Old Habits Die Hard Part Six, some old habits never die Options

[Grits]

That was an interesting exchange between Jauffre and Julian, especially on the heels of the previous discussion of the differences between Blades and Legion. Now she has another life that she might want to choose (Anvil, Mages Guild), and while Jauffre makes joining the Dragonguard an order, he calls it a temporary reassignment. I enjoyed seeing the Grandmaster at work.

Julian’s new Dragonscale armor sounds magnificent! I drooled over every detail, and Jena’s lovingly made tunic brought a walnut to the throat.

Caroline’s line was the perfect ending, and I’m delighted that Captain Steffan has been kicked out of bed and into command.

I guess it’s time to saddle up!

[McBadgere]

I shook out the folds and held the tunic up by its shoulders. My breath stopped at the subtle glory of the Dragon, embroidered in white silk and fine detail across the linen front. I recognized the warm tingle of frost shield magic in its fabric. Jena’s promise whispered in my ear as I gave up my struggle to keep the tears back.

Yeah, you and me both girl... ...

That armour in the last part sounds awesome!!... ...

Wow...All caught up now...Absolutely amazing stuff...Brilliantly done...

Hope your ills retreat soon, so that you may continue/finish/start more...

Nice one!!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...

[haute ecole rider]

Welp. It's been a long time since I last updated this story. Julian's been quiet, and I've been preoccupied with RL. Things have eased up a bit, and I've returned to playing Oblivion once again. That has helped get the well of inspiration going, and Julian is speaking once again.

@Sage Rose: Thank you for your comments on the passage of time, both in-story and in RL. It's now been three years since I started writing this story, and both Julian and I are anxious to finish it. The armor is quite a beaut, isn't it? Wish I had a screenie of it, but as of yet I haven't made the time to create the mod for it. I'm glad my description came across.

@ghastley: It's true, not everyone shares Julian's fear of Steffan's despair. This is where we see why Jauffre is so insistent that every Blade have a second profession - preferably one that doesn't require full combat fitness. As for Julian's armor, it is the basic Blades armor but customized to fit her like mail. You may recall when she first looked at it, she could barely hold the standard cuirass up. Now it sits on her like a good leather set. I wanted to show our readers how far her strength has come since the story started.

@Acadian: I'm glad you enjoyed the description of the Dragonscale armor. I wanted to show how much the Blades of Cloud Ruler Temple love and respect their newest sister, and this was the way they chose to demonstrate their feelings about Julian. You may recall that Ferrum was present when Julian first inspected the armor with Captain Steffan. And that line you quoted, I think, sums up the relationship between Caroline and Ferrum quite succinctly. They are obviously closer since the ordeal that was the Plain of Caribou. As for Julian's reaction to the Imperial Dragon Armor, I think you will find out when we get to that point!

@Grits: Yes, Jauffre is beginning to show signs that he is looking beyond lighting the Dragonfires. He is beginning to visualize the shape of the Blades in the near future, and share his vision with both Baurus and Julian. Time to saddle up, indeed!

@McB: Thanks as always for your wholehearted endorsement of Julian's story, and especially her interactions with her fellow Blades.

The story so far: Now a member of Captain Baurus's Dragonguard, Julian must accompany Martin Septim to the Imperial City to see him relight the Dragonfires. Yes, this is the final episode of the Main Quest, and maybe the most heartbreaking.

****************************
Chapter 33.2 The Dragon’s Procession

The last shadows of the night retreated from the Silver Road as we gathered before the East Gate of Bruma. Blowing snow sparkled in the brilliant winter sun and whipped the crimson cloaks of Legio Six into bloody streaks across the white landscape. Above their helmeted heads, the draco standards whistled and snapped their impatience to be off.

Camillus spurred his raw-boned bay forward as we passed the Wildeye Stables. Nonius and Petrine paused in their grooming of the big Skyrim Paints to wave at Martin Septim. As he returned their greeting, I caught the smile in his profile.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t stop to talk to every wayfarer on the road,” Baurus muttered to me. He and I rode side by side behind the Emperor, the Dragonguard Captain mounted on a nondescript bay loaned from Legio Six. The horse had lost his rider on the Plain of Caribou, but had escaped relatively unscathed. Dunore and Ertius likewise rode similar mounts. The Legion horses’ smooth gaits made them suitable choices for these inexperienced riders.

The Plain of Caribou drew my gaze yet again. I knew no mortal remained on that field. Not a people to let unexpected bounty go to waste, the townspeople of Bruma had butchered the elk which had died on the Plain. Much of the meat ended up at Cloud Ruler Temple, where smokers burned nonstop. Bruma’s own meatshops also worked to preserve the rest in salt, smoke and drying chambers before it spoiled. Countess Carvain had already promised to send a large portion of it on to Kvatch, out of gratitude for the heavy sacrifice of the Wolf guards.

At the western edge of the Plain, near the wrecked barricades, funeral pyres burned with our dead. With the ground frozen hard, the decision was made to cremate those who had paid the ultimate price. Each pyre took bodies from a single town, and the resulting ashes were to be gathered into a communal urn to be carried back home by the survivors. The Bruma casualties had their own pyre outside the North Gate, while the ashes of our fallen Blades still smoked on the practice sands of Cloud Ruler Temple.

The grizzly bear and the wolves were also cremated, their ashes cooling before the remains of the siege engine. Burd had commented to me that they deserved their own memorial, but one of the townspeople, Edla Darkheart, suggested that because they had been sent by Kyne, they should be returned to her. Once their ashes were cooled enough to handle, the wild animals would find themselves scattered about the rim of the Plain, to guard against any daedra souls that still lingered on the Plain of Caribou.

As for the daedra and dremora, they too burned. Their remains were cut up and tossed onto the atronach fires, further feeding the flames. A thick pall of greasy smoke still hung over the field, but much of the work was done. When spring came, I had learned, the priests of Talos would bless the field and hopefully reverse the ill spell of the Deadlands. Privately I felt that Kyne would be better suited to restore the land after such devastation. But with no chapel and no priests of her own, how could we call on her for her blessing?

Blanco brought my thoughts back to the present as he snorted and tossed his head against the reins. I patted him fondly on his arched neck and turned my gaze forward, where Martin, on gentle Jasmine, rode between General Camillus and Grandmaster Jauffre. The mountainous Nord dwarfed the Emperor-to-be, yet Martin, resplendent in Tiber Septim’s cuirass, drew the bulk of the attention from the citizens of Bruma gathered outside the East Gate. Unlike the other two, Grandmaster Jauffre had resumed his black monk’s robe, though he still carried the dai-katana at his back.

