bulbaquil
...is not Sjadbek, he just runs him.
Chapter 6 is coming soon! Like, tomorrow!
I approve of this. To motivate you, I have a secret reward that I won't reveal until the chapter's published. (And I don't mean my own chapter 3, either
)
Kathodos: A Return of Exiles
- Thread starter Docta Corvina
- Start date
I approve of this. To motivate you, I have a secret reward that I won't reveal until the chapter's published. (And I don't mean my own chapter 3, either
)Docta Corvina
Well-Known Member
I approve of this. To motivate you, I have a secret reward that I won't reveal until the chapter's published. (And I don't mean my own chapter 3, either
Hmm, a secret reward, eh? I'm intrigued.
Docta Corvina
Well-Known Member
Chapter 6
The road to Solitude was thankfully not a long one from Dragon Bridge. As the gentle wind began to blow cooler and with a hint of brine, she knew the coast below the marvelous city was close. She had heard tell of the capital’s antique beauty and she eagerly anticipated the sights. Haafingar was the only hold in which she had not yet attended to Guild business and she was pleased to have the chance to see it now. The path, rocky and verdant on either side, sloped upward and grew ever more promising while horse and rider continued their trek. Maro's words continued to repeat themselves in her mind, time passing with each sentence slowed down and dissected. In spite of her best efforts, she could not decipher the meanings to the nervous shifts of glances and ominous pauses that she had witnessed since even before leaving Cyrodiil. The people of Cheydinhal were ever wary of some unseen terror that continued to lie in wait there. And as such, she expected that behavior from them. But the guards and soldiers and officers in the Imperial City...when she saw their eyes fall hollow with distant shock and gripping fear, she found herself duly unsettled. And still with no answers. Her thoughts left her drifting through the last legs of her short journey to Solitude, not even noticing the small farm that greeted her before the main gates. The neighs and whinnies of penned ponies jolted her from her trance and she returned her focus to the grand city ahead.
Kallias hitched, she hurriedly made her way to the city gates. A pair of guards traced her sprightly steps and she thought she heard one muttering under his breath to the other, who merely snickered in response. But she just pressed on, ignoring them. Upon entering the city, a flood of echoes burst forth - sights, sounds and smells that forthwith brought the young Breton back to the Imperial City. The memories sprang from the sturdy and lovely architecture, resounded in the crowd’s low murmur and rode the sweet incense on the wind. Peering at the skyline, she grinned at the reminders of a home that had until now seemed all too far away. The sea breeze found her again and she breathed it in deep. Warmth of that collective fondness washed over her.
But the pleasantness was short-lived as the crowd's murmur swiftly turned into a cacophony of shouts and whistles. As she stepped further into Solitude proper, she saw residents flock to the right. Penelope could see a raised area and upon it, a plain-clothed man in binds and his death-bringer. A dark-haired, bearded man in Legion garb stood off to the side. She could tell that the two, the officer and the condemned, were speaking. She could not, however, make out their words amid the hollers of the audience. When the soldier stepped back and the executioner approached, it all seemed as though time had suddenly slowed - like she was watching it all unfold underwater. Even the noise of the spectators was brought to a much lower roar with every heavy step of the axe man.
She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away as the weapon came down upon the man's yielding neck. Even from where she stood, she could clearly hear the ghastly wet sound of separation and the thump and thud of a rolling head. Her stomach turned. As she slowly, warily, returned her gaze to the stage and beheld the gruesome aftermath, she shook her own head solemnly. Mumblings amid the crowd suggested that the condemned had betrayed Skyrim and the Empire, that he was a guard who had knowingly opened the gates twice for Ulfric the renegade, the great traitor. And who had allowed him to escape, King Torygg's blood still wet on his clothes and skin. A few others seemed disturbed and deeply lamenting of what had just taken place, decrying it as a miscarriage of justice. A stranger to not only the city but the land at large, the young Breton herself was torn. No doubt that if the accusatory mutterings were true, she could see a place for judgment. Yet the sad whispers about his young niece and his heartbroken sister chilled her to the core. Regardless of whether the man was guilty of the specific charges, it did not lessen the tragedy.
Not only that, but she was also reminded of her own brush with the executioner's block - back when she first entered Skyrim and was caught trying to head north from Cheydinhal toward Riften. No matter what, the Imperial soldiers who had arrested her would hear nothing of her pleading and assertion of her family name. The girl was innocent. But it mattered not. She had desperately hoped that perhaps one or more of the Legion's officers would have recognized her from Cyrodiil. What she had always realized intellectually but did not fully appreciate until those moments was how diverse the Legion truly was - and that many of its soldiers in Skyrim were in fact Nords and Redguards who had never set foot in her home province and would not have had any familiarity with her or her father's name. She still recalled her long ride on the cart to Helgen. And even now, it seemed surreal to her that she shared that cart with the most wanted criminal in the land. I'll certainly have some real tales to tell when I finally get back home.
