Skyrim: A Sorcerer's Tale

Chapter 391: Chapter XI: The First Step Of An Enthusiastic Stroll



(General POV)

The Waterfront District was bustling as it did every day without pause, the constant trade required by the capital of a continental empire allowing for no end to the endless intake of resources, both basic and luxurious.

It was exactly within the middle of this wall of noise that a particular tavern was located, a seemingly seedy place on the outside but one of the more respected and renowned spots in the city in truth, the Hook's Nook, a place where visiting captains and lesser dignitaries almost inevitably ended up if they ever found themselves within the same district.

Upon one of its few balconies overlooking Lake Rumare sat a trio of people most would gawk at seeing together in one place, the dozen or so guards trying and failing to seem

inconspicuous in the nearby shadows and nooks making their level of influence quite plain to see, if not obvious to evaluate.

It was only through magic that the two men could even hear the woman as she began to speak "They are moving already." The words of one Varina Eswood, Countess of Blackwood needed no further elaboration as all three knew of the reason they had gathered.

"Do you have any idea where?" A blonde man of stocky build asked with a frown, the Count of Kvatch looking non too pleased about the newcomers' sudden and inevitable rise to power.

"Calm down Julian, you look like you are about to break the table." The Countess pretends to titter, much to her fellow's irritation "The Dragonborn left south yesterday, apparently His Majesty saw fit to not hold another grand performance to see her off."

"Quite." The third finally chimed in, the rotund Count of Chorrol seeming more amused than in any rush to share in his colleagues' worry or irritation "And I have just been told that Dagoth has been 'indisposed' for private reasons." He shakes his puffy cheeks at that "Terrible news that, I was very much looking forward to conversing with the chap."

The Countess rolls her eyes "Only you Vitellius."

"Not my fault you poor fellows keep overworrying about things." The fat man shrugs, his hand moving to deliver yet another cut of his meal without any input of his own "It was obvious to all of us that from the moment a Dragonborn appeared they would grow in influence, that it is happening this quickly merely shows Titus' decisiveness in the matter." He turns silent as he begins to chew his meal with an almost delicate care.

"And what of our plans you damn ogre?!" Count Julian snarls, earning some very hostile looks from Vitellius' guards but no so much as drawing a twitch from his fellow noble.

"Our plans?" Vitellius raises an eyebrow as he daintily wipes his mouth with a silken handkerchief "Need I remind you my boy, that my son is the centerpiece of said plans?"

"Your son who is also the child of Mede's bastard." Julian hisses.

Varina pinches the bridge of her nose and lets out a disappointed breath.

"Julian." Vitellius' jolly countenance does not shift for even a moment, his voice that of someone talking of the weather "The next time you dare call my beloved anything less than the epitome of a lady that she was, I will rip out your spine and feed it to you, are we understood?"

The younger man shivers uncontrollably before quickly catching himself and wordlessly nodding, beads of sweat flowing down his neck. Vitelius had a reputation for a reason.

"As I was saying." The fat Count continues as if he did not just threaten his fellow with a horrible death "My son may have a claim to the throne but no one, and I mean no one is stupid enough to support him over a divinely ordained savior of the world." He gives his two fellows a pointed look "I much prefer my boy grow grey and weak in peace and surrounded by family while inheriting my position than him waking up to a Morag Tong agent one morning." "Ah yes, them." Julian grits his teeth.

"Delightful fellows I tell you." Vitelius nods jovially "Say what you will about the Dunmer but they know how to get work done."

"So is that it?" Varina asks sounding somewhat defeated "We are to just give up?"

"Of course not my dear." The Count of Chorrol chuckles "We have no leg to stand on in claiming the throne, and that is fair enough, best have the divinely blessed to deal with the armies of elf and Daedra waiting in the near future. What we can do however is make her pay through the nose for our support."

His two colleagues immediately become interested, the smell of money in the air bearing its usual effect.

"We will of course need to balance our ambitions with caution." The fat man went on "It wouldn't do to make ourselves annoying enough to warrant removal like poor Marius is just about to feel on his wrinkly skin."

No one, not even their uninvited visitor, noticed the fat man's eyes light up with satisfaction as only he noticed the slightest rustling of cloth and a shift in the distant shadows, the expression disappearing just as swiftly as it came as he returned to his usually jovial mood and continued proposing his plan on how they could all profit from the upcoming changes.

(Reyvin's POV)

My hand flashes out from below my plain temporary robes just in time for a falcon familiar to land on my forearm, a small scroll folded on its leg quickly finding its way into my grip as the bird flew off back to its master.

I felt my eyebrows raise at the information held within "Did he not think he'd be watched, or did he want me to hear of this? Hmm..." The tiny scroll disintegrates as I send a wave of fire through it, already having memorized the whole thing.

Scorch shuffles from under my hood, his shrunken form peering down on me "Have you considered... fire?"

"No." I deadpan "I will just have him under extra watch in case of fuckery."n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"Your weakness disgusts me." Bird man scoffs and shuffles back into his newest nest.

Rolling my eyes, I focus on the sigh that was hidden behind a bend in the road, the great river of Niben I have been following for a while now leading to its inevitable end and my destination, the City That Spans The Waters, better known as Leyawiin.