With the yellow surcoats of the Bruma Guard behind her, Countess Carvain stepped before Martin. “Hail, Emperor of Cyrodiil!” Her contralto greeting rang clear in the cold air. As her people’s voices joined in waves of assent, she swept her fur-lined cloak behind her and knelt, all elegance and grace.

Jasmine stopped before the Countess, and Martin bent down to the woman in acknowledgement. “I am not yet Emperor,” he spoke softly, yet his voice rolled over the gathered assembly. “But I am grateful for your support and your faith. Bruma’s loyalty will not be forgotten!”

“You became our Emperor out there on the Field of Caribou,” Carvain straightened up, her clear gaze steady on Martin’s. “We need no further proof than that, Sire.” Her left arm waved toward the smoking ruins of the Gates. Jasmine stood stock still as Martin held his hand out to Carvain. She laid her right hand in his in the clasp of noble to noble. “I will follow you, Sire, in a couple of days. As a member of the Elder Council, I promise to be there to witness you light the Dragonfires.”

“I look forward to seeing you again, Countess.” Martin straightened up and lifted his face to the gathered Bruma people behind Carvain. “And I will serve all of you as Emperor, as I have served you on the battlefield here.”

This time the voices of Bruma rose in a roar that broke around the grey stones of the town walls like the surf on the cliffs outside Anvil. Baurus glanced at me as we listened to the sound. “They love him now,” the new Captain of the Dragonguard remarked softly, “but will they do so a year from now?”

“We will see,” I answered. “I think they will always love him, so long as they live to remember that,” I jerked my head toward the Plain. I looked back in time to see Martin nudge Jasmine onto the Silver Road. We followed, falling in behind the Septim. Both Dunore and Ertius took up their positions at Jauffre's right. With Camillus’s bulk on Martin’s left and the Legio Six outriders taking up the rest of the guard circle, we did not have to stretch the understrength Dragonguard so thin.

Grandmaster Jauffre, Captain Baurus and I had met with Camillus last night to plan the march down to the Imperial City. “It took us two days to come up to Bruma,” Camillus rumbled softly as we leaned over the map between us. “It will take us two days, if not longer, what with our wounded.”

“Leave them here,” I met his gaze. “Between Cirroc in the chapel and Selena Orania in the Mages Guild, your wounded will make a full recovery in no time. They can rejoin you as they can.”

“I have no wish to put further strain on Bruma’s resources,” Camillus shook his head. “They’ve already supported the equivalent of a second garrison here for over a month.”

“Lighten your pack train, then, sir,” Baurus tapped the map for emphasis. “Let them stay with your wounded, share the Legion resources with Bruma until your casualties are able to travel. Have your riders carry with them only what they need for the day.”

Camillus crossed his arms over his immense chest and cupped his bearded chin in one hand. His thoughtful gaze remained thoughtful on the map. “Only if the Countess and her Captain are amenable,” he rumbled finally. “I have to admit that I do like your suggestion, Captain Baurus.” He considered the idea a moment longer. “I am aware that time is critical here,” he continued. “This damned Crisis isn’t over until those Dragonfires are lit, and only Martin Septim can perform this ritual. The sooner he does this, the sooner we can all relax and get on with our lives.”

“We will send a messenger ahead to notify Ocato,” Jauffre added. I shot him a glance. Who? Can’t spare any of the Dragonguard!

“No,” Camillus shook his head. “Let me do that. I need to send a report to Phillida. My messenger may as well report to Ocato, as well. I will send my most trusted man to carry both messages.”

As he had promised, Camillus’s man had raced down the Silver Road before Baurus, Jauffre and I had mounted our horses for the ride back to Cloud Ruler Temple. Likely he was making his report to Ocato and Phillida at this very moment.

“Thinking about Captain Steffan?” The clopping of the horses’ feet on the icy cobblestones nearly obscured Baurus’s unexpected question. I kept my gaze forward and swallowed nervously. Not you too, Baurus. Don’t think less of me - “He’s a good man, Julian.” His next words were unexpected. “And I think he cares about you, too.”

In spite of my struggle for self-control, I shot a glance at Baurus, but his face was turned forward. I swallowed the grief in my throat. “It’s hard not to,” I said finally. Think of him, or care about him, I added silently.

“You’ll have to stay focused on the Emperor’s safety,” Baurus’s tone remained soft, but I could sense the implacability that now served him well as Captain. He slid a sidelong glance at me. “But it won’t be easy.”

“I’ll do it,” I tried to match that bedrock in Baurus’s voice.

“Do it.” It was a command. “If you feel the way about Captain Steffan the way I think you do, you will not want to let him down.”

“Yes, sir.” There’s a lot of people I don’t want to let down, I mused to myself.

“So you decided to leave Sai at Cloud Ruler Temple?” Baurus commented as we rounded the hairpin turn at the bottom of the slope.

“He has become quite devoted to Captain Steffan,” I breathed deeply in relief at the change of subject. “I think he will be of more use there than he would with us.” I shrugged beneath the blue cloak of the Dragonguard. “He is still not too comfortable around so many Legion soldiers.”

“Captain Steffan needs that kind of loyalty right now,” Baurus nodded. “He may respond first to Sai before any of us.”

Jauffre reined Red back alongside us. “I agree,” he murmured. Surprised, we glanced at him. “I may be old,” he growled in mock disgruntlement, “but my hearing is still sharp as ever!” His eyes glinted at us. “Not only will Sai help bring the good Captain’s spirits back, but he will also provide some entertainment for those we have left behind.”

My thoughts turned to the big Nord still laying in the Chapel priest’s cell. “If only Roliand would wake up,” I murmured to myself. “Or pass on. Lingering like this can’t be good for his spirit.”

Baurus and Jauffre were silent for a few moments. Jauffre sighed finally. “We can only wait,” he said finally. “It is up to Talos, not us.” He slapped Red’s neck when the stallion pinned his ears at Blanco and tried to snap at the white horse. “Shush, boy,” he growled. “No competing in the middle of winter!” Blanco blew a derisive snort as if agreeing with the Grandmaster, but otherwise did not alter his sedate amble.

[treydog]

This is a Sunday treat indeed. Will have more to say later- besides "WELCOME back, Julian!"

The last shadows of the night retreated from the Silver Road as we gathered before the East Gate of Bruma. Blowing snow sparkled in the brilliant winter sun and whipped the crimson cloaks of Legio Six into bloody streaks across the white landscape. Above their helmeted heads, the draco standards whistled and snapped their impatience to be off.

