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#Post#: 2114--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web (R)
By: Elisabeth Hollow Date: May 6, 2014, 6:51 am
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Loved it :)
#Post#: 2912--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web (R)
By: Callidus Thorn Date: May 20, 2014, 3:08 am
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:o
McB's part of the Mythic Dawn!
Heehee ;D
Chapter 1 Part 4
By the time Tarvyn crawled out of the sewers, spattered with
filth and goblin blood, night had fallen. Before him stretched
Lake Rumare, its dark reflection of the night sky crazed by the
rippling waters, as if the stars themselves shivered at the
Emperor's death. Tarvyn looked out across for a long moment,
savouring the first view of freedom he'd had in days. Then his
thoughts turned to his task. Swimming the lake was out of the
question. Tarvyn was a weak swimmer, and if there were anything
akin to slaughterfish in the water, he'd have a hard time seeing
them at night. And then there was the evening chill to consider.
Tarvyn didn't want to find out how cold that water was.
Instead he hugged the shoreline, never straying more than two or
three strides from the lake, and made his way around the City
Isle. He moved in short spurts, dashing forward a few strides
before falling into a crouch, bow in hand, alert for any sign
he'd been spotted. Nothing saw him but mudcrabs, and Tarvyn
laughed whenever they started moving towards him. Vvardenfell
had mudcrabs that could tear your leg off if given the chance,
these Cyrodiilic creatures were pitiful by comparison. Though
after torching one with a couple of flares he conceded that the
Cyrodiilic variety were tastier than the ones back home.
Somewhere on the northern side of City Isle he found a wooden
bridge across the lake, and, after crossing, continued heading
what he believed to be west. He remained as close to the lake as
possible, still moving in the same pattern of dashes and halts.
Each time he strained his ears for signs of alarm, and each time
heard naught but the wind, insects, and the gentle music of the
lake.
After a time the vast bridge that led to the Imperial City
became visible against the night sky, as much through the stars
it blocked out as the braziers that burned on it, and Tavyn
moved with more confidence knowing that he was headed in the
right direction. The shoreline turned towards the bridge, and
Tarvyn continued to follow it, hoping it would bring him close
enough to the road that he might be able to spot a road sign.
Soon after a flickering light came into view, which revealed
itself to be carried by a Legionnaire on horseback as it drew
nearer. Tarvyn dropped into a crouch, hoping to avoid being seen
by the patrolling soldier. The last thing he needed right now
was some Legionnaire asking too many questions. If anyone found
out he had the Amulet of Kings, the Legion would have him back
in a cell so fast his feet wouldn't touch the ground.
As the Legionnaire drew nearer, following his patrol route along
the road, Tarvyn dropped even lower, stretched out on his belly
to provide as low a profile as possible. So intent was Tarvyn on
the Legionnaire he almost didn't see the signpost illuminated by
torchlight. He was too far away to read it, but as soon as the
Legionnaire was out of sight Tarvyn was on his feet again,
creeping over to the signpost. It was difficult to read by
starlight, but one of the arms pointed in the direction Baurus
had described, or so Tarvyn thought. A few moments of close
study confirmed it, and Tarvyn darted back off the road.
He moved far enough away to be out of sight of anyone on the
road, but kept close enough that he could find it easily. He
mimicked the path as best he could, creeping back into view of
the road occasionally to gauge its direction. It was hard going,
trying to remain stealthy as he struggled through tall grass,
skirted wild-growing bushes and even a few times climbed over
the trunks of fallen trees. Tarvyn was no woodsman, and night
was no time to learn. Even animals were a danger to Tarvyn, as
more than a few times he was forced to draw his bow to defend
himself from berserk rats or wolves. Each fight made keeping
track of the road harder, and he once lost it completely,
rediscovering it again only through luck.
Last Seed 28
It was shortly after dawn that he reached Weynon Priory, with
not one person having seen him since he left Baurus. He made his
way inside, and after asking one of the monks about Jauffre,
headed upstairs. Despite the early hour, Jauffre was already sat
behind a desk, with another chair placed before it, going
through a small stack of papers. He glanced up at Tarvyn and
sneered, though it lasted only a moment, as if he'd forgotten he
was a monk. Without saying anything, Tarvyn reached into a belt
pouch he'd taken from one of the Emperor's attackers and drew
out the Amulet of Kings, placing it on the desk. Jauffre's face
ran through a gamut of expressions; from astonishment to outrage
before settling on stunned fascination. “Who are you? And how
did you come by the Amulet of Kings?”
