Old Habits Die Hard Part Five, New habits? Or just old ones recycled? Options

[Acadian]

'The last of the night’s chill lingered beneath the sheltering branches of the Great Oak as I stepped out into the dappled sunlight of the plaza. I breathed deeply of the late fall air, the smell of the fallen leaves and dry grass barely detectable beneath that of stones warming in the sun. A breeze rustled the autumn debris around the cobblestones.'
Lovely that you opened by lingering at the Great Oak. A delightful passage for all the senses.

“I don’t know about your fighting skills, but I have no doubt you’ve got the stones for it.”


Having so many familiar faces (Oreyn, Lum, Kurz, Honditar, etc) drawn to the Great Oak by the confrontation was a nice touch that really helped bring the scene alive.

[Destri Melarg]

You posted this just to torment me didn't you? Just as I get caught up you slap another chapter on me! And yes I had to get caught up. I want to be around for the big reveal in a few more chapters!

What is it about Earana that seems to rub everyone the wrong way? I never pictured her as particularly mean or unsavory until I started reading the fan-fics. Maybe I just hate Teekeeeus that much!

Julian's handling of the situation was sublime. I half-hoped that she would let the old pilus out, just to show that Buffy is not the only one capable of peeing herself!

[Grits]

I find myself echoing Acadian’s comments. I loved the attention you gave the Great Oak. Seeing it almost ready for winter was somehow even more rewarding than if it had been in its full autumn splendor. And right after Julian’s face-off with Earana, look it’s Bailey and Kezune!

[Olen]

Julian ad Erana got on about as well as I'd expected they would. Julian showed brain making sure there were plenty of people watching the encounter.

I’ve forgotten that I can sometimes intimidate the rookies. And here I am, trying not to be intimidated by the Champion of the Fighters Guild!

I loved this line and the interactions she's considering. Of course the Hero of Kvatch will be intimidating, but she forgets it rather often (until she gets angry at least). It also foreshadowed the spat with Erana rather well.

Now will she tell Teekeeus? I've never seen what's wrong with him, he does his job and otherwise ignores you, maybe he misuses his powers a bit, but he's hardly the worst of them...

So another recommendation that isn’t a real test of my magical abilities.

Isn't that what life is about? Butter up the right people and squash the rest, it's one thing the mages guild recommendations did do well was the politicking which goes on.

[Thomas Kaira]

Ahh, yes, that Altmer can have such a nasty temper. I'm sure Julian had a lot of fun playing verbal chicken with that easily enraged pile of rat droppings. Well, she might have done some good in my tale, it's just too bad she didn't live long enough for us to find out what.

I love German Sheppards. Such style and poise. I wish I could have one, but unfortunately I'm already contending with three dogs at my home, so I don't think a fourth would be highly advisable. Especially with one being a right little cannonball.

[haute ecole rider]

@SubRosa: Maybe you should write a short piece from Earana’s POV! It would be interesting to get inside her head. Like you said, she is used to having her own way, and for someone like Julian to dig in her heels is not something Earana appreciates!

@Acadian: I knew all the Bosmeri on these forums would love that description of the Great Oak. And I couldn’t resist letting Oreyn give his own twist on that (in)famous conversation topic about the Fighters Guild!

@Destri: No, I’m not tormenting you! Honest! I’m just sticking to my new posting schedule (Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays). And I think Earana almost peed herself when Julian faked her with that left-handed feint.

@Grits: Do you know how hard it was to find a picture of a pair of adult GSD’s?? Litters of adorable puppies, yes. But two adults? Nope. I lucked out finding this image from a rescue group in CA.

@Olen: Yes, after four years as a drunk and an addict, it’s hard for Julian to see herself as being intimidating. Especially now when she is still trying to find her new path.

@TK: It’s true, GSD’s are high maintenance dogs. But they are so quick to pick up training, and have such a high working drive. I love watching those dogs work!

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Chapter 25.4: Captain Bittneld the Curse-Bringer

“I’m afraid you got on Earana’s bad side,” Bittneld remarked as we approached the entrance to Fire and Steel. He stopped as another guardsman approached us.

“What about Julian’s bad side?” The guardsman smiled at me when I frowned at his voice. Do I know him? I peered closer at him. “I served in the Ninth Cohort of the Sixth fifteen years ago, ma’am.”

I searched my memory. “Who was the optio?” I asked.

“One Titus Florio,” he answered. “You probably don’t remember me, but I remember both of you well.”

Bittneld glanced from him to me, then faced the guardsman. “Are you on duty, Ashcroft?”

He removed his helmet and met my gaze. “Faric Ashcroft reporting for duty, sir, ma’am.”

Now I recognized the tall Breton. Though his ginger hair now had more salt than cayenne pepper in it, and his florid face was now more weathered, he had the same insouciant glint in those pale blue eyes, the same serious set to his jaw. Ashcroft? Yes. “It’s been a long time, Faric Ashcroft.” I nodded at Bittneld. “Does he give you any trouble, Captain?”

Bittneld regarded the Breton thoughtfully for a few minutes. “For the most part, no,” he spoke slowly as Ashcroft’s grin widened. “But there’s been a time or two when I’ve suspected -“ He did not finish the sentence. “Back to your patrol, soldier,” he addressed Ashcroft curtly.