And just that quickly, you again draw us into the world of Cyrodiil, allowing us to experience it as Julian does.

Magnificent.

[Acadian]

Welcome back!

A cold and pensive trip south toward The Imperial City after some beautifully fitting observations and poignant farewells to Bruma for the time being. I was reaching for my furs and a cape to ward the blowing snow!

Camillus is quite right to be on edge until those pesky dragonfires once again burn brightly.

Baurus’ concern for Julian is touching but unwarranted. Whatever is required, she will rise to the requirement.

[SubRosa]

Yaay! It is good to see Julian of Anvil back in action.

Your first paragraph was a wonder of brilliant description, really setting the scene for what follows.

Once their ashes were cooled enough to handle, the wild animals would find themselves scattered about the rim of the Plain, to guard against any daedra souls that still lingered on the Plain of Caribou.
This was a wonderful thought.

[ghastley]

Continuing smoothly as if you hadn't been interrupted by RL.

I like the way your battles are planned in advance, and their consequences and cleanup continue after they happen. The aftermath normally lasts much longer than the event itself, and you capture that well. In particular, the fact that the effects can last longer than the memory of what happened.

[McBadgere]

Excellent stuff!!...

Brilliant to see you both back!!... ...

Beautiful writing, as ever...

Looking forward to this endgame...Should be a blast!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[Grits]

Oh, your opening paragraph is magnificent. *blissful sigh*

“I look forward to seeing you again, Countess.” Martin straightened up and lifted his face to the gathered Bruma people behind Carvain. “And I will serve all of you as Emperor, as I have served you on the battlefield here.”

I love the way Martin speaks of serving as Emperor rather than ruling.

How wonderful to have you and Julian back!

[haute ecole rider]

Thanks to all of you who have posted - it is good to be back.

@treydoggie: Thanks! It seems that the paragraph you quoted struck quite a few others too. I'm glad to see that you are sucked back into the story so easily. And thanks for the butt-wagging welcome! It brought a smile to our faces as it always does!

@Acadian: Thank you for your confidence in Julian's ability to see the job done. She still doubts herself because the shame of those four years of addiction is still too strong. She is constantly comparing herself to her former self as pilus prior of the Ninth Cohort, while she fails to see how she has grown beyond that role. The others, especially her former commander Camillus can see it, but Julian remains blind to it.

@Sage Rose: That scene you pointed out was actually written at the same time as the Battle of Bruma itself. I was waiting for the right place to put it, and this episode was perfect as the final assessment of the cost of the battle, this time on the environment itself. I rather thought you would like those sections very much. I wanted to show that even the animals play a role in our environment.

@ghastley: Any student of history knows that the aftermath takes longer to deal with than the actual event itself. I'm glad you popped in to read the update and I'm happy to know that you feel it is still worth reading.

@McB: Thanks for your vote! I don't know about the endgame being a blast, but it is fast-paced. I admit that while I typically write my stories in chronological fashion, I actually wrote the endgame before resuming my posting this time around. I have a few more sections to fill in between now and then, but having the endgame already written makes it easier for me to write the final stretch. So I'm hoping it won't be a letdown after all the buildup to it.

@Grits: I'm glad you called out Martin's statement about serving as Emperor. He wasn't raised in an atmosphere of privilege like his father or half-brothers, but rather in one of service (not necessarily the same as servitude). Being a priest of Akatosh until just recently, Martin is stuck in that mindset, and can not see the role of Emperor as being other than the servant of the Cyrodiilic Empire. I'm absolutely delighted that you picked up on that.

The story so far: With the Battle of Bruma behind them, Martin Septim, Julian, Grandmaster Jauffre and Baurus set off for the Imperial City. They are accompanied by Dunore and Ertius, the latest additions to the reconstituted Dragonguard, and by the cavalry cohort of Legio Six, Julian's former legion.

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

Chapter 33.3 Return to Aelwin’s Hospitality

“O my!” Aelwin Merowald met us at the gate to his small corral. “It’s Julian! With an entire Legion at her back!” He squinted up at us through the rain. “Brother Martin?” he asked, his bemused gaze settling on Jasmine’s rider, Tiber Septim’s armor shimmering in the rain.

“Not Brother Martin anymore, Merowald,” I dismounted from Blanco. “He is Martin Septim, and he is here to relight the Dragonfires and end this Crisis.”

“No!” Merowald’s eyes grew saucer-sized. He turned toward Martin as the former priest vaulted from Jasmine in a swirl of his purple cloak. As Martin Septim turned to face Aelwin, the Breton fisherman recalled his place and dropped to his knees. “Forgive this ignorant fool, Sire --”

“What is there to forgive, Aelwin?” Martin’s tone held nothing but warmth, welcome in this cold winter rain. “When we last met, I was but a priest of Akatosh fleeing destruction.” He reached down and gripped Merowald’s thin shoulder, helping the old man back to his feet.

“Sire!” Merowald would not meet Martin’s gaze. “I should 'ave guessed that the son of Uriel that took the battlefield outside Bruma would ‘ave been ye - !”

Martin Septim shook his head with a smile. “It did not become common knowledge until then,” he murmured. “And now I am here with a request for you.”

Merowald’s pale eyes shot up to Martin’s face. “A request?” He moved to kneel again, but Martin’s hand on his shoulder kept him on his feet. “Anything, Sire!”

“I know your corral is small, Merowald,” Martin nodded toward the gate. “But I would ask that you put up my horse and those of my Dragonguard. The Legion riders will help you with the stallions.” He smiled at Merowald’s stunned expression. “And I will see you well recompensed for their care.”

“Don’t ye worry about recompense, Sire!” Merowald found his voice. “Of course your ‘orses are always welcome!”

Martin released Merowald’s shoulder with a final squeeze. He glanced up at the gloomy sky overhead. “It looks like the rain will ease up in a bit.” His hazel eyes moved toward City Isle, barely visible in the rain beyond the arches of the Great Bridge. “Once I pass through those gates, I will have no more peace in my days.” He turned toward Merowald. “I never forgot the hospitality you showed Julian and me when we last passed this way. I would like to rest here a while before we move on.”

Merowald gulped a little as his gaze moved over the company obscuring the road in front of his humble home. Martin smiled at him and clapped his shoulder. “Just myself, Julian, Captain Baurus,” he indicated the impassive Redguard, “and my advisor Brother Jauffre.”