Tarvyn sat down, grateful to be off his feet for a time. “ My
name is Tarvyn Dralor. The Emperor gave me the Amulet, moments
before he was murdered.”
The blood drained from Jauffre's face, and for a moment Tarvyn
thought he was going to collapse at his desk. His hands shook
briefly, and Tarvyn could see the strain in the monk's features
as he fought to master himself. When he spoke his voice was
thick with emotion held barely in check. “Then the enemy have
succeeded, damn their hides. Tell me what happened, all of it.”
“First, I must explain why I was in that cell. It was not by
chance. I was meant to be there, though I do not yet know why.”
Tarvyn told Jauffre everything; his reason for leaving
Vvardenfell, the murder he committed upon arrival, and Baurus'
tale of the Emperor's Guard in the Imperial City. One of the
monks brought up a tray of breakfast for the two of them, cups
of water with slices of cold meat and bread. Jauffre ate none of
it, but Tarvyn ate ravenously. After days in prison even such
simple fare was like a banquet for him. Jauffre's expression
darkened as Tarvyn told him of the death of Captain Renault,
and Glenroy's heroic end. As he spoke of the Emperor's murder,
Jauffre looked as though he was torn between nausea and despair,
only for the two to be swallowed by grim resolve.
“Then all is not yet lost. As long as one Septim lives, there is
still hope. And for the moment, we hold the advantage, tenuous
though it may be. Nearly a score of my best may be dead, but
from what you've told me the enemy may well have lost hundreds.
I'll have a force of Blades sent to retrieve the heir before
sunset. Speed may yet save us all, if they need to rebuild their
numbers.” Jauffre tossed Tarvyn a key from a pocket in his
robes. “This key opens the chest over there, supplies I keep for
travelling agents. Take what you will, I'll also see that you're
pardoned. I'll let you know when I have need of you.”
Tarvyn was moving towards the chest before Jauffre had finished
speaking, but pulled up short. “Have need of me? My debt to the
Empire is repaid, by the Emperor's own word.”
Jauffre's expression grew colder, and Tarvyn had to fight down a
shiver. This was no feeble old man sat across from him. Though
age had taken it's toll, at heart Jauffre was still a warrior.
Tarvyn could hear the steel in his voice, and see the fire in
his eyes. And from the way Jauffre spoke, Tarvyn suspected that
if you were to cut his heart in two, you'd find the word 'Duty'
carved through it. Jauffre's next words seemed to prove Tarvyn
right.
“You've paid off one debt, Tarvyn, but what of the others? You
took the life of a Legionnaire, do you not owe the Empire for
that? And if delivering the Amulet of Kings repaid the debt that
brought you to Cyrodiil, do you not owe the Empire for the
pardon you're receiving? Two lives you now owe the Empire, one
you have taken, and one you have been given. In time, you shall
repay both. You would not be the first to aid the Blades under
such circumstances. More than a few men and women have joined
the Legion rather than face the hangman, and gone on to become
Blades. I myself was once given that same choice, by the Emperor
himself.”
Tarvyn could hardly believe his ears. The Grandmaster of the
Blades had once been sentenced to execution? Before Tarvyn could
ask, Jauffre spoke again, “Take what you will, Tarvyn, and
leave. There is much I must do. In time you might hear from me.
If you receive a letter, speaking of repaying a debt, then come
here as soon as you can. Until then, act as you will, but do not
leave Cyrodiil, or your pardon will be forfeit.”
Tarvyn grimaced, but did not argue the point. The Morag Tong
instilled in its members a sense of honour, and though Tarvyn's
was a little more twisted than most, it was still present. He
nodded his acceptance and opened the chest, finding a surprising
array of equipment within. He replaced his old iron bow with a
steel one, and swapped out his cracked leathers for a new set.
He also took as many potions and scrolls as the chest held,
intending to sell what he couldn't use. Before donning his new
armour he went outside and poured a few buckets of well water
over himself, washing away most of the filth.
