist upon searching.” Darnand seemed to struggle with his next words. “Would you like me to assist you?”

Jerric briefly considered saying yes just to tease him. “No,” he sighed. “You’re right. About it being pointless to search without the rest of the clue, and about me trying anyway. I have a contract to do some guard work for the Fighters Guild, so I’ll look around when I pass through that part of the city. You keep doing whatever has you looking so frail.”

Jerric sighed again when Darnand didn’t rise to the bait. “How about the poem book?” Jerric asked. “Need any help translating?”

Darnand looked surprised. “You speak Dunmeris?”

“Well, I could order a drink, curse your mother, or talk to a harlot anywhere in Tamriel. Course there are a few things about Argonians that we don’t have words for, and you have to talk around the subject in Aldmeris.”

Darnand almost smiled. “Thank you, but no. I expect I will prevail, with sufficient study.”

“Ha! That’s one way to say it. I guess the drawings help with your study.”

Darnand replied with a nod and raised eyebrows as he put away another Nord-sized bite.

Jerric took a moment to think. The Mythic Dawn’s code had yielded its message. All that remained was to find the final books to complete it. There was nothing to be done about that tonight, but Jerric still had Darnand’s attention.

Jerric leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. Darnand made a go-ahead gesture with his fork.

“All right,” said Jerric, “here’s something. If summoned zombie slime dissipates when the geas lifts, why does the stink hang around?”

“That is an excellent puzzle. I have my solution. I would like to hear yours.”

Thinking about it was more entertaining than being told, Jerric decided. He leaned forward so he could concentrate better. “How about this. If a skeleton drops its weapon right before it goes back, the weapon stays. So I guess the weapon isn’t part of the summoning, it’s carried by it. So the slime must be part of it, but the stink gets carried along, like an axe.”

Darnand’s face registered pride and approval. “Your explanation stands. I need not improve upon it.”

That’s how I felt when he finally did some pushups, thought Jerric. “Ha!” he grinned. “If you were my teacher, I might have stayed in school.”

“I am surprised that you had not already answered this question. As a battlemage you are expected to pursue a broader arcane education.”

“I was a caravan guard, I had to learn to use my blades and shield first. Fetching archers wouldn’t wait while I meditated on books. Then I was busy with work. Plus it takes time to keep up with the drinking. I guess now I can learn what I want. You know, Sigrid says I’m a natural at alchemy, but Carahil says I have a gift for conjuring.”

“They are both wrong, and a little right. You are a natural mystic.”

Jerric had a good laugh. Then he noticed that Darnand was still silent. “You’re serious? All right, explain it.”

“Mysticism deals with the nature of magic itself. The fact that you are a Master of Alchemy despite your appalling technique is an indicator. Not to mention you can use ingredients that are completely unknown to you, while I spend hours learning the charts in books. It is most infuriating. Then there is your control over your summonings. It is the geas, your bound dagger is nothing special. Most annoying of all, you can read enchantments as readily as breathing. I envy that.”

“I don’t even know one mysticism spell. I think I’m best at destruction. My frost spells work without me even calling them anymore, like sneezing when your nose tickles. I sure enjoy destruction the most.”

“The schools of magic are our own invention. How we categorize our spells does not affect their nature. Your Nord blood carries the potential to use Nordic Frost and Woad. Destruction and shield magic were always a part of you. Then at birth when the stars marked your soul, they made you a mystic. Consider this: you can wring the magicka from my fire spells without consciously doing anything. That is the Atronach.” He shrugged. “It is only a theory.”

“So I’m what in this story, an arcane washerwoman? Darnand, you are a wonder. How do you think of these things? Why do you think of them?”

“You snore, kick, and shout half of the night. At the best of times you merely break wind and fondle yourself. Pondering the enigma that is a Nord mage keeps me from murdering you in your sleep.”

Darnand’s remark about his soul brought up more questions, but the Breton had already pushed aside the empty plate and turned back to his writing.

Jerric reached for the wine. “A mystic. Only you, Darnand.”

[mALX]

You snore, kick, and shout half of the night. At the best of times you merely break wind and fondle yourself. Pondering the enigma that is a Nord mage keeps me from murdering you in your sleep.”

This had me rolling, Darnand has summed up Jerric perfectly here! I loved the conversation about Jerric being a mystic - shows besides the above quote, Darnand really thinks deeply about his friend. Jerric's worry about Darnand came through clearly in this chapter. The two could be brothers for that deep bond, really Awesome Write !!!

[ghastley]

“‘I wish you were here to look after Darnand,’” Jerric said in a sing-song tone. “‘He needs someone to remind him he should eat and change his socks.’”