“Yes, sir, ma’am,” Ashcroft replaced his helm and saluted us. “I hope to catch up with you, ma’am -“ his blue eyes twinkled at Bittneld beneath the shadow cast by the helmet, “- when I’m off duty.”’

“I’d like that, Ashcroft,” I stepped onto the stoop of Fire and Steel. “See you around.”

Bittneld watched Ashcroft’s departing back for a brief moment before opening the door to the smithy for me. As we stepped inside, he hailed the Redguard stooping over the forge. The other woman straightened up, setting her tongs down with a clatter.

“Rasheda, this is Julian,” Bittneld waved me up beside him. “She closed the Oblivion Gate early this morning.”

“You did?” Rasheda’s smile gleamed in the firelight from the forge. “Many thanks to you, Julian. Hopefully business will pick up again now that that infernal portal is closed!” She stepped away from the fire and moved to the anvil. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes ma’am, I have a few enchanted pieces I need repairing,” I answered, setting my pack down on the nearby worktable and laying my magical weapons next to it. Rasheda pointed at Akatosh’s Fury with a question in her eyes. At my nod, she picked it up and examined it.

“Not too bad,” she muttered, testing the give of the stave. “It will fix right up. And this,” she set the bow down and picked up Daedra Slayer, “is a beautiful weapon! Nice balance. Needs sharpening, but the blade is still straight. That’s Akaviri work for you.”

I drew out Matius’s cuirass from the pack and handed it across to Rasheda. She draped it across the anvil and examined first with a visual inspection, then with her hands running across the surface. “Hmm, this has taken quite a beating.” She glanced up at me. “Is that all your armor?”

“I have leathers, and I’ve repaired those,” I answered. “But I’m not yet skilled enough to repair enchanted gear, ma’am.”

“Well, then, we’ll have to change that, don’t we?” Rasheda put her fists on her hips. “All the traipsing around you’ve been doing, you ought to be able to repair your own armor out in the wilderness!” She smiled at my startled glance. “We still get the Black Horse Courier here, you know! The cutover to the Orange Road wasn’t closed off.”

I recalled what I had overheard in the Bloated Float a couple of nights ago. “Yes, I heard the riders were cutting through Weynon Priory and coming in the North Gate.”

“Yes, they were,” Rasheda nodded. “Come back after dinner tonight,” she added. “I’ll see about raising those armorer skills of yours. First lesson’s free!”

“I’ll pay you for your time -“ I began, but Bittneld put his hand briefly on my arm.

“Trust me,” he met my glance as he led me outside. “Take that free lesson. Rasheda doesn’t come cheap. Magna cum laude from the University of Smithing.”

I stopped and stared at him. Bittneld returned my gaze neutrally. Is there really such a place?

Rasheda laughed heartily behind me. “He’s kidding!” she called over the noise of the forge. “But I’m that damn good!”

Bittneld’s poker face failed to hide the twinkle in his eyes as he stepped onto the stoop. He scanned the street with a practiced eye before leaving the smithy. “Burd and Dion speak well of you,” he remarked casually as we made our way down Oak Way toward the pieta and the South Gate beyond. “I know I didn’t say it at the time, but I was mighty glad to see you yesterday.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find any of your guards in there,” I offered quietly. It had been the worst of the Gates so far. The lower halls in the sigil keep had reeked of clotted blood, of eviscerated bowels, of fear and agony. Every talon on every wall and every column had held a mutilated corpse. The floors had been sticky with thick reddish brown gunk. If not for Carandial’s refresh spell, I would have lost an hour of sleep cleaning the last of the residue from my boots and greaves with glycerin soap.

Bittneld grunted. “I knew they were lost,” his voice was barely audible beneath the brisk autumn breeze. Still I could hear the guilt in his tone. “What’s done is done.” He shook himself and met my gaze as we turned up Castle Road. “But you made me a promise.”

“I did,” I agreed. “And I intend to keep it. When do you want me to brief your guards?”

“I suppose you’ll want to see the Countess,” Bittneld continued. “But I want my men knowing what’s ahead of them before they leave for Bruma.”

“You’re certain she’ll agree to send reinforcements?” I asked.

“If you can get her attention long enough to think about it,” Bittneld’s tone held a new edge of irritation, “I have no doubt she’ll not want to be the only one not sending aid.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked. “Is there something going on I should be aware of?”

Bittneld sighed loudly as we entered the shadow cast by the castle walls. He didn’t answer until we stepped into the sun shining through the open gateway again. “A painting of the late Count Valga was stolen out of milady’s bedchamber a few nights ago. She’s been beside herself, as it has great sentimental value to her.” He shook his head. “The staff’s been running around in aimless circles flapping their wings thanks to her. And now she wants me to investigate the theft! I’m a Captain of the Guard, not her private detective!”

My thoughts skipped back to a dark stone room and a young legionary. “I have a little experience in that area -” thanks to General Camillus. “I can offer to see what I can do.”

“You shouldn’t have to get involved in this, Julian,” Bittneld gestured toward the door leading into the main keep at one side of the courtyard.

“I was in Leyawiin,” I remarked. Bittneld couldn’t hide the grimace that crossed his face. “I imagine Countess Valga would be no different if her daughter’s any indication. Closing two Gates there was not enough to satisfy the Count or his wife.”

“That Count Caro has a reputation of being a master manipulator,” Bittneld nodded to the guardsmen stationed on either side of the keep door. They moved to swing the heavy panels open for us. “But Countess Valga’s not as bad as that. She’s just - distracted right now.”