Tarvyn left the Priory, running the events of the last day
through his mind. The debt he felt owed had been repaid, but
Jauffre had had a point. To repay the debt that brought him
here, new debts had been incurred, debts that trapped him in
Cyrodiil, at least for the moment. Was Mephala simply toying
with him? Was she a manic spider in a crazed web, watching
Tarvyn dance as she tugged at the strands of the web? Was there
some purpose to her making him further indebted to the Empire,
when some mysterious force assailed it? What cause could Mephala
have to place him beside the Emperor, in the hour of his death?
Tarvyn shook his head and continued on the road to Chorrol.
Trying to guess the designs of the Webspinner was a sure path to
the Madgod's side.
This puts Tarvyn's story to rest for a short while: the
narrative demands a shift in focus, for a brief mini-series.
Next time: The Fall of Kvatch
#Post#: 2936--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web (R)
By: Elisabeth Hollow Date: May 20, 2014, 11:04 am
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One debt traded for another. Of course.
I'm loving this!
#Post#: 2996--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web (R)
By: McBadgere Date: May 22, 2014, 12:10 am
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Ooooh, nicely played, Thorny-Boy!!...
I like the...Wait for it...Steel you give to the head of the
Blades... ;) ...
Absolutely brilliantly done there...
I loved the way Tarvyn kept to the road, but in the shadows of
it...Excellent!...
Fair dues...Proper excellent stuff!...
Nice one!!...
*Applauds heartily*...
#Post#: 3233--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web (R)
By: Callidus Thorn Date: May 28, 2014, 2:06 am
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Thanks y'all
Anyway, I'm afraid I have to put this on hold for a while while
I reevaluate a few things. I'm running into issues on pretty
much every level, and need to work out some ways through or
around them.
#Post#: 3320--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web (R)
By: McBadgere Date: May 30, 2014, 7:01 am
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Well, from what you said in the music thread, I'm guessing that
it's all behind you now... :D ...
Chilling out is always the best way...
Hope you can get some out soon...
*Applauds anyways*...
#Post#: 3321--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web (R)
By: Callidus Thorn Date: May 30, 2014, 7:08 am
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[quote author=McBadgere link=topic=20.msg3320#msg3320
date=1401451307]
Well, from what you said in the music thread, I'm guessing that
it's all behind you now... :D ...
Chilling out is always the best way...
Hope you can get some out soon...
*Applauds anyways*...
[/quote]
Well, my solution to my current issue has been a restart, giving
Tarvyn a more focused build. I'd pretty much mashed two
character concepts together when I made him, spreading him way
too thin. I started him up this morning, and I've gotten him as
far as what I've posted, but beyond the Fall of Kvatch I've got
nothing I'll be able to post for a probably a couple of weeks.
The change in class setup means a lot of what I've written so
far doesn't fit properly anymore, though I'm hanging onto it to
use what I can.
Now that I've got the problem addressed, I'm working on
adjusting what I've already posted, then getting back to the
Fall of Kvatch.
#Post#: 3322--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web (R)
By: McBadgere Date: May 30, 2014, 7:15 am
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Well, for what it's worth...Keep all the Blades stuff, that's
for sure...That is probably the best version of the Blades story
I've read...And the Jauffre stuff rocked like a bastard...So,
please, as much as I have any sway in these matters... :D
...Please keep the Blades stuff intact... ;D ...
#Post#: 4954--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web (R)
By: Callidus Thorn Date: August 22, 2014, 4:37 pm
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So here's the next part, and I feel I should stress a few
things: All the previous parts were written, then revised and
edited two or three times, often changing substantially with the
second draft. This part has not been through this process,
because the damn thing's been fighting me all week, and frankly,
I'll be glad to be done with it. So it's rough, it's kind of
rushed, and I'm certain it needs some more work, but if I didn't
get it out of the way I'd never get anywhere.
Kvatch
As the sun gave up its struggle against the horizon, and night
began to coil its shadowy arms around Kvatch, a weary Captain
Matius made his way back to the barracks. It had been a long
day, at the end of an even longer week, which had dropped
several unwelcome mysteries on him. First; the murders of the
Aurilies, a Breton couple found dead in their homes four days
ago. Then there was the matter of Crassius Ancrus, found dead at
the bottom of the stairs in his home, an empty bottle of
Cyrodiilic Brandy beside him. Yet all of his friends were
adamant that not only did Crassius never drink, but he didn't
even keep alcohol in for guests. And finally, there was
Alusannah, a Redguard woman who ran a popular bookshop,
apparently the victim of an attempted mugging that went wrong.