This just perfect encapsulates the attitude all three have to one another. They all think that the others would be helpless without them, and they're partly right, they do fill the gaps the other leave.

Darnand’s face registered pride and approval. “Your explanation stands. I need not improve upon it.”

That’s how I felt when he finally did some pushups, thought Jerric.

But those gaps are shrinking a bit.

I wonder what Ulfe thinks of them?

[Olen]

Nice to see Jerric finding some surrigate family to be with after remembering his mother a little too freshly. Little things like that really help flesh out the characters, I'm sure normally Jerric would exchange a few words but not get so involved, but this time perhaps the invite wasn't unsaught. It shows the family man side to him and the vulnerability that's left in its wake.

I am left with a great desire to study the Mysterium Xarxes itself.

Why am I not surprised, that couldn't possibly end badly could it... This desire for power in Darnard and the rather more aggressive and less legal persuit of it is something Jerric has awoken I suspect. It will be interesting to see where it leads, perhaps he'll stop soon enough but I suspect he'll go to far (and possibly already has), how badly it burns him is another question.

Then we have Jerric considering magical puzzles and getting an answer. Something of Jerric rubbing off on him. They certainly complement eachother, as friends should.

“Well, I could order a drink, curse your mother, or talk to a harlot anywhere in Tamriel. Course there are a few things about Argonians that we don’t have words for, and you have to talk around the subject in Aldmeris.”

I love the humour Jerric has, it's probably half true too. You do it very well, it fits the forum restrictions fine but encourages the reader to fill in the blanks...

[Acadian]

This was just chock full of goodness!

A magnificent description you provided of the birthday table and festivities. A wonderful example of your efficient ability to so delightfully capture a whole mood and scene with a few well-chosen evocative sentences.

Big grins on the warrior versus bard, and their differing effects on maidens’ wandering eyes and sliding panties.

A bonus mention of Abiene to help make up for Lildereth’s absence.

Fascinating stuff on the varying schools of magic. And what fabulous observations Darnand makes about the sleeping habits of his friend.

[King Coin]

After a moment Jerric realized that Darnand was unaware of his presence…
Typical Jerric, though I think despite the perfect opportunity, he made the right call.

Jerric’s addition to Darnand’s letter was good.

Hah, Darnand’s warning about elaborating in great detail was perfect!

Jerric? A natural mystic? That doesn’t fit the image of a heavy drinking, prostitute chasing Nord that is Jerric.

This post has been edited by King Coin: Mar 27 2012, 12:23 AM

[McBadgere]

Ye Gods I love this story... ...

From the roomfull of birthday guests to the intimate chat with just the two of them, it was sooo brilliantly done...Beautiful stuff...

Must go on a quote-fest....

The party turned out to be the fiftieth birthday of an apple-cheeked woman who didn’t look a day over seventy

Lol!!...

Later he turned down some very tempting offers in favor of doing the laundry. It was true what they said: a warrior may draw the maidens’ eyes, but it’s the bard who makes their panties slide off.

Wha-hey!!..Loved that...Made I laugh... ...

“Mysticism deals with the nature of magic itself. The fact that you are a Master of Alchemy despite your appalling technique is an indicator. Not to mention you can use ingredients that are completely unknown to you, while I spend hours learning the charts in books. It is most infuriating. Then there is your control over your summonings. It is the geas, your bound dagger is nothing special. Most annoying of all, you can read enchantments as readily as breathing. I envy that.”

Beautiful magic talkingness...Loved the thought that goes into everyone's interpretation of magic...Brilliant stuff...

So I’m what in this story, an arcane washerwoman?

Well...The images... ...

Loved it, as ever...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[SubRosa]

The party turned out to be the fiftieth birthday of an apple-cheeked woman who didn’t look a day over seventy.
Doh!

It was true what they said: a warrior may draw the maidens’ eyes, but it’s the bard who makes their panties slide
Yep, and if he learned to play the guitar, those panties would not slide off, they would burn off!

an arcane washerwoman?
On a completely unrelated note, this makes me think of the Celtic legends of the Washer At The Ford. It is a premonition of doom, where someone sees an old woman washing their clothing at a ford. They always die soon after. Often that woman is The Morrigan.

An interesting discussion about Jerric being a natural mystic. That explains why he can do so much magic at all, when he spends so much of his time drinking, screwing, and fighting rather than actually studying or practicing, as Darnand has to do.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Mar 27 2012, 06:42 PM

[Grits]

mALX: Thank you, mALX! No matter how close they get, Jerric is still an unsavory roommate. After all, no one farts on your head quite like a brother.

ghastley: Thank you, ghastley, you brought out what I was hoping to show about each of them caring for the others and letting themselves be cared about in return. I expect that Ulfe thinks one of them smells a lot more interesting than the rest!