“So tell me what you know about it, please.” I followed Bittneld into the entry hall.

“Not much,” the Nord replied. “I’ve been busy with the Gate until now. Apparently it was stolen from the Countess’s bedchamber a few nights ago. Few people have access to the private quarters, and she suspects one of those few.”

“And I’m certain most of the guard aren't under suspicion as they were either out at the Gate or sleeping,” I added. Bittneld nodded tacit agreement.

“I’ll introduce you to Countess Valga,” he said, leading me across the entry hall toward a flight of stairs at the opposite side. “Then I’ll be out on patrol. I don’t doubt you can take it from there.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it, sir,” I said. We passed several more guardsmen, their eyes still hollow beneath their helms. They greeted Bittneld with familiar respect and me with thanks and warm courtesy. It’ll take them a few more days to get back to normal. After six weeks on the line, they need the rest.

Ahead, a bustle of activity in the county hall alerted me to the presence of a very agitated Countess. Voices reached me before the words did. A lean Imperial dressed in elaborate black velvet livery was bending beside the throne. The woman seated in its oaken embrace shifted impatiently. “What do you mean you can’t find it?” her sharp voice crackled across the county seat as Bittneld and I approached the dais. “Don’t speak to me again until you have news of import!” She waved the man away impatiently.

He straightened up and stepped backwards down the steps to the main floor. Bittneld stopped beside him as another servant approached the Countess with a steaming cup.

“Giving you a hard time, Wavrick?” Bittneld muttered to the Imperial. The older man sighed wearily.

“It’s bad today,” he murmured back. “With the Gate closed, she expects all of us to be searching the castle for that damned painting.”

“Would you please announce us?” Bittneld waved me to his other side. “I’ve got Julian of Anvil here.”

“I’m not certain that’s news of significant import,” Wavrick shook his head. “Go ahead yourself.”

Bittneld rolled his eyes at me, then squared his broad shoulders and stepped forward to the foot of the dais. “Milady,” he spoke clearly.

Arriana Valga looked up from her cup. “Ah, Captain Bittneld,” she greeted him. “Do you have news of the painting?”

“I’m sorry milady, I don’t,” Bittneld bowed, his tone sufficiently contrite. “But I have Julian of Anvil here. She closed the Oblivion Gate early this morning and broke the daedric siege.”

“Ah, yes, yes,” Valga waved her hand impatiently. “Thank you, Julian of Anvil. I wish I had time to chat, but I’m afraid I’m in the middle of an investigation.”

I mirrored Bittneld’s bow. “I understand, ma’am.” When I looked up, I could see the pleased approval in her gaze. “I have some investigative experience, perhaps I may be of assistance?”

[SubRosa]

I already have the outline for the Earana story. Since I have about 28 more posts in the TF already written, I think I will start writing the EF in the next day or so.

I always thought Bittneld had one of the coolest nicknames in ES. Although granted it is not one I would ever want myself...

“I’m afraid you got on Earana’s bad side,”
Somehow, this does not strike me as being too difficult to do!

Though his ginger hair now had more salt than cayenne pepper in it
This was a pure genius of description. Given that you always give us a good meal in the JF, I suppose it is no surprise that you would ply us with spices!

Magna cum laude
I am so fighting not to comment on this!

All in all, a nice little episode that gives us a breather, adds a bit to Julian's growing repertoire of skills, and introduces her to the Curse-Bringer. Not to mention introduces us to the distracted Countess of Chorrol. Is it just me, or do most of the Counts and Countesses of Cyrodiil seem rather petty and self-absorbed?

[Destri Melarg]

You nee further proof that Julian must be Cyrodiil’s greatest hero by now? Rasheda at Fire and Steel is offering something for free!!

I really enjoyed this quest in the game. Something about the meticulous gathering of clues and interviewing of witnesses jibes with the rampant OCD that manifests within me on occasion.

Once again you give us a Nord guard captain who positively oozes competence and professionalism. I’m also interested in seeing who this Faric Ashcroft guy is.

Magna cum laude
I am so fighting not to comment on this!

Who is Magna? And why should she have all the fun?

[Acadian]

I really enjoyed this episode!

“What about Julian’s bad side?”
While this makes perfect sense, it was somehow unexpected and quite struck me as a stroke of brilliance on your part!

Of course, now that you have dropped hints about the fellow who has struck Julian's fancy, any man with blue eyes now falls under scrutiny and goes on our list of possibles. *scribbles down the name, Ashcroft*

'I stopped and stared at him. Bittneld returned my gaze neutrally. Is there really such a place?
Rasheda laughed heartily behind me. “He’s kidding!” she called over the noise of the forge. “But I’m that damn good!”
I absolutely loved this because it shows a delightful chink in our heroine's armor. Someone actually got one by her! It merely serves to make her more human and endearing to us!

I echo the fine presentation of Bittneld, and add praise for the delightfully quirksome Countess.

'My thoughts skipped back to a dark stone room and a young legionary. “I have a little experience in that area -” thanks to General Camillus. “I can offer to see what I can do.”
Now I did not run off and compare this to dear treydoggie's story, so forgive me if my foggy recollection is off. Is Julian referring here to her investigation involving Athlain? If so, I think that is neat as can be. If I am confused, I ask your forgiveness.