His thoughts were brought to a halt as an unnatural sound tore
through the air. Something partway between a scream of agony and
the sound of tearing cloth, something that ran fingers of fear
up and down his spine without him understanding why. A wave of
heat rippled across the city, and veins of crimson twisted the
night sky, bathing the city in a bloody red light. Sweat pricked
his brow even as he turned, and his mind reeled at what he saw.
Towering over the city, nearly as high again as the wall, and as
wide as the city gate itself, was what looked like a curtain of
fire. Girded with dark stone columns shot through with crimson
traceries, the flames flickered and wept energy, like pus from a
wound. Even from where he was, halfway across the city, he could
feel the heat from it as if he stood before a blacksmith's
forge, and just looking at it turned his stomach. Weariness
forgotten, he raced across the city towards the gate, joined by
more and more guards, fighting against the tide of civilians
fleeing towards them.
As he arrived he heard the voice of his second, Captain Calidia,
directing the archers from atop the wall. With legs of lead he
scaled the nearest fortification ladder to the battlements.
Without the wall shielding him the full force of the inferno
washed over him, the sheer heat rolling from it forcing his eyes
closed. “It's a portal! That Nine-damned thing is a bloody
portal.” He heard Calidia shout at him, between directing
volleys from the archers. Forcing his eyes open, he looked out
from the wall, and had to cling to the battlements to keep
himself from falling as the sight left him weak at the knees.
The portal stood on the open ground before the city, and before
it stood an ever-growing horde of daedra. Some of them, tall and
humanoid, armoured in black plate edged in crimson, formed up in
disciplined ranks. Other daedra; lizard-like creatures large and
small, sorcerous wretches that hurled fire at the wall,
unarmoured figures wielding heavy weapons with ease, and
monstrous blendings of woman and spider, formed in loose
clusters. Those with great-weapons were almost as ordered as the
ranks of armoured figures, while the rest were marshalled by
more of those same figures, wielding barbed lashes. And behind
them all, the portal, through which was now being dragged some
vast and arcane engine, a siege weapon of some sort. Captain
Matius felt an icy current of fear run through him, setting his
heart racing, and his grip on the stone tightened until he
wondered if it might crumble beneath his fingers.
Then a voice came to him, echoing across time, from when he had
been promoted to Captain: A leader must not show weakness, he
must be as stone, the foundation from which others draw
strength. That was what you were, and that is what you will be
again. Though the words had been said a decade and more ago, he
heard them as clearly as if they were freshly spoken, and with
them came renewed resolve. His fingers eased their grip on the
stone, his knees regained their strength, and he buried his fear
deep inside himself, where those under his command could not see
it.
“Captain Calidia, stay with the archers. Take down as many of
those bastards as possible, and do what you can to stop that
siege engine.” Not waiting for her response he raced back down
the ladder, grabbing the first guards he found. “Dahlia. Get to
the Mages Guild, tell them I want every mage who can hurl a
lightning bolt on the wall, and everyone who can wield a weapon
down here with me. And tell them to bring any healers they have
too, we'll need them. Astius. Get to the Fighters Guild, we're
going to need every fighter we have.” The two raced off towards
the Guildhalls, and he turned his attention to the others
gathered before the gates.
He saw the fear in their eyes, magnified by the crimson light
that tainted everything, but he had nothing to say. Some men
lead by words, others by example. Matius was one of the latter.
He had stood when others had lost their nerve, fought when it
had been deemed hopeless, and inspired others by doing so.
Rousing speeches to give heart to those under his command were
as unknown to him as the portal before his city. But he knew he
had to say something, so settled for what little he knew,
raising his voice to be heard over the noise of bowstrings from
above. “The daedra are attacking the city, an army of them has
come from that portal. I don't know why, I don't know how, but
those questions don't matter. What matters is that we deny them,
and we will deny them.”
Astius came jogging back to Matius, notably lacking in
reinforcements. “I'm sorry Captain, but the Fighters Guild has
been celebrating the anniversary of their branch being founded.
Most of them have been drinking since mid-afternoon.”
“How drunk are they?”