Relief warred with anxiety over Merowald’s face. Jauffre stepped forward and bowed slightly to the aged Breton, his hands together in front of his chest in greeting. “Goodman Aelwin,” his gentle tone seemed to settle the other, “I have experience in feeding unexpected guests. Perhaps we can let them sit by your fire and dry their cloaks while you and I prepare a simple repast for them?”

“Nay!” Merowald shook his head. “No guests of mine shall do work in my ‘ouse!”

Jauffre’s smile widened as Baurus and I exchanged glances. How often does Jauffre get told ‘nay’? Especially by a poor retired fisherman? “Don’t consider me a guest, then, Aelwin,” Jauffre’s tone remained soft. “Consider me a Brother of Talos, sworn to help others where ever the opportunity presents itself. Dare you keep me from following my duties?”

Merowald’s gaze drifted to me, consternation clear in his expression. I smiled gently at him. “These people have traveled far, Merowald,” I said. “You can keep them out in the rain arguing about who does what, or let them into your house and accept any help that is offered. They do not wish to burden you, but they would appreciate a rest before traveling that steep road to the City.” I moved to gather the horses’ reins from the others. “I’ll settle the horses in your corral while you rustle something hot - with Brother Jauffre’s help.” I winked at him. “Tis not every day you get to host the Emperor in your own home!”

Merowald swallowed hard again, anxiety still warring in his face. Dunore stepped forward from his outrider position. “Goodman,” he addressed the old Breton, “if you are short on victuals, please let me know what you need and I will step across to the Weye Inn and purchase the needed supplies.”

Apparently that eased the last of Merowald’s concerns, for his face eased into the broadest grin I had ever seen. “Of course! Come in, Sire, come in and make yourself comfortable by the fire! Ye too, Captain -”

“Baurus,” the Redguard’s grin gleamed through the pouring rain as he removed his helm and nodded. “I will go first, Sire, if you will just wait briefly.”

“Of course, Captain,” Martin drew his imperial purple cloak closer around him, covering the resplendent armor of Tiber Septim. He turned to Merowald. “And good Aelwin, you must tell me the latest news here. I have been isolated from Cyrodiil for much too long.”

It took Baurus less time to clear the cottage than it did for me to bring the horses into the corral. I led Jasmine, Blanco and Baurus’s bay, Juniper. Ertius followed with Red, his own mount Ruby and Dunore’s horse Baracoa. With a couple of the Mo Gu archers helping, we set up a stake line across the little corral. The two stallions were tied in opposite corners along the line, as far from each other as the fence would allow. Jasmine, with her longstanding relationship with Red, was placed next to him. The boisterous stallion was ecstatic to have her beside him, even though she still pinned her ears and snaked her head at him. Ruby, the other mare, seemed happy to exchange whickers with Blanco, though she too showed no interest in more romantic overtures. Both geldings, Juniper and Baracoa, contentedly took up the center positions beneath the spreading oak tree, now bare of its leaves.

The Mo Gu archers claimed the horses’ tack and brought it under cover alongside their own, and provided rainsheets to keep the horses dry. They promised to see that the horses were fed and watered, and chased us toward Merowald’s cottage.

As I entered the small dwelling, I paused to shake the rain off my dark blue cloak. I missed the plain brown wool cloak that was undeniably warmer than the Dragonguard blue. It was rolled up in my saddlebag with the rest of my gear. Captain Baurus had advised me to pack some civilian clothes as well as spare tunics and socks.

Merowald left his cooking fire and bustled up to me to take the cloak. “I’ll ‘ang it up to dry!” He exclaimed over my drenched armor. “Good thing ye’ve kept it oiled, or it’ll rust! Terrible rain, this time of year!”

“At least it’s not snowing,” I remarked with a smile as I let him lead me to a chair next to Baurus. He looked up from the oiling of his katana as I sat down.

“Yet,” Merowald shook his finger at me and returned to the wooden table where Jauffre attacked a large onion. “Keep your head up, Brother,” he admonished the taller Breton. “Th’ onions won’t make ye weep so much.”

I thought again about the conversation we had our last night at Cloud Ruler Temple. Jauffre had reminded us that he was known as Grandmaster only to a few people outside the Blades. In public, he was only Brother Jauffre, and would dress once again as a monk of the Order of Talos.

“But all of Bruma knows you as the Grandmaster!” I exclaimed. “And after your performance on the Plain of Caribou, so do the guardsmen of other cities!”

“But I’m not as distinctive in appearance as a white-haired Redguard woman,” Jauffre shook his finger at me. “Out of armor, I’m just another old Breton. They won’t look twice at me dressed as a monk. Not when they’ve got this peacock -” he jerked his thumb at Baurus, who scowled at the implication, “- standing next to me.” Jauffre grinned more widely at the Redguard’s discomfort. “And people will be looking at the Emperor, not me!”

“But once things settle down, and the Dragonfires are lit, what then?” I asked. “You can hide in those monk’s robes only so long. People will notice how the Dragonguard defers to you and begin to wonder.”

Jauffre shook his head. “Once the Dragonfires are lit and the damned Crisis is ended, I intend to go back to Weynon Priory and resume my duties there as Brother Jauffre. The Blades will have a new Grandmaster.”

Now both Baurus and I stared at him. A new Grandmaster? “Who?” I wondered aloud.

Baurus seemed more disconcerted than I at the look Jauffre sent us. “I’m still getting used to being Captain of the Dragonguard, sir!”

“And Captain of the Dragonguard you shall remain,” Jauffre assured him, his gaze on me. I gasped.

“Me?” I shook my head fiercely. “How can I lead something I know so little about?”

“Nor you, Julian,” he smiled sadly. “Your destiny takes you elsewhere.” He tapped the side of his nose with a callused finger. “But I do have a few candidates in mind. So worry no more! The Blades will still be in good hands!”

[McBadgere]

Truly excellent!!... ...

I loved this stop off at the fisherman's cottage... ...

The whole of the piece was amazing, but I absolutely loved Jauffre in it...Fantastic character, massively underused in the game...It's been brilliant reading him here...

Looking forward to whatever you have planned...

And retroactively filling in the gaps is part of the fun!!!... ...

Loved it!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[Acadian]

What a delightful reunion with Aelwin! I’m so glad Martin decided to stable the horses with him rather than with ‘Orca Snack Grabber’ up at the Chestnut Handy.

I loved the craftiness of robed ‘Brother Jauffre’ here as he worked to put Aelwin at ease hosting the Emperor-in-waiting and his armored blades.