So, it seems Julian will be canvassing a castle. Hopefully in addition to some aid for Bruma, she will earn a painting of a cat that she can present to Aelwin.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Mar 26 2011, 07:14 PM

[Olen]

The lower halls in the sigil keep had reeked of clotted blood, of eviscerated bowels, of fear and agony.

This line was rather effective in its purpose. The eviscerated bowels were rather an accurate olfactory observation and brought the rather gruesome image to life.

And we meet some more Chorrolites. Rasheda was always one I hated, her prices are insane. Still if she is so expensive I suppose she would be good.

I echo Acadian on Bittneld getting one past her and also enjoyed the useless countess and her irate captain...

I'm going to disagree on Ashcroft though, I don't remember him from eariler and I think the individual with blue eyes has already appeared. Could be my memory though, he certainly remembered her.

And nice slotting in of the BotM referance, if that is what it is (I don't remember a General Camillus... but...)

[haute ecole rider]

@SubRosa: I’d love to have Bittneld’s nickname! Then nobody would want to mess with me! So you liked my description of Ashcroft’s hair. And yes, most of the nobles of Cyrodiil are rather self-absorbed. Of all of them, though, I like Narina Carvain the most. Even though she seems quite obsessed with Akaviri artifacts, her actions during the crisis (not to mention that apparently she gained the throne by her own right and not through a husband) makes me respect her even more.

@Destri: I love this quest, too. It’s more than the usual fetch-and-carry, and quite a lot of fun, too. I love talking to the suspects, especially the grumpy Hairy Legs (though just how hairy his legs are remains to be seen - preferably not!). I’m glad that Bittneld the Curse-Bringer really came alive for you. For some reason I just love writing these Nordic Guard Captains (Dion is the lone Imperial exception). You’ll get to see more of Ashcroft in a later post.

@Acadian: Remember, I had mentioned that we have already met Julian’s azure-eyed heart-stealer by Chapter 10. This is Ashcroft’s first appearance in OHDH, though he served in her cohort many years ago. And yes, someone got something by her all right! Bittneld just said it, and I had to leave it in because Julian’s reaction was so priceless. And yes, you caught the Blood on the Moon reference correctly.

@Olen: Thanks for picking out that line. I wanted to build on Julian’s earlier observations of the increasing strength of the Sigil Stones she was recovering from each Gate. You’re right about Ashcroft - this is his first appearance in OHDH. And thanks for catching the BotM reference. General Camillus was her CO during her time in Skyrim, and we met him briefly in Chapter 21.

Having encountered Earana, and dropped off her enchanted gear at Rasheda’s for repair, Julian and Bittneld went to the castle. Right now Julian’s mind is on her highest priority task - getting as much aid for Bruma as she can. Already she has realized that the way to get it is to undistract the Countess.

***********************

Chapter 25.5 Canvassing the Castle

“Splendid!” Arriana Valga set her mug down and clapped her hands. Wavrick stepped forward as she rose from her seat. “Laythe, Julian and I will retire to the dining room for a few moments. Please ensure we have some privacy. Captain Bittneld, thank you.” She scooped up the cup and stepped down.

The Imperial moved gracefully to the right, opening a door and stepping through. Bittneld bowed once more to the Countess, then sharply spun on his heel with a sidelong glance at me. As he marched out of the county hall, Valga glided down from the dais, holding her hand out to me. “Come, let’s have a seat together, shall we?” She moved past me and trailed after Wavrick, gathering her blue velvet skirts in both hands. A tall guardsman moved from behind her throne and waved for me to precede him. Bodyguard.

I fell in behind the Countess, shortening my stride to match hers. Though she held her head high, I could see that age had begun to bend her spine. Her hands on the blue velvet were skeletal, and fine wrinkles radiated from her eyes and mouth. Still, she carried herself with a proud elegance that came with years of ruling a county.

We entered the dining hall, where Wavrick was ushering a servant woman out. The countess moved to the far end of the dining table and regarded the corner of the ornate carpet with a peeved air. Behind me, the bodyguard stopped just within the door.

“Those stains still aren’t coming out?” she demanded.

“I’m sorry, milady,” Wavrick bowed to her. “The servants have been working on it without success.”

I joined the Countess and looked at the rug. Bright colors were splashed across one corner of the covering, clashing with the more subdued earth tones of the weaving. I knelt beside the rug and touched the still-damp material. “Is this paint?” I asked.

“Yes, it was discovered the day before yesterday,” the Countess huffed. “It was already dried by then.”

“It’s oil-based,” I fingered the clumps that coated the surface of the heavy wool. “It won’t come out with soapy water.”

“You know how to remove it?” Valga’s voice held surprise. I looked up at her.

“The only thing I know of is terebinthine,” I replied. “But it might damage the carpet also.”

“So the carpet is ruined?” The countess stamped a foot angrily. “It’s expensive!”

I rose to my feet, eyeing the splotches of color. Is that a footprint? Yes, it is. Smaller than mine. “Do you have any artists in the castle, ma’am?”

“No, not that I know of,” Valga retreated to a side table and seated herself with a flounce of her skirts. Wavrick picked up a wine flagon and glanced at me with an unspoken question. I shook my head at him. “Please, sit here,” Valga indicated a chair opposite her. As I obeyed, Wavrick set the pitcher back on the table, bowed again and left the dining hall, closing the door behind him.