Olen: Thank you Olen, you have drawn out the things here that are so important to me, and it means a lot to know that they came through. I’m always at risk of over-explaining, and nervous that I cut out the wrong parts.

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! I loved putting Jerric at that party table. He’s not a very good loner. It was fun to show some of who he used to be. There’s a little more of that in this section.

King Coin: Thank you for appreciating Darnand’s warning! That was such a Darnand moment, and those are rare. Jerric doesn’t see himself as a mystic either – he’s still shaking his head over that one.

McBadgere: Thank you, McB! If Jerric ends up at the Bards College, we’ll know what he’s planning.

SubRosa: You highlighted what I was hoping to show with the mystic discussion, that Jerric has taken to the magic that comes easily and made little or no progress in the areas that do not. He has years of practice, but very little study. Thank you, SubRosa!


Where we are: The crew has been in the Imperial City. Jerric met with Baurus and made a plan to search Cyrodiil’s book stores for the remaining two books of Mankar Camoran’s Commentaries of the Mysterium Xarxes. Darnand looked at the first two volumes and already cracked the code. Darnand and Lildereth did some enchanting at the Arcane University. Jerric got his belongings back from the Imperial Prison. Lildereth accepted the task from Martina Floria to bring her ten Welkynd stones in trade for advanced Illusion training. Darnand has been exchanging his life energy for access to an ancient library. Jerric has been crawling through sewers for the Fighters Guild to refill the coin purse. The animals have been relaxing in Acadian’s wonderful Valley of Horses. I’ll let Jerric take it from here.



Chapter 15: Chorrol, Part One


Jerric leaned against Aelwin’s fence watching the sun drop in the sky. Nerussa’s tavern and the Weye market square offered too many temptations, and so he had spent much of the day loitering with the horses in Aelwin’s stable yard. The old man had been cheerful company, but now he was inside his cottage having an afternoon rest. The quiet gave Jerric too much opportunity for thought.

Darnand and Lildereth had left before dawn on the previous day bound for some Ayleid hole that Lildereth had scouted. They were to collect Welkynd stones in the ruin while Jerric fulfilled the last day of his Fighters Guild contract. They would meet in Weye. Jerric had gathered up the animals this morning according to the plan. Now all he had to do was wait and wonder.

Foot traffic was sparse enough that Jerric could watch folk as they came into view between the low buildings. He pictured Darnand’s robed figure walking briskly with head down, then bent under the weight of an overloaded pack, and even limping with the aid of his staff. None of these variations answered his silent summons. He tried to imagine Lildereth, but he had no idea how her small form would look approaching. The elf had a habit of popping out of thin air right underfoot.

If they’re not here by the time Magnus touches the mountains, I’ll set up our camp, Jerric decided. They’ll be tired, and we can still get ahead of the traffic in the morning.

Fetch it, he thought a moment later. I’m going to go see what’s happening right now.

By the time he got his greaves buckled, Darnand and Lildereth were visible on the road. Jerric leaned against the fence again, grinning when he saw that they were whole and unbloodied.

“Three stones,” Lildereth said as they approached. He caught a glimpse of nerves before her face lit up at Ulfe’s joyful greeting.

Darnand stopped in front of Jerric, his expression tense and solemn.

Jerric sniffed for hints of mort flesh. “Anything rotting in your pack that I should know about?”

“We put them to rest,” said Lildereth. Her eyes slid to Darnand and then away. “Zombies. It was close. I misread the life signs. There were more than I expected.”

“She was magnificent under attack,” Darnand told him. “She stood her ground and kept shooting. The last one fell at her very feet.”

“Consumed by Darnand’s fire,” Lildereth added, a gleam in her eyes.

Comprehension killed Jerric’s next question. “And then you two humped each other silly.”

Darnand rubbed a hand over his face.

Lildereth shrugged one shoulder. “Sometimes it happens.”

“Not when I’m there. Dammit! What about Howling Cave? That was tense enough, and no humping after. And Fort Strand, that’s as close as it gets. I know I could have used some relief. What the hells, Darnand?”

The Breton looked aghast. Lildereth snorted.

Jerric shook his head. “I’m jesting,” he told Darnand. “Gods’ bones, you could crack an ironnut right now, I’d wager. I can’t see how you trust me with your life, but not the sanctity of your orifices.” He caught Lildereth’s look. “Yeah, I know what that means. I read it in a book.”

Lildereth moved to where Jerric had piled their gear and began shifting things between the packs. Darnand looked away from her.

Jerric watched for a moment. He tried not to let disappointment color his tone. “You’re leaving us, I take it?”