And Baurus was no slouch here either, checking Aelwin’s house first for any potential Mythic Dawnsters or other threats – nice touch.

So Brother Jauffre plans to return to his monkiness at Weynon and appoint a new Grandmaster. We ruled out Baurus and Julian so a little mystery it shall be. Does a Grandmaster need both hands, I wonder.

[SubRosa]

“Once I pass through those gates, I will have no more peace in my days.”
A prophetic statement, sadly, in more ways that one.

It was interesting to view Brother Jauffre here from a different perspective, in his cover as an ordinary monk, rather than the Grandmaster that we are so accustomed to seeing him as.

And it seems a new Grandmaster is in the offering? My money is on Captain Steffan.

[ghastley]

Jauffre has a good point. The common folk will see the uniform, not the man inside. Especially of that period, where it was for display, not camouflage, because you wanted your own side to know where you were. Doesn't stop the friendly fire in the game, of course.

I like the way you (and SubRosa) expand the size of everything to proper proportions. In the game, it's just you, Jauffre, and Martin travelling to the city. And that would be a crowd in Weye!

I'm not betting on Steffan, until he's got out of his funk. After that, he's got what it takes.

[haute ecole rider]

@McB: Aelwin has been waiting patiently for Julian and Brother Martin to return. Only now he gets the Emperor in 'is 'ouse! I felt it was appropriate, considering his hospitality when they were walking to Weynon Priory and the beginning of a tremendous transition for Martin Septim, that our returning hero and the heir stop to enjoy his company once more before Martin Septim becomes the next Emperor. I am glad you enjoyed visiting with Aelwin again as well.

@Acadian: Yes, our crafty Grandmaster (someone once compared him to a spider in a web) is already thinking ahead. He is quite the chessplayer and we only begin to see the merest hint of his skills. I also wanted to show Baurus making the most of his second chance as Dragonguard. He will not fail this time. His determination and serious regard of his heavy responsibility is logical considering what happened on his watch just a few months ago.

@SubRosa: Yes, I know that statement of Martin's is blatant foreshadowing, but I figured, what the heck. Most if not all of my readers know how things end for him. As a matter of fact, the characters in this story are the last to know! I wanted to show Martin mentally gearing himself for the marathon that is Imperial rule. He has to stop thinking like a priest and start thinking as an Emperor. It will not be easy for him, and he is aware of that. So you are rooting for Cap'n Steff to be the next Grandmaster? I'm still on the fence about the whole Grandmaster business - I mean, what happens to the Blades after the last of the Dragonblood is gone? What is their purpose then? Who are they going to serve? And how will this affect their organization? Those are questions I've been asking myself ever since I started writing this story. I don't have all the answers yet, but I'm slowly moving toward a vision of the future.

@ghastley: I agree, Steffan needs to snap out of it before he can be considered leadership material. But not to worry, he will! Snap out of it, I mean. But Grandmaster? Not sure yet. As for making things bigger than they are in the game, I have SubRosa to thank for that. She is responsible for getting me to shed the limitations of the game and to stretch my wings literally and figuratively in imaging this story and daring to depart from what I saw and experienced in the game.

The story so far: Our Imperial party has stopped in Weye for a little respite. Martin Septim and his escort have managed to talk 'umble little Aelwin into 'osting them for a wayfarer's meal and putting up their 'orses. Now it's time to eat (and feed Acadian!)

************************
Chapter 33.4 A Warm Respite

The aged Breton, with Jauffre’s help, managed to throw together a hearty meal of roasted vegetables, grilled slaughterfish and sliced apples marinated in spiced cider. He provided me with a glass of the leftover cider, and offered the others hot mulled wine.

Along with the meal, Merowald filled us in on the local gossip. “That Captain Lex is still goin’ on about the Grey Fox,” he remarked. “Insists there is such a thing as a Thieves’ Guild! But ‘ow can a bunch of onery, independent operators form anything like a guild? Tell me that!”

Jauffre slid me a wry glance. “They said something like that about the mages centuries ago,” he remarked casually from behind his pewter beaker.

“And look at them now!” Aelwin nodded as if it proved his point. “‘alf of them left when Arch Mage Traven banned the practice of necromancy. Though it’s still legal in Cyrodiil.” He shook his head. “Don’t understand why anyone would want to mess with dead bodies. Dead is dead, if ye ask me!”

Until you meet a zombie in a dark and damp dungeon, I mused silently to myself. Then you begin to wonder about the difference between life and death. If you survive the encounter.

“And then there’s the uproar in the Market District over that new merchant,” Aelwin continued. “I always go to see Jensine at Good as New for my essentials.” He shook his head. “She’s complaining about the cut-rate prices from that new guy.”

“Really?” Martin had said little throughout the meal, but his gaze remained interested in Merowald’s chatter. “How low is he pricing?”

“Really low, to ‘ear Jensine tell it,” Merowald responded. When Martin refused the refill he offered, he set the wine pitcher on the table. “She’s saying ‘e’ll put ‘er out of business!”

I slid a glance at Martin Septim. Are you thinking of what you need to do after the Dragonfires are lit? Let the Watch investigate these matters. You have the entire Empire to worry about!

A knock at the door interrupted Merowald’s tale of disgruntled merchants. “Sire?” Camillus’s muted thunder rumbled through the wooden panels. “It’s the Inspector General. The rain’s lightened up.”

“Come in,” Martin set his beaker down and rose to his feet. Merowald opened the door and stepped back to let the immense Legion general into his tiny dwelling.

“Sire,” Camillus saluted Martin. “It’s getting cold, and late. Best be in the City before the road gets icy.”

“I’ll get the horses saddled up,” I moved toward the door, but Martin shook his head.

“I am not yet Emperor,” his tone held implacability. “I will walk into the City like everyone else. Leave the horses with Aelwin a while longer.” He smiled at the old man. “I know how you enjoy their company.”

“But it’s getting late, Sire,” Camillus protested. “And it’s not proper --!”

“It’s not proper to presume before things are confirmed,” Martin responded, cutting off the objections from Baurus and Jauffre before they could speak. “Just because I wear the Amulet of Kings does not make me Emperor. Only by lighting the Dragonfires can I claim the Ruby Throne and take my place as Emperor Uriel’s heir.”

Baurus looked clearly unhappy at the thought of keeping the citizens away from a potential target on foot. I moved to his side and leaned to his ear. “He’ll be a harder target for a sniper,” I whispered. “And he’ll stand out less if he’s not mounted.”