“Well, if we propped them up and gave them a torch they could
probably belch out a few fireballs, or give them an hour and a
torch and they could rain fire from the battlements, the men
anyway.” Despite the situation, Astius couldn't help letting his
usual levity slip through. The fact that three of the women (and
two of the men) had been dancing on the tables in varying states
of undress hadn't helped matters.
He was spared from having to reply by the arrival of the mages,
half of them racing up the ladders to join the archers, the rest
coming to a halt before him. He recognised the three at the
front; Arnand LaRouche, a Breton, Norionil, an Altmer, and Miara
Felas, a Dunmer. All were aspiring Battlemages, who trained
regularly with the guards. Each of them was clad in steel
armour, wielding a warhammer, a battleaxe, and a claymore,
respectively. Behind them were three robed figures: an Altmer,
an Imperial, and another Breton, each wielding smaller, lighter
weapons than the Battlemages. Captain Matius guessed them to be
the healers.
“Hail, Captain Matius! The Mages Guild stands ready to aid you.”
Arnand shouted, even as the crackle of lightning bolts began to
accompany the sounds of archery. “What's the situation?”
“Daedra have opened some manner of portal before the city gates.
A horde of them has assembled, and they're bringing through some
form of siege engine.”
“A portal? That's impossible.” Norionil butted in, his
expression a mixture of anxiety and curiosity.
“Impossible or not, it's bloody well happening. Once that siege
engine starts working on the gates, I want them reinforced with
shield spells. The longer we can keep them out, the more the
archers can thin their ranks. When they break the gates it's
going to be bloody.”
“But-”
Captain Calidia's shout cut him short. “Captain Matius! The
Daedra are retreating!” Matius wasted no time in joining her at
the battlements, arriving just in time to see the siege engine
disappear back into the portal. The archers and mages continued
to fire on the retreating Daedra, though Matius could see how
little effect they'd had. Perhaps one in thirty of the Daedra
lay dead between the gate and the portal, though many of those
retreating were visibly wounded by arrow or spell.
“Something isn't right” He turned towards the voice, finding the
statuesque figure of Sigrid, head of the Kvatch chapter of the
Mages guild, standing beside him. A detached part of Captain
Matius wondered how her hair could be so artfully arranged at
this time of night, and why it was that mages seldom dressed
appropriately for battle. She was looking out, as he had been,
watching the retreating daedra, the confusion clear to see on
her face.
“Norionil already told me that opening a portal like that
shouldn't be possible”
“It's not that. Those armoured daedra down there, the ones
herding the others through the portal, they're Dremora.. They're
a warrior people, reputed to be honourable, even though most of
them worship Mehrunes Dagon. To assemble in such numbers, only
to retreat without even launching an attack, would bring
dishonour on their leaders. Not to mention enraging Mehrunes
Dagon.”
“So why would they retreat? They're not going to be able to
catch us off guard, now that we know they can open portals like
that. Why waste an advantage like that just to flee without
attacking?”
Sigrid turned to answer him, but as she opened her mouth a
chorus of hideous screams sang out behind them. Terror
crystallised in their stomachs as they turned, both knowing what
they would see, but unable to ignore it. As they looked out
across the city, the sky turned crimson once more, and a
half-dozen lesser portals tore their way up from the ground.
From them emerged the same hordes of Daedra that moments before
had stood before the city, and the night air grew thick with
screams of horror and cold, bestial laughter...
#Post#: 5713--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tarvyn Dralor: Caught in the Web (R)
By: Callidus Thorn Date: October 21, 2014, 4:09 am
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Well, I'd originally planned to bounce over to Tarvyn for a
while, but following some advice in another thread I decided to
cut it. I was having trouble getting into it enough to write,
and it's pretty much a sideshow anyway, but the story will shift
back to Tarvyn for the next part.
For now, other characters hold the spotlight...
Kvatch, the fourth day after The Fall
Captain Matius awoke with a groan, besieged by the aches
sleeping in his armour left him with. It was the fourth day
since Kvatch had fallen, and he had yet to remove his armour.
None of his command had, unless it was in need of repairs. More
than one of the camp's defenders wore ill-fitting armour, taken
from a fallen comrade and hastily repaired, because their own
was too damaged and the smith too busy. The hard ground and thin
bedroll only made the aches worse.