A brush of her shoulder suddenly released her from her recollections, and she turned to see who was responsible. A man, a youngish Imperial from the looks of him, faced her, smiling broadly. Having just witnessed the grisly event, she wondered how he could appear so strangely chipper.
“Oh, I’m sorry, excuse me. I didn’t, uh, see you there, my dear.” She knew that tone all too well, that pretense of folly. It was a favorite tactic of merchants in Cyrodiil, particularly the Imperial City. It was a slyer alternative to garishly hawking wares. It had never impressed her much, and she was not afraid of letting that skepticism show.
“Oh? Well, I’ll try to be more noticeable next time.” As she turned to take her leave, the Imperial also made clear that he was not yet finished. Nowhere near so. And he lightly took hold of the same shoulder he had “accidentally” bumped a few moments earlier. She did not appreciate the touch, but silently endured it all the same.
“Ha, touché, touché. So, what is a Breton doing in our fair city? Even better question might be: what is the nature of said Breton’s lodging here in Solitude?”
“I beg your pardon? I fail to see how that’s any of your business.”
“Well, actually, it is quite literally my business. Erm, well, my father’s... But damnit, it will be mine one day!”
Penelope’s wait for a revelation gave way only to uncomfortable silence, which she took upon herself to break after several seconds.
“…Ssssoooo….you’re an innkeeper? At least I hope that’s the case.”
“Indeed, I am! Well, again, not technically, completely, officially…pfft! Nevermind. Point is, my family runs not only the best inn here in Solitude, but the only inn in Solitude! The Winking Skeever!” He gestured toward the charming building across the way. Penelope was slightly amused by the skeever on the inn’s hanging shield.
“Ah, the ‘Winking Skeever’, indeed. Looks like a lovely place. So very…” Her eyes darted back to the executioner’s stage, which coincidentally found itself across from the inn. “Convenient.”
“Indeed, we are! So! Will you be staying with me - er, us – while here? We’ve got warm beds available and plenty of ice cold mead. As much as you can handle.”
“I suppose, if I should find myself in need of overnight accommodations, your inn will do just fine, mister…uh…?”
“Vinius, Sorex Vinius.”
“Well, it’s been a pleasure, Sorex Vinius. I’ll be sure to come find you personally about a room later this evening.” As had long since become a reflex, she extended a hand for a firm, friendly shake. But instead of following up on that gesture, the man took her hand and bestowed it with a kiss. She almost rolled her eyes at the action, which was yet another part of the merchant’s “trade” back home. But, she just offered a small smile. She knew the value of grace.
“Please do.” He grinned, and was pleased to see her seized by new urgency.
“…Actually, there’s one more thing you might be able to help me with.” His grin widened, seeming all too eager for her to linger.
“Anything for you…”
“What?” Her eyes narrowed.
“Nothing.”
“Erm, so, do you know where I would, in theory, find General Tullius of the Legion?” Sorex’s grin melted away, his brow rapidly furrowing.
“Tullius, huh? What could you possibly want with him?” As soon as the Breton shot him a waspish glance in retort, the Imperial realized his latest misstep. And sighed.
“Alright, alright. He’d be up in Castle Dour.”
“Castle Dour?” Head tilted.
“You know, the really imposing fortress just over yonder.” He gestured to the dark stone structure that stretched the length of the city. She had already had some inkling that it was her target, but confirmation never hurt. She chuckled at the hint of impatience in his tone.
“Yes, yes, I see it. Right, somewhere in there then. Would you happen to know whereabouts inside said imposing fortress just over yonder?”
“Well, no…as I don’t make a habit of spending my free time there. But, if I had to guess, I’d say that one of the wings adjacent to the practice yard would be a good bet. Just ask directions, heh.”
“Hmpf. Well, thank you, Mr. Vinius. I may be seeing you again soon then.”
“Indeed, I do hope so.” He winked and strolled off, heading toward the open-air market. She watched him disappear into the slowly shuffling crowd. While grateful for the information, as well as the very enthusiastic promise of lodging, she still could not suppress a low growl in her throat.
No one could ever possibly appreciate how much she hated asking for directions.
After stopping at the marketplace to pick up a few various food items, as well as a couple of bottles of spiced wine, she briskly navigated the stone streets. Following the winding corridors and lofty structures, she eventually found her way to the practice yard that the innkeeper’s son had mentioned. The sounds of wood thrusting upon hide shields, deliberate steps and the measured praises of a watchful officer – the same one who had been at the execution, in fact – all had confirmed that she had moved in the right direction. She swelled with both pride and familiarity at the waving Legion colors set against the striking towers. The small collection of soldiers present for training gave her a few intrigued glances, but returned to their drills as she disappeared through the first door she found facing the courtyard.
The inside of the fortress was cool and musty, smelling vaguely of old books, leather and smoke from kindling fire pits; it felt every bit as archaic as it looked from the outside. Her footfall on the hard floor grew slower, though, until it stopped. Muffled voices resounding from every direction had been growing louder with each step and for the first time in a while – at least since the last time she had been confronted by Mercer Frey – she was profoundly nervous. Tullius was not the first general she ever had to interact with, nor would he be the last. It was not that she was intimidated by his rank. It was rather a sense of how much was at stake, how much was riding on his cooperation and amenability. She could not afford to have him wary of her. They both had been in Helgen and had seen the carnage there. But she had been a prisoner summarily condemned for treason. There was no telling what his reaction would be to her reappearance here now.