Baurus’s lips tightened and he nodded reluctantly. “Let’s get Dunore and Ertius ahead to scout the way to the Tiber Septim Hotel.” I acknowledged his command and stepped outside to find the others. Dunore, standing beneath the dripping eaves, turned as I paused to get my bearings.

“Ertius is walking the perimeter, ma’am,” he saluted me in greeting. “Looks like it will turn icy later on.”

I had to agree. My breath soughed visibly in the misty air, and I could feel tiny pellets striking my bare cheeks. I drew the now-dry cloak closer around me and pulled my hood up over my bare head.

“Dunore, Baurus wants you and Ertius to go ahead and scout out the road to the Tiber Septim Hotel. The Watchmen should be expecting you by now. Check for potential snipers. Wait inside the gates unless you notice something off.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Dunore nodded as Ertius appeared around the northeastern corner of the cottage. He signaled the other to fall in with him and stepped toward the road. As if at a sudden thought, he turned back to me. “The Emperor is walking?”

“Yes, Dunore,” I nodded. “Until he has lighted the Dragonfires and is formally acknowledged as Emperor, Martin Septim will travel within the City on foot, like everyone else.”

“Understood,” Dunore nodded emphatically. Together he and Ertius exited Merowald’s garden, now brown with winter frost, and headed off into the mist.

I returned to the warmth of the cottage and nodded at Baurus. He plucked his cloak from its peg beside the fire and swung it over his shoulders, careful to clear the hilt of the katana at his left hip. “Inspector General Camillus will accompany us to the Tiber Septim Hotel,” he advised me. “Once we’re settled in, he will go on and report our arrival to High Chancellor Ocato and to the primus legate Phillida.”

Camillus joined us. “Then Ocato will likely come to the Hotel to meet Martin Septim and discuss the next stage.” He shook his head. “I would rather escort Uriel’s son directly to the White Gold Tower and have him take the Throne immediately, but proper protocol must be observed!” His mustache fluttered with his derisive snort.

“Proper protocol?” I repeated. Camillus nodded.

“Martin Septim says that the Elder Council must be present when he lights the Dragonfires. Until they are gathered, he will not step foot inside the Palace.”

I sighed. So close! But we have to wait, just like in the Legion. “Hurry up and wait, sir?” I commented softly to the big mountain next to me. His beard rumbled with a deep-throated growl which could be a chuckle.

Martin finished taking his leave of the awe-struck Merowald and approached us with Jauffre. He nodded his readiness at Camillus, who opened the door. As Baurus stepped out, Merowald touched my arm.

“Julian,” he drew me down to his face. “Are ye well?”

I smiled and covered his gnarled hand with mine. “Yes, Merowald.”

He shook his head. “Nay, ye seem sad. More so now than before. Ye lost many good friends up there in Bruma, didn’t ye?”

My breath caught at the reminder. My eyes turned to the clean-swept dirt floor of his cottage. “Yes, we lost many comrades there, Merowald.”

Merowald waited until the others had stepped out. “And is Martin Septim upset with ye about something?” His voice was a whisper. “I noticed ‘e barely spoke to ye.”

I was silent for a moment. I’ve been avoiding him. Or has he been avoiding me too? But as his Dragonguard, I can’t be too familiar with him. My job is to stay objective and keep his safety first, not his friendship. “I’ve been detailed to the Dragonguard. Our job of keeping Martin Septim safe comes first. And I’m on duty right now.”

He considered me a moment longer. I wondered just how much the old man could read in my face, and hoped he saw none of the despair I felt. “Aye, I’ll not keep ye from your proper duty, then. Julian,” he shook my vambrace. “Don’t ye forget about me!”

I smiled. “Never, Merowald. Take good care of the horses. I’ll see you again soon!”

[Acadian]

‘...and feed Acadian! ...a hearty meal of roasted vegetables, grilled slaughterfish and sliced apples marinated in spiced cider.’
Oh this sounds marvelicious! Whiskey for my men and beer for my horses! Thanks for continuing this pause in Weye – it was not only fun, but continues to contribute to the underlying magnitude and tension of what lies ahead.

It was wonderful to hear Aelwin’s take on all the IC gossip. A delightfully tongue-in-cheek nod to several familiar rumors and quests.

I’m glad Martin insisted on leaving the horses with Aelwin. Plenty of reasons, and Julian pointed out a good one to Baurus.

A poignant and foreshadowing farewell between Aelwin and Julian.

Onward!

[SubRosa]

Well, the Blades basically have a dual purpose agenda. Protect the Dragonborn Emperor, and act as a spy organization for him. With no Emperor, I would expect that their first priority would be to locate a new Dragonborn Emperor. With the Amulet of Kings destroyed that will not be easy, as the litmus test of who is Akatosh's chosen is now gone. OTOH, it is not a hereditary thing. After all, Reman was not related to Alessia, and Tiber Septim not related to Reman. Anyone could be the new Emp.

As far as their role as spies goes, it all depends on whether or not the new Grandmaster decides to work for the Elder Council in the absence of the Emperor. I could easily see that go either way. So far as I know, the Blades are personally sworn to the Emperors, not to the State. So they may refuse to serve anyone they do not acknowledge as being worthy of the throne. However, refusing to serve as spies would reduce their relevancy, and force the Elder Council into replacing them with a new spy organization.

In Skyrim's history the Blades did not support the Mede Emperors (the original Titus Mede became Emp with the help of Clavius Vile). The Medes created their own intelligence network called the Penitus Oculatus (which I guess means the Penis Eye... ). OTOH, The Thalmor killed off all but two of the Blades' agents at the beginning of the Great War, which implies that they were still spying, although for who is anyone's guess. Of course you are not beholden to follow the history Bethesda put down. It is your story, you make the calls.

But on to current business! As ever Aelwin keeps us well fed with a tasty meal, then fully up to breast with every rumor floating around!

I see Martin is definitely growing into his role as Emperor-to-be. Walking into the city, refusing to enter White Gold Tower until he is formally acknowledged as Emperor, etc... might be seen as stubbornness by some. But he is obeying the laws and customs of his people, and in so doing showing that he will be an Emperor who will live by those laws and customs. A start contrast to the Mede Emperors who would follow him.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 13 2013, 04:58 PM

[ghastley]

It makes sense to me that an illegitimate son would be extra-careful following protocol to make sure there aren't any technicalities in his way to taking the throne. The game suggests that Ocato has consulted the Elder Council (who mysteriously never occupy all those seats in the Council chamber) so even when Bethsoft kept the cast small, they made that the niceties were observed.