“I understand you are missing a painting, ma’am?” I decided to take the initiative, though it ran counter to protocol in most courts.

“Yes.” The countess did not seem to mind. “It was of my lost love, Count Valga, and it has been stolen from my bedchamber.” She sighed melodramatically. “It is all I have left of the Count. I spend many a lonely night wishing the words I speak will be heard and not just fall on the lifeless pigments and canvas.” Valga sniffled and sipped at her klah.

“When did it happen, ma’am?” I put a gentle tone into my voice.

“Let’s see, it was three nights ago last night. It was there in the evening when I went to bed, and gone in the morning when I rose.” She met my gaze, and I could see the canny woman who had led County Chorrol for many years. “The bedchamber is kept locked at all times.”

“Who else had access to your bedchamber, ma’am?”

“That would be Laythe Wavrick, my herald, whom you already met,” Valga lifted her pale blue eyes to the stone arches overhead. “Orgnolf Hairy Legs, the porter, Chanel the court mage, Orok gro-Ghoth, my steward, and of course, Captain Bittneld.”

Mentally I repeated the names to fix them more firmly into my mind. “And what were they doing on that night, ma’am?”

“As you know, Captain Bittneld had been out all day on the barricades,” Valga waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the Gate outside the walls. “He was in the barracks sleeping after he did his customary patrol of the town. Wavrick was in bed, my bodyguard can vouch for him. Orok gro-Ghoth was in the kitchen, then went to bed as well. But no one could vouch for either Chanel or Orgnolf.”

Again my gaze was drawn to the paint stains on the rug. Would a painter steal a painting? “So as far as Chanel and Orgnolf are concerned, we only have their word concerning their activities that night, ma’am?”

“That is correct,” Countess Valga responded with an emphatic nod. “Oh, I wish this hasn’t happened. Both of them have worked for me for a long time, and I’ve had little complaint concerning either one. I’d hate to think one of them has betrayed my trust, but it would seem that is the case.”

“That must be quite disconcerting, ma’am,” I agreed. “What were you doing that night, may I ask?”

“Of course,” Valga sipped at her klah. She is more intelligent than she lets on. “It was the usual. I had spent the day seeing petitioners and overseeing the defense of Chorrol. Dinner was late that night, and I went straight to bed afterwards, a little after ten bells. I slept all night long, and when I woke in the morning, the painting was gone.”

“When was the last time you saw the painting, ma’am?”

“When I went to bed, of course,” Valga sipped again. “I always speak to it every night.”

“Yes, ma’am, you said something about that,” I admitted. “Well, if there is nothing else you need to tell me, I’ll get started.”

“Yes, here are some keys that will allow you access to the private chambers of the castle,” Valga detached a large ring from her belt. “Please return them tonight. I’ve confined Orgnolf Hairy Legs and Chanel to the castle interior, you should have no problem finding them. If you can’t find Orok gro-Ghoth here, you may find him at Northern Goods and Trade purchasing supplies for our larder. And I believe you may already have spoken to Bittneld.”

“I’ll speak to him again,” I rose to my feet. “Excuse me, ma’am.” She waved me away. I turned and headed for the county hall. The bodyguard met my gaze as I drew near the door.

“Good luck, ma’am,” he murmured with a weary air as he opened the door for me. “I hope you get to the bottom of this soon.”

I found Laythe Wavrick at his position near the dais. “Hello, sir,” I greeted him.

“How can I help you, ma’am?” He straightened his velvet livery.

“Can you tell me anything about Chanel or Orgnolf?”

“Chanel’s all right, I suppose,” Wavrick shrugged. “Orgnolf likes his drink quite a bit. I think it may have gotten worse - he’s taken to borrowing money to buy liquor. The stuff is rather expensive for someone making porter’s wages.”

“I see,” I mused. “Do you know where Orok gro-Ghoth is right now?”

“He should be on his way back from Northern Goods,” Wavrick responded. “He went there earlier to see if any new merchandise came in today.” His gaze moved beyond me, toward the stairs. “Here comes Orgnolf.”

I turned to see an irascible-looking Nord, red nose prominent beneath a balding pate, coming down the steps. “Speak of the daedra himself.”

Wavrick chuckled. “Good luck talking to him, though, ma’am. He’s always in a foul temper.”

“Thanks,” I nodded at him before walking toward the scowling porter. The Nord hesitated on my approach and glanced around as if looking for escape. “Excuse me, sir,” I held out my hand to stop him. “Are you Orgnolf Hairy Legs?”

“Who wants ta know?” he growled defensively.

“I’m Julian of Anvil,” I kept my voice level. “I heard about the missing painting. It seems the Countess is running everyone crazy about it.”

“Aagh!” his bloodshot eyes rolled expressively. “That’s puttin’ it mildly!”

“A porter’s work is never done,” I added. “And I doubt the past few days has been any easier for you.”

Orgnolf sent me a fierce glare that could blister the paint off a guardsman’s shield. “Easier! Paugh!” he spat to one side. “What good’s a porter that can’t transport things?”

“About as much good as a pilus without a cohort,” I replied mildly.

Orgnolf eyed me, then began chuckling. “Aye, you got that right!” Now he smiled sourly. “What can I say?”

“Well, why can’t you transport things?” I asked. “Seems to me there’s plenty of work to be done around here.”