He sat up, only to choke down a cry of agony and fall back,
clutching at his ribs where a Dremora mace had broken them three
days previous. Only one healer had survived The Fall, and she
had more than she could handle with those more seriously
wounded, so the bones were only half-healed. As he fought back
the pain he felt a nagging sense of wrongness, but between the
aches and pains of waking and the lingering grasp of sleep, he
couldn't work out what was behind it.
Managing to get to his feet on his second attempt, he left his
tent and made his way back to the hasty fortifications, still
being added to whenever possible. More than once, he noted the
survivors looking even more grim than the day before, and the
feeling of wrongness once more assaulted him. He was still
trying to figure out what was different when he reached the
plateau, where Leond Aerius, his second in command, was waiting
to be relieved.
“Something's wrong, Leond, something's different.”
Leond looked at him for a moment, his expression somewhere
between shock and sorrow. “Aye Captain. It's the screaming. It's
stopped.”
Matius almost reeled in shock. How could he have failed to
notice something so obvious? Now he understood the looks of the
survivors, the resigned slump of the defenders' shoulders. He
nodded. “Then that means-” His voice broke, and he couldn't
force another word past the sudden lump in his throat. He knew
nobody had said it, that nobody wanted to say it, but that they
were all thinking it.
There were no more screams from inside the city, because there
was no-one left alive.
Weye, the same morning.
Baurus had never been so glad to leave the Imperial City. He had
spent most of the four days since the Emperor's death meeting
with various members of the Elder Council, in open meetings or
private audiences. Three days without an Emperor, and already
the Elder Council was paralysing itself, squabbling amongst
themselves over morsels of power and influence while Chancellor
Ocato tried to maintain order.
He was glad to be back in his armour too, freshly repaired, the
Legion armourers efforts were such that no trace of the damage
it had taken could be found. His Akaviri Katana and shield had
been similarly repaired, and though he was grateful for their
efforts, he felt a nagging sense of unease about his equipment.
That feeling only intensified as he reached the crossroads just
beyond the village, and before setting off towards Bruma, he
hesitated.
Could he return to Cloud Ruler Temple, sole survivor of the
Emperor's Guard? Would his brothers and sisters of the Blades
wonder at his survival, when more experienced Blades died? Would
they ask, in whispers behind his back, how the assassins had
known of the secret passage, unknown to any but the Blades? Did
he even have a place in the Order, having failed so?
He found neither answers to these questions, nor further time to
consider them. He heard the dull thunder of approaching riders,
and turned northwards to the sight of a score of riders, every
one of them a fellow Blade, bearing down on him. He recognised
the Breton woman leading them, Sabine Ernarde, who brought her
horse to a halt before him and dismounted. “Captain Baurus, I
have a message for you from the Grandmaster.” As she spoke she
handed him a roll of parchment, sealed with wax.
“Captain Baurus? I'm no Captain, Sabine.”
“You are now sir. Grandmaster Jauffre sent us out to find you.
He said further orders will come from you, after you've read the
message.”
Baurus looked at her for a long moment before turning his
attention to the scroll. The wax bore the Grandmaster's seal,
and showed no signs of having been tampered with. Breaking it,
he opened the rolled parchment and began reading.
Baurus,
Firstly, do not blame yourself for the Emperor's death. That
such a plot came to fruition makes it my failure, and that of
the late Spymaster, long before it is yours. Let the blame fall
on those who most deserve it, rather than those who did all they
could to prevent it. In my eyes you did not fail, nor did any of
the Emperor's Guards who gave their life that night.
Secondly, you did well in sending Tarvyn to me. The Emperor's
trust was well placed, as was yours in the Emperor. Tarvyn
served his role, and will likely be given another before the
end.
Finally, I must entrust you with a new task. The last heir to
the Septim line can be found at Kvatch. His name is Martin, you
will find him at the chapel of Akatosh, where he serves as a
priest. Bring him to me at the Priory as soon as you are able.
You are now Captain of the Emperor's Guard, and Sabine and those
with her are under your command.
Though the enemy scored a victory in assassinating the Emperor,
it cost them dearly. Our only hope lies in swift action, while
the enemy is weakened by their losses.
Baurus folded the parchment and tucked it inside his armour.
Sabine gestured to one of the Blades, who led over the riderless
horse that they'd brought with them. Baurus climbed into the
saddle, a little awkwardly, before turning to face his Blades.
He thought for a moment about how much to tell them, and decided
that if time was of import, then explanations could wait.
“We ride for Kvatch.”
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