“I’m taking these stones back to Martina. There’s no sense carrying them around. I’ll catch up to you on the road, but not for a couple of days at least. Perhaps in Chorrol.”

Ulfe pressed her jaws against Jerric’s belly, grinning up at him. Jerric obliged with a vigorous throat scratch. “Sure, I’ll miss you too, Ulfe.”

“You’re hauling some of my gear for me,” Lildereth said without looking up. “There’s no need to squeeze out a tear just yet.”

“You’ll be moving fast, then?” Jerric asked. “Or you want to start light because you’ll have pelts to carry?”

Lildereth shot him a cool glance as she shouldered her pack. Jerric knew that was all the explanation he would get from her.

“There’s talk of a Gate along the Black Road,” Darnand announced, apparently to his feet.

Lildereth was suddenly in front of Jerric, squeezing one of his hands in hers. She looked up with an expression that was a little bit tender, a touch hopeful, but mostly composed of concern and regret. Then she turned toward the bridge without speaking. Ulfe sneezed on Jerric’s hand before she romped away after the elf.

“Yeah,” Jerric called after them. “You, too. And be careful with my dog!”

By the time Jerric looked over at Darnand, the Breton had finished his careful study of the grass.

“Well?” said Jerric.

It took a moment for Darnand to find his voice again. “Gods,” he finally managed.

Jerric shook his head and went to get the horses.

Tacking up was accomplished with minimal talk. Aelwin appeared with some stale-smelling sandwiches. Jerric’s thanks reflected his affection for the giver more than appreciation of the gift. In a short time they were mounted and proceeding up a narrow lane toward the Red Ring Road.

“How was the job?” Darnand asked before Jerric could start another conversation.

“It was Imga balls, just like the first two days. Nothing to eat, nothing to look at, and nothing to fight that I couldn’t just kick to death. The Imperial City Commission of Water and Sewers does not employ attractive dreck-scrapers, and don’t get me started on the smell.” Jerric prepared to launch his questions.

“Good morning, ladies,” Darnand called out, an act so bizarre it made Jerric stare at him. They made room for the approaching group of pedestrians to safely pass.

“It’s well past mid-day,” Jerric started to tell him, but Darnand and Banner had dropped back behind Flash. They maintained that position all the way past Fort Nikel until Jerric signaled a stop for the night.

They moved quickly to set up camp and settle the horses before sundown. Dry sandwiches were eaten fireside without comment. By now the silence had grown too thick between them, and Jerric was not inclined to break it. He guessed that Darnand’s no doubt frantically surrendered virginity might be causing him anxiety, but tonight Jerric was too close to his own troubles to distract himself with Darnand’s.

“It is your family that disquiets you,” Darnand said without preamble. “You have been twisting that ring around on your finger all evening.”

Jerric felt instantly relieved. Thoughts came in a rush, now that he did not fear to admit them. “I know they’re kept alive in my memory, but that’s no comfort. My niece Fjirsten, she was just as bright as a new drake and twice as promising. I’m the only one left who remembers the day she was born. Everything she was, everything she could have become is entrusted to this leaky vessel.” He thumped his forehead with a fist. “Little things are already fading. How will I know what I’ve forgotten when it’s gone? I was the least of them, Darnand. I never could get the words out of my head onto a page, and I didn’t let it bother me. Now I curse myself for this weakness.”

“Tell me their stories, and I will write them.” Darnand’s face was solemn in the firelight.

Jerric didn’t dare to hope. “To what purpose? And you don’t have time for that. You’re always working, even when you should just collapse.”

“That is an accurate statement. However, I shall make some time to ease your mind. There need not be a purpose, or an end. Say the words, and I will write them. I want to know your niece Fjirsten as if she was my own. We begin tonight.”

Jerric watched Darnand assemble his materials. He couldn’t have spoken at that moment if he tried. By the time Darnand was ready, he had wiped his face and taken a swallow of water.

“On the morning of Sun’s Height the fourth in the year 425, a child of Kyne was born in the West Weald.” Jerric could hear that his voice was low and strong, like his fa’s. He stood aside in his mind and let the words come. “Fjirsten Kolrsdaughter, born of Svanja, my sister. She was Svanja’s first, and she took her time coming. I had heard my sister swear, but never before like she did all that night. We knew her curses didn’t work when she grew big with her second child, but that’s another story. When my turn came to hold the baby, I took her outside to let her taste the wind. Even on the Kvatch plateau…”

Jerric’s voice continued into the night, and Darnand’s quill captured his memories. The images called up before Jerric’s eyes were more real than the fire in front of him. But tonight they brought no sorrow.