“Ach, it’s because of that ridiculous painting!” Orgnolf’s good humor disappeared. “Ever since someone snuck into the Countess’s bedchamber and stole that portrait right out of its frame!” He shook his head. “And they think I had something ta do with it?”

“Well, that’s hard to believe,” I looked him up and down. “But did you?”

“Nae! Not after I got into an argument with a delivery boy. He was supposed ta bring a few casks of wine up from Skingrad, but one of his mules slipped in the rain outside and broke two of the casks. The damned pipsqueak insisted on being paid the full amount! I ain’t gonna pay for merchandise I didn’t get!” Orgnolf was getting angry again, the red spreading from his nose over his cheeks. He took a deep breath. “After that, I went ta my room and spent the rest of the night. Reading.”

[Olen]

Hmmm another character you see differently from me. I always saw Orgnolf as a bit of a fool and utterly useless. He must be one of more more annoying characters in game. Still it's refreshing to see him dealt with correctly.

This quest is a jewel for Julian, her interactions wiht people are always good and there's so many to choose from. And already she's picking up clues. Introducing the paint stains was an excellent move, much more natural than just 'finding' them. I'm looking forward to her hearing the otehr stories and seeing the one which doesn't add up.

I wonder what she'll do then.

[ghastley]

It's nice that in Fan Fiction, you can correct the problems of the original game. It's always annoyed me that you're not allowed to find any clues until you finish the interviews.

Now I'll be interested in what order Julian will do things, with the "constraints".

[Destri Melarg]

It seems a little strange that Julian took it upon herself to start investigating the disappearance before being asked to do so by the Countess. On the other hand, maybe not so strange when you consider that it has been Julian's charge to do favors for spoiled nobility since the Oblivion Crisis began! At this point she must be completely fed up with the whims of the gentrified class! I commend her on her natural skill in diplomacy, which always seems to manifest right before the old pilus' boot meets an offending backside. . . hairy or otherwise.

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Mar 28 2011, 09:21 PM

[SubRosa]

It annoys me to no end that in an Empire founded by an Empress, it seems that no woman can become a ruler of even a County, let alone the whole shebang, unless it was her husband's first, and he died or ran off to become a master thief. I never knew how Countess Bruma got her position. I never noticed any mention of her ever being married, so as you say, she must have earned it. Unless her parents were the Count and Countess and died with no male offspring.

Move over Simplicia, Miss Julian is now on the case! I love how you moved the scene to the dining room, and then quite naturally focused on the most obvious thing in the room. The fresh paint stains on the carpet.

So Captain Bittneld has access to the Countess' chamber? Hubba, hubba...

“Speak of the daedra himself.”
A wonderful phrase!

I loved Julian's discussion with the Countess. Distracted she might be, but one can see that she has what it takes to run a County underneath it all. Then her interview with Orgnolf had me smiling. Once again Julian the consummate diplomat emerges, and she wraps the irascible Nord around her finger.

[Acadian]

What a fabulous picture you paint of the Countess! Ditzy and cunning and distracted and well-suited to her post all at the same time. No simple one dimensional character here. This one's plenty complex and you paint her so well.

'I decided to take the initiative, though it ran counter to protocol in most courts.'
Oh, Buffy read that book too and stuck to it. I must admit though that Julian has the maturity and stature, not to mention Hero of Kvatch title to not only let her pull it off, but to make it a wise move on her part.

'Orgnolf sent me a fierce glare that could blister the paint off a guardsman’s shield.'
What a delightful description!

Julian is so well suited to this. Her time investigating Athlain, ferreting out Mythic Dawn clues with Baurus and the time she has spent in various courts certainly well-qualify her as Julian, PI. It showed in the way she managed the Countess. Then again as she opted for a touch of flattery with Orgnolf.

I see that Orgnolf has told us it was raining the night of the crime. . . .

I can't wait to see how Julian deals with the perp, if she finds whodunnit.

[Thomas Kaira]

Pilus Julian is back again!

I like the twist you put on the quest here, by giving Julian a bit of background experience (as Athlain can testify to), and also dealing with a glaring flaw in that quest. Why the countess would be willing to hand over such an important investigation to someone she met off the street is quite beyond me.

I wonder what Chanel will be like.... If Julian is like me, she will be certainly be able to see some glaring flaws in her story if she is indeed the culprit, but this is your story, so I will not speak any further of that.

Nit?

“After that, I went ta my room and spent the rest of the night[.] Reading.”

I know that most of the time characters don't grade their own dialogue, but that period I highlighted seems rogue to me. I don't think that you really need it here.

[Grits]

I love that the Countess seems a little silly, but we can see that she is not. Bittneld the Curse-Bringer is fun to spend time with, and not just for his excellent name. The comments he makes in the game are enjoyable, but he is even better in your story. University of Smithing! And he kept a straight face.

[haute ecole rider]

@Olen: I agree, this is one of the quests where Julian really shines. I really enjoyed writing this quest and having her tell me her thoughts and actions here. It turned out to be more fun than I thought it would be.

@ghastley: Well, I hope you’re not disappointed with the way the rest of the mystery investigation plays out here.

@Destri: Normally Julian wouldn’t even consider taking the initiative as she did. If she had come to Chorrol first on her Grand Circuit, she wouldn’t have. But this is her last one, and she has learned that every Count/ess wants something in addition to just closing the relevant Gate. And her experiences with Leyawiin has braced her for an equally difficult Countess at Chorrol. So she took the initiative here to save time.