Baurus getting the route scouted ahead of them is a nice touch. I can't remember if it was him, or Glenroy, that does that during the tutorial, but it worked as far as it went, with the final "failure" resulting from a forced detour from the scouted route.

Even with something as simple as competition in the Market District, Martin's showing an ability to see past the superficial. He's immediately aware that something's wrong with the picture, and the Watch need telling that from above.

[Grits]

“O my!” Aelwin Merowald met us at the gate to his small corral. “It’s Julian! With an entire Legion at her back!”
Aelwin’s antics with Jauffre’s calm support were delightful.

I’m hoping that Captain Steffan decides to retire and put his architectural side-interest to use. Grandmaster of the Blades at the start of the Fourth Era sounds like a pretty bad deal to me (though of course they don't know that). Plus if Julian’s destiny takes her elsewhere, it’s probably a long way from CRT.

Then a warm respite indeed. Very nice to catch up on other doings in Cyrodiil.

The new distance between Julian and Martin was interesting. As his Dragonguard she’ll be among those closest to him, but of course her attention is focused more outward rather than on him. That would be a painful change in their relationship.

This post has been edited by Grits: May 19 2013, 05:44 PM

[haute ecole rider]

@Acadian: Yes, it was a delightful break in Weye for our Imperial party. And I admit that I wanted to show the impact Julian has had on the people around her, even if she isn't always aware of it herself. Even the smallest interaction has repercussions. Her kindness to Aelwin in the beginning, when she took it upon herself to collect the scales of twelve Tamriel Barracuda for his retirement fund, has been repaid in spades. Every time I play this game, I always do this quest just because I want to "borrow" that little enclosure next to his house for my horses. And it doesn't feel right unless I do something special for him first. And yes, I'm setting up for some future quests!

@Sage Rose: Thank you for your insight regarding the future of the Blades. It has been very helpful in clarifying where I want to go with this. The future in Julian's TES will unfold according to what has happened in this story, not as what will happen in Skyrim. I haven't even played that game yet, and have no plans to do so in the near future. I am actually waiting until the price for the disc drops to something more reasonable. I know there are plenty of mods out there, and I may find new inspiration. But at this point there is so much richness and variety in TES IV that I feel I haven't plumbed the depths of it yet. And you nailed it when you described Martin as being very aware of the laws and customs of his people in refusing to ride horses within the IC. I visualize IC as being very much like Imperial Rome, with similar customs and traditions. And being a priest, Martin is very conscious of "how things are done."

@ghastley: You have pointed out the other reason for Martin closely observing protocol. As an illegitimate son of potentially many, why would Martin be the one to claim the Ruby Throne? By publicly demonstrating proof of his destiny through lighting the Dragonfires (can anyone think of more convincing proof that he is the Dragonborn?), Martin can settle any grumbles concerning his right to rule. And yes, that line of Ocato's where he says he consulted with the Elder Council was my takeoff point for this attitude of Martin's. And you're right, Martin sees the competition in the Market District as a symptom of a deeper, more fundamental problem. It would be worhtwhile exploring the causes and conditions leading to such a mundane, minor issue.

@Grits: I'm glad you enjoyed seeing Aelwin again. He needed to have a few moments in the spotlight again, especially as he has hosted Julian's mounts so many times already. So you think Steffan should retire and go into architecture? It's true that an architect technically doesn't need two hands - just a quick and intelligent mind. I like to think that Julian's Captain Steffan has that mind. Otherwise why would she be so attracted to him? And you have a gift of prophecy! Julian won't be back to CRT for some time. And you did pick up on the new distance between Julian and Martin. There is more to it than just her new role as his Dragonguard. Romantic movies notwithstanding, a good bodyguard can not become emotionally involved or too friendly with his charge - it can compromise his ability to protect said charge. For this I am using Simon Donovan's approach in the series the West Wing. He was a Secret Service agent assigned to protect Allison Janney's CJ after she received death threats in her email. The attraction between the two never got in the way of his performance of his duties, and made his death all the more tragic. (BTW, that was when I started liking Mark Harmon as an actor - he's not just another pretty face!). But still, there is something else going on there, and I think we will begin to see it before Julian does!

The story so far: After a delightful repast at Aelwin's little cottage, Martin Septim and his entourage head out to the Imperial City. Will they have a quiet entrance as Baurus and Julian hope? Let's find out!

*************************
Chapter 33.5 Arrival

The Watchmen within the gates clattered to attention as Camillus entered the City ahead of Martin Septim. The big Nord’s scarlet cloak swirled as he acknowledged their salutes and paused before the waiting Watch Captain.

“Itius Hayn,” he grumbled. “Report!”

The Imperial crisply saluted the Inspector General. His gaze drifted past Camillus’s bulk momentarily at us, then returned to the Nord. “All’s quiet now, sir,” he said. “We have an escort waiting for Martin Septim.”

Camillus turned and met Captain Baurus’s gaze. I caught the look Baurus cast around the entrance, and followed his glance. At the top of the steps leading to Talos Plaza I could see two Blades standing. Dunore and Ertius. They saluted Baurus and strode down to where we waited.

“All clear, sir,” Dunore reported when they stood before Baurus, at Martin’s right. Jauffre, in his place at the Emperor’s left, nodded slightly, but the new Dragonguard Captain did not notice his approval. From my place behind Martin, I couldn’t see Baurus’s face, but every line of his form radiated total concentration on the task at hand.

Baurus nodded at Camillus, who turned back to Hayn and gestured for the Watch Captain to proceed. The burnished armor glimmered in the sleeting evening light as Hayn turned sharply and gestured for the waiting Watchmen to fall in around us. Without pause to see their prompt response, he marched off toward the Dragon statue.

As we followed, foot traffic came to a standstill. The noise of the Watch armor around us warned people of our approach. As heads turned in our direction and bodies scattered to the sides, a murmur slowly replaced the normal commotion of the City. Individual words and phrases could be heard, but not entire sentences - Dragonguard! The Amulet of Kings? Crisis? No more daedra? Bless the Nine! The Hero of Kvatch! Of Bravil! Bruma! The last few made me wince the first couple of times I heard them. Deal with it, Julian. That’s what you get for not wearing a helm. You’re a Dragonguard now. Focus.