Even from here I could see the great bridge in the middle of the city, the overly wide stone crossing filled to the brim with houses and shops and built far too shallow to allow for passage of anything save a riverboat, thus blocking any kind of sea trade from happening without the city taking its toll for literal millennia at this point.

"And to think the greedy little shits managed to make it stay to this very day." I mutter, part insulted part impressed by the sheer audacity of the act.

My mutterings seemed to be just a tad too loud as a mounted pair of guardsmen shifted their gazes to me as they passed "Greetings citizen." One of them nodded lightly while the other

just stared.

"A fair day to you, honored guardian." I incline my head "The roads are safe today, I trust?" "But of course." The man bearing the crest of the ivory stallion of Leyawiin puffs his chest out "The Leyawiin mounted cohorts never falter in their duties!"

"Most heartening to hear, honorable sir." I smile falsely.

The other man, an older one by the look of him, finally speaks "What is your business in the city, traveler?"

"I return from visiting family in Bravil, sir." I lie as easily as breathing "The tolls upon the riverboats were too great due to the celebrations in the capital so I felt walking the wiser choice, even if it would take me a week more than I'd prefer."

"Hmmm." The older man stares at me for a while longer before accepting my words and nodding at his fellow "Very well then, keep your nose clean while in the city and keep away from the temple district. It has been closed off for now and the penalties for breaking the rule

are... severe."

"I thank you for the generous warning." I bow deeply and the two move along "The temple district, eh? I do oh so wonder what could be happening there~"

It took me about an hour more to reach the city, each step bringing me deeper and deeper into the odd mix of humid swamp and mediterranean air that was unique to the Topal Bay and the Niben's swampy estuary.

The Green Road connecting the City Isle with the Free City of the south ended at the gates, large and imposing stone things all of which were marked with the ivory stallion of the Caro dynasty... or they were supposed to be at least.

Needless to say the stallion looked just a bit off, a bit too gold on some of the banners in fact. The guards at the gates did not bother me overmuch, letting me in after only a cursory inspection and questioning about my reason for visiting. I was after all just a Dunmer dressed in what one would usually take for middle class craftsman's clothing, and no one was asinine enough to question every traveler passing through one of the greatest trade cities on the

continent.

They did warn me not to go to the temple district again, revealing rumors of some apparent crime happening there after a bit of careful prodding and indirect questioning. Now I could understand not wanting people to wander about where you don't want them to

but such blatant attempts at ensuring no one walked in would only draw attention from the same people you were trying to ward off in the first place.

Oh it would definitely work on the normal populace, no one wants to challenge the guards about such things, especially down here in the predominantly secular-minded south where not many were nearly as devout as some of the more reluctant Nords I've met in Skyrim.

Asking about quickly netted me the fact that it was more of a recent thing, happened mere days ago in fact and not even the priests were allowed within ever since. An unsustainable state of affairs but not one which could not be used for nefarious deeds.

The city was thankfully almost as metropolitan as the Imperial City itself, housing integrated Argonian, Khajiit, and even a smaller Dunmer minority, which allowed me to blend in perfectly and begin ever so slowly constructing an image of what happened.

An Argonian fisher heard a noise during the early morning.

A Khajiit merchant saw a group of robed individuals running to the Temple District before the

sun rose.

A fellow Dunmer felt the rays of the sun being particularly harsh on the evening of that day. And on and on it went, every answer leading to a new piece of the increasingly obvious puzzle that was some form of Meridian ritual meant to accomplish something within the city. Realizing that I would not get more without investigating myself, I turned the questioning toward the city's rulership and oh boy did it raise some flags! The Council of Legates, which had been either ruling the city outright at best or advising the ruler at worst for millennia had all found themselves suddenly facing criminal charges and many of their family members begun to disappear.

Such was the worrying frequency of the misfortune that the populace began to think the lot of them were cursed by a particularly vengeful Daedra, some of the more... creative residents going so far as to say they made a deal with Clavicus Vile and got their just deserts in turn.

As for the Count? Well the old man was said to be a generally pleasant man throughout most of his life but the sudden invasion of the Dominion and their insultingly prompt conquest of

his city and the slaying of his father had changed him, twisted him into something he was not or so a fortune telling cat man told me anyway.

To make a long story slightly less long, the man was a reclusive nutcase, uncaring for either the running of his city or doing much of anything save researching dusty tomes and blustering whenever someone said anything against him.

He had been relying on the Council of Legates to do his job for him but something had changed recently, the moment he returned from the quarterly meeting of the Elder Council in fact, and in the few instances of people noticing him he seemed far more determined than

ever before.

Most suspected he was commended by the Emperor or something else of equal mundanity. My money was on divine inspiration, and not of the fun kind.

Satisfied with my rumor gathering, I soon found myself avoiding the guards who had heard of my curiosity, weaving through the many narrow and smelly alleys of the city toward a particular inn, one housing the High Priest of Zenithar who had just been pinged as under

attack to my sight.

That wouldn't do at all.

The High Hrothgar Snow Troll

Demands his unreasonably high stone toll

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