@SubRosa: I’m happy that you enjoyed Julian’s interactions with the Countess and with Orgnolf of the Hairy Legs. And yes, I always thought she would notice the paint stains the first time she walked into the dining room.

@Acadian: I was thinking about it, and realized that Julian just knows when to follow the rules, and when to toss the rulebook out. It’s something she has learned since leaving the Prison. And yes, I think she is well suited to be a PI. Whether or not that becomes her next career is pretty doubtful, though.

@TK: Yes, the fact that the Countess seems so quick to dump the investigation into the PC’s lap escapes me, too. Though once I did try to talk to her about it before I started progressing through the MQ (just delivered the amulet to Jauffre), and she said she wouldn’t discuss it with someone she didn’t know. Turns out the number of fame points does matter. As for Orgnolf’s dialogue, if you listen to him, there is definitely a period in there. He pauses right at that point, then speaks “Reading” with exaggerated sarcasm. I’ll think about how I’m going to convey that more effectively.

@Grits: Yes, I’ve always enjoyed Bittneld’s comments ingame. I always try to trigger that half finished quest that matches him with the innkeeper at the Grey Mare (Emfrid). I’m successful only half the time, but it’s fun!

@all: I’m just delighted that everyone seems to enjoy the Countess. I pictured her as being somewhat annoying like her daughter, but at the same time just plain canny, like my own Italian grandmother, bless her soul.

********************************
Chapter 25.6: Gathering the Clues

I found Bittneld speaking to one of the guardsmen at the South Gate. He signaled me to wait until he finished. The stone rim around the pietà provided a convenient place to rest my behind. The noon sun shone warmly, but I could feel the cold in the air, and the half-bare branches of the trees reminded me that we were now more than halfway through the penultimate month of the year.

I wondered if Bittneld would have anything to add. While waiting for Orok to return, I had encountered Chanel, the court mage. A Redguard close in age to me, she possessed an unlined face that suggested she spent little time out of doors in the sun. Her feminine beauty made me feel awkward and gangly next to her.

“I heard the Countess had asked you to investigate the missing painting,” the woman’s melodious voice was as rich as the tapestries that lined the walls of the county seat. “I wish you good luck.”

“And you are -?” I thought I knew her identity, but I wanted to be certain.

“How silly of me to forget you’re new here,” she smiled. “I am Chanel, court mage to Countess Valga.”

“Then you must know of the painting in question,” I held her dark gaze. “I’ve never seen it. Can you describe it for me please?”

“It was a portrait of Count Valga, painted shortly before he was killed. He was in his prime then, and quite handsome.” I noticed the dreaming look in her eyes. Was she more fond of him than was appropriate? “Whoever painted it could not do him justice. He was kind and noble, qualities difficult to capture on canvas.” Her eyes refocused on me. “I’m afraid that other than that, I can’t tell you much more about it.”

“Can you tell me where you were the night of the theft?” I asked.

“It was a late night. I spent the evening in the courtyard of the castle taking star readings. Then I retired to the dining room for a glass of wine, and spent some time studying the star charts I had made.” Her gaze flickered slightly, and I made certain the frown I could feel on my face remained invisible. Star readings? On a rainy night? Or was Orgnolf lying about the rain? “After an hour or so, I went to my chamber. I slept the rest of the night. When I rose in the morning, the castle was already in an uproar over the missing painting.”

“You knew Count Valga when he was alive?”

“Yes, I have been here just over twenty years,” Chanel responded. “He was killed in battle with Nordic clansmen that had come down from Skyrim via the High Road. That happened eleven years ago.” Her eyes grew sad. “He is greatly missed by many here.”

“I know the Countess remembers him fondly,” I remarked. “It’s difficult losing a husband in the prime of his life.”

Chanel didn’t speak. She shifted her gaze away and inhaled slowly.

“Hello, how goes the investigation, Julian?” Bittneld’s voice brought me back to the present.

“I have an idea who the culprit might be,” I replied as he sat down next to me. He stretched his long legs out and turned his face to the sun, closing his eyes. “But I wanted to get out of the castle for a bit, and to find out if you had any additional information.”

“Man, it feels good to just sit quietly in the sun for a bit without hearing that infernal Gate,” Bittneld muttered. He opened his eyes and glanced at me. “I saw you talking to Orok on the Castle Road. Did he have anything useful to tell you?”

“Just that he spent the night inside because of the rain and didn’t see either Orgnolf or Chanel,” I replied. “He did mention that Orgnolf’s drinking had become worse, and that he caught the porter drinking in the west tower once.”

“Yes, and he let him off with a warning.” Bittneld nodded. “That happened last week. Orok warned him if it happened again, he would tell the Countess. She frowns on drinking while on duty.”

That fits with what he told me. “What about you, Captain?” I asked. “How was the weather that night?”

Again he closed his eyes in the sun. “Hmm, I can’t remember much. One night was much like the next, after standing all day outside the Gate fighting daedra.” Bittneld was silent for several moments. “It was raining hard much of the night. The streets were still wet in the morning.” He glanced at me. “Any ideas?”

“What about Chanel?” I asked. “What do you think of her?”