The short walk to the entrance of the Tiber Septim Hotel strained my nerves as the crowd around us grew. They began to press in upon us, squeezing us between the iron armor of the Watchmen. I found myself gripping Touch’s hilt as their plate began brushing against mine. Fortunately before we began mounting the steps to the Plaza, more Watchmen arrived and began pushing the folk back.

Dunore and Ertius moved ahead to the double bronze panels leading within the hotel and paused, each gripping a tall handle. They glanced back at us. I sensed rather than saw Baurus’s nod as we drew near the wide stoop. Smoothly the pair eased the doors inward and entered the hotel. Momentarily they disappeared within its dimness, then Ertius reappeared with a nod of reassurance.

Martin Septim, Camillus and Brother Jauffre entered the hotel, with Baurus and myself on their heels. As Ertius and I closed the bronze panels after ourselves, the murmuring of the crowd outside rose to an amazed, awed and wondering crescendo. Then silence cascaded through the lobby as the heavy doors banged softly together.

My hand dropped from my katana hilt when a quick glance around showed few people about, none armed. Augusta Calidia, the proprietor of the Tiber Septim Hotel, stared at us, her conversation with a guest forgotten. The guest turned around, and I recognized Gwinas. Both sets of eyes widened at the sight of the Amulet of Kings on Martin Septim’s breast.

Calidia laid a beringed hand on her bateau neckline and took a deep, slow breath. Then she stepped forward to the counter. “Wel - welcome to the Tiber Septim Hotel,” her voice, initially unsteady, settled into its usual confident timbre. “How may I help you, gentlemen?” Her gaze passed over me and flickered in brief recognition. “And ma’am?”

I stepped forward. “Martin Septim requests a room here for the next few days,” I put on my most formal manner. “He has traveled far and is in need of rest. A suite would be nice, if you have one available.”

Calidia exchanged glances with Gwinas, whose visage crumbled in dismay. “There is only one suite such as you require, and it is -” she hesitated, her gaze on the Bosmer. I realized that Gwinas occupied the grandest room in the hotel. Somehow I wasn’t surprised. I turned to Baurus and Jauffre.

“Give me a few moments, please, sirs. Perhaps a seat by the fire,” I waved toward one of the massive fireplaces at one end of the lobby, “and a flagon of wine?”

Martin Septim’s hazel gaze flickered at me, then he inclined his head. “Of course, it is a good idea. I’m chilled again!” He moved to the right, where a comfortable seating arrangement invited guests to partake of the fire’s warmth. Camillus and Jauffre followed him without hesitation, but Baurus eyed me thoughtfully. After a moment, he nodded and trailed after the others as well.

I turned back to Calidia and Gwinas. This time Calidia’s expression as she regarded me was less distant, yet more curious. Gwinas’s gaze moved from Martin Septim’s progress across the lobby back to me, taking in my Dragonscale armor.

“Gwinas, am I right in thinking you are now occupying the rooms Calidia spoke of?” I kept my voice gentle to avoid rattling the scholar’s already shaken nerves. He swallowed visibly and nodded. “I hate to do this to you of all people, especially after you’ve been so helpful,” I continued. “If not for your help, that man would not be here today, wearing the Amulet of Kings he inherited from his father.”

Gwinas blinked at me in confusion. I smiled and reached out to his shoulder in a gentle grip. It steadied him, and he managed to breathe. “H- how?” he stammered.

“First, when you gave me that book and the note from the Sponsor,” I kept my tone soft. “And second when we talked about daedric shrines. Someday, after the Dragonfires are lit and that man is seated on the Ruby Throne, I’ll tell you the details.”

The Bosmer’s gaze drifted across the lobby to regard Martin Septim, now seated comfortably before the fire. Camillus dwarfed the easy chair opposite him, and Jauffre leaned forward to pour purple fluid into chased silver goblets on the table between them. Captain Baurus and my two Dragonguard brothers stood at vigilant ease between the seated figures and the rest of the lobby.

“Gwinas,” I drew his attention back to me. “You have a chance to be of invaluable help a third time. Let Martin Septim, the last son of Emperor Uriel Septim, occupy the rooms you have now. I will be happy to help you move your belongings to another room.” I glanced at Calidia. “There may be more arrivals soon, from the provinces as well as the counties of Cyrodiil. I’d like to see you settled before things start to get busy.”

Calidia blanched at my words. I thought I could hear her thoughts. What? But the Elder Council isn’t in session! All of them? Where shall I put everyone? Do I even have enough beds?

“This Martin Septim is indeed the heir to the Throne?” The Bosmer drew my attention back to him. I nodded. “You serve him then?” Again I inclined my head. “Why do you serve him?”

I straightened up and dropped my hand from Gwinas’s shoulder. “In the beginning, I served him because Emperor Uriel asked it of me before he died,” I spoke softly into the silence between us. “Then I began serving him because I know,” I put my right hand over my heart, just above where the Dragon lived in my belly, “I know that this man is our salvation. He has the Dragonblood in him.”

For several long moments we regarded each other silently. Then Gwinas took a shaky breath. His spine straightened as he met my gaze steadily. “No need to help me, Julian,” he said bravely. “I will hire some help to move my things. The King and Queen has very nice rooms that will do me nicely for the time being.” He turned to Calidia and set his hands on the counter decisively. “I would like to settle my bill with you before I leave, Augusta.”

She laid one hand over his and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t worry about it right now. Go gather your things. I’ll send the bill over to you later.” Gwinas opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head firmly. “Later.”

I followed after the small Bosmer as he headed for the stairs just past Martin Septim. I caught up to him just as he reached the Dragonguard. “Just a moment, Gwinas,” I stopped him, then turned to Martin nearby. “Sire, I’d like you to meet someone I’ve told you about before. This is Gwinas, of Valenwood. He has been of assistance to me, and has generously agreed to give up his rooms to you.”

Martin rose to his feet and smiled at the flustered Bosmer. “Of course, I remember you telling me of his aid, Julian. Gwinas, some day soon you will learn just how invaluable you have been to the cause of the Empire. For now, please accept my gratitude.” He put his hands together in front of him and bowed, as a priest of Akatosh bestowing a blessing.

Gwinas gave an excellent presentation of a courtier’s bow as I had seen it performed on stage in mummer’s shows, one foot pointed forward from beneath his red silk robes, one arm crooked in front of his waist and the other arm swept to the side, his torso bent forward and face aimed down. “It is my honor, Sire, to be of assistance, however meager it may be.”

“Not meager at all, Gwinas, not meager at all.” Martin’s gaze gleamed as Gwinas glanced up. “We will speak again soon, I am certain of it.”