“Like most of the women in Chorrol,” he grunted. “Fine to look at, but quite snooty. Not nice at all.” His eyes sharpened as if at a sudden thought. “Funny thing, though. She has been spending a lot of time in the west tower, too. When I asked her about it, she said it had to do with her magic research.” He shrugged. “At the time, it made sense to me.”

“Drinking?” I asked, thinking of Orgnolf.

“Nah,” Bittneld shook his head. “I’ve never seen her take any drink at all.”

“Maybe I’d better check out that west tower,” I rose to my feet. “It seems to be quite popular among the castle staff.”

“It’s used mostly for storage,” Bittneld followed suit, stretching his spine. A flicker moved through his eyes. “Which makes it ideal for other purposes.”

“Yes, the sort of purpose one doesn’t want others to know about,” I agreed.

“But a teetotaler and a lush?” Bittneld’s gaze turned assessing. “I find that hard to believe.”

I glanced at him. “Spend much time in the Legion?” I asked him.

“Ah, yes.” He nodded. “I’ve seen my share of strange pairings during my years there.” Stubbornly he would not concede the point, though. “But knowing those two as I do, it’s still doubtful they would see each other that way.”

“Well, you may be right, Captain,” I had to agree. Based on the little I had seen of the two, any kind of relationship closer than that of fellow employees of the same Countess seemed quite unlikely. But I had been fooled before, and both Bittneld and I could be fooled this time. “Only one way to be certain.”

“I’ll let you get on with it,” Bittneld adjusted the claymore at his back. “I’m heading out to what’s left of the Gate to make certain the area is still clear.”

You mean take one last look at the place where you lost your men. I kept silent, only nodded my understanding. In your place, I would do the same. We parted ways, Bittneld for the South Gate, now standing open, and me back to the castle.

Inside, I asked one of the guards patrolling the private quarters where the west tower was located. He pointed out the short hallway that led back to the door. After thanking him, I moved to the portal. A few moments of trial-and-error revealed the correct key for the lock, and I entered the round room.

Typical storeroom. Across the way, I could see another door set in the wall, a door that likely led out to the arch tower, a freestanding structure that stood separately from either the castle or the town walls. Stacks of crates crowded around the room. I frowned. Where is the hatch to the lower level? I couldn’t see the usual trapdoor that provided the only access to a typical tower’s lower rooms, found in every well-built castle. Bittneld doesn’t strike me as the kind of captain that would allow such traps to be covered by crates. I walked between the containers to the opposite door.

As I passed them, I realized they were stacked in such a manner to leave an open space against the wall behind them, one on either side of the room. Against the northern arc a chair, empty bottles piled up behind them, hid behind the crates. Orgnolf. That must be where he was caught drinking. At a thought, I turned and looked along the opposite wall. The containers there were also stacked to provide a clear space around the familiar trapdoor.

Why pile the crates to block this from view? I moved to the trapdoor. After another search through the ring of keys, I unlocked it and swung the panel back.

A soft eerie glow greeted me. I did not smell the usual sooty odor that accompanied lanterns and torches. Instead, the glow was bluish-white in color. My feet found the rungs, and I made my way down into the lower level. Again, crates were piled haphazardly in the center of the room. But after the upper level, I knew to search along the walls. The lower room was divided roughly in half, with the ladder and a collection of items in one half, and an open space on the other side of the wall of crates. The glow came from that side, as well, and I found the opening that gave me access.

The smell of oil paint struck my nostrils as I rounded the barrier. My gaze fell on a painting, its colors glowing softly in the bluish light, mounted on an easel. A barrel next to it supported a palette with small jars of paint and a mug full of brushes.

I looked around. The source of the odd light turned out to be a large faceted stone, as long as my hand, wrapped in black metal filigree and resting in a bronze bowl, set against the stone wall. I held my hand over the glowing object and felt no heat rising from it. Cautiously I touched it with my fingertips. Though the light gave my fingers a reddish glow, the stone remained inert. I grasped the filigreed cage and picked it up. The light moved around the walls as I lifted it, testing the weight of the heavy stone. After a moment, I drew closer to the easel and held the glowing stone up to the painting.

The warm amber shape of a Chapel formed out of the loose brushstrokes, with a black and purple night sky looming against a defiant bell steeple. Glimmers on the surface of the paint suggested it was not yet dry. Recently painted. Is it completed? Or not? What if it’s the missing painting, painted over? I walked around behind it, holding the stone up to evaluate the back of the canvas. Bright, clean weaving met my gaze, with no dust, fine cobwebs or yellowing that would indicate years of hanging on a wall. No. New canvas.

I stepped back and considered the painting again. This must go with the paint in the dining room. But why paint there when there is already a studio set up here? A glance at the floor revealed layers of splattered paint. Someone’s been painting here for some time. Much longer than the past few days. I looked around the room again. Well, I’ve seen all there is to see here. Carefully, I replaced the stone back in its bronze bowl and returned to the iron rungs set in the wall.

Now to examine Orgnolf and Chanel’s chambers.

[SubRosa]

Star readings? On a rainy night?
Indeed! Something smells rotten in Chorrol!

Like most of the women in Chorrol,” he grunted. “Fine to look at, but quite snooty.
Ha! I have heard that before! Maybe he needs a grey mare to change his opinion...

Hmmmm “I’ve never seen her take any drink at all.” : says Bittneld. Yet Chanel says she retired to her quarters with a glass of wine...

I think we have a winner!