Drawing a deep breath and attempting to calm her pounding heart, she put one foot in front of the other and continued her march to the war room ahead. Sure enough, she found the silver-haired general alone and hunched over a table covered with a map and miscellaneous sheets of parchment. He did not even look up to acknowledge the visitor, only waited for her footsteps to cease before addressing her.
“Yes, what can I do for you?”
“I…I must request some information from you, sir. About one of the Legion’s officers who was sent to Skyrim some months ago.”
“Indeed? Which one would that be?” After her haunting conversation with Maro in Dragon Bridge, she had decided to be a bit more reserved with her words, in addition to her identity. If there truly was any kind of lingering danger, she had to be extremely cautious with her speech.
“Adrianus, of Cheydinhal. He…was killed here in Skyrim. But nothing more is known. I was told you might have more information.”
Tullius raised his eyes a bit from the table, still not meeting her glance but looking across the room in contemplation.
“Adrianus, eh? The name is familiar, but…can’t say I know anything about him or what he was doing here. Who told you I might know something?”
“A-a-a traveler I befriended at a tavern suggested it. I was already headed this way anyway, so I thought I would investigate.” She paused, waiting for the general to follow up. After several seconds passed and the only sound heard in the room was his light breathing, she continued. “Adrianus was one of the Penitus Oculatus. He was sent here before the current fighting broke out.”
Tullius finally wrested himself from his map and stood up from the long table to face her. Once again, the power of mere names was evident. Penelope swore that she had seen the man tense with the mention of the Emperor's clandestine guard.
“Penitus Oculatus, you say?” As the black-haired woman nodded, the Imperial crossed his arms. After another brief silence the latter shook his head, his naturally somber expression deepening. “Well, then, I certainly wouldn’t know anything about him. And, child, even if I did, it’s classified information. But your eyes tell me that you already know that.”
The Breton responded with a tired yet knowing smile and gentle chuckle. “It would taste a lie to say that I’m not familiar with Legion protocol. All the same, I must humbly ask for any and all information that you can give to point me in the right direction. He has family who more than deserves answers. Please, I seek only to reclaim his remains and return them for a proper hero’s burial.”
“Very many of the Empire’s heroes have fought and died and gone sleeping in unknown tombs around Tamriel. So we’re clear, there is no dishonor in that!”
“Of course, of course, I meant no disrespect. It is a warrior’s actions that safeguard his honor, not where he lies at rest. Nevertheless…that fact does not diminish my passion in seeing this task through. And I will do it with or without guidance.”
“My dear, I wish I could assist you, but as I myself know nothing of the man you're asking about nor what the Oculatus has been doing here - to say nothing of the small detail that I would not disclose such a thing even if I did know - there simply is nothing I can do for you. I would strongly suggest that you return to Cyrodiil. You were at Helgen, were you not? You very nearly lost your head on account of your curiosity and it’s by the Divines’ good graces that you’re yet alive to tell the tale.”
"Wait...but...how-"
“For what it’s worth, I can assure you that that captain has since been disciplined. We cannot afford egregious oversights such as that.”
“Please, sir, you must answer my question!”
“Once the rebels have been put down and the fighting subsides here, things lost in the fog of war will be revealed. In the meantime, go home, child. None of this is for you.”
“But…” She raised her hands in a disheartened half-shrug, a weak appeal. But it was in vain.
"I do sincerely wish you the best of luck. But I've spoken all that I shall on the matter. I bid you good day."
As the general turned to refocus upon his map and scattered papers, the young woman gave a defeated sigh. Her departure from the room was a slow one, and she began to drag her feet even more as she approached the door leading back out to the courtyard. But she stopped as soon as she heard a shuffling and rustling of metal and armor. She turned to see a tall, uniformed woman step out from a side corridor.
“I apologize for eavesdropping, but I couldn’t let you leave without telling you that I think what you’re doing is quite noble. Family is everything – in life and in death.”
“Thank you, though it hardly feels especially praise-worthy - it’s my duty. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try.”
“Well, however you look at it, it is commendable. And I wish you the best.”
“I appreciate your goodwill.” She turned to look sorrowfully back toward Tullius in the war room. “I only wish that clues were a bit more forthcoming. Haven’t stopped feeling like everyone I ask here knows something. They just won’t come out with it. And for the life of me, I can’t understand why that is.”
The taller woman, a Nord, followed the other’s glance to the preoccupied general in the next room.
“I think people are just…wary right now. Unsure. Not always ready to trust strangers with information.”
“I don’t begrudge them their wariness, especially not in times like these. But sometimes it's really just about doing right by one's family. Nothing more, nothing less. As I told the General, I'm continuing on this journey whether I have help or not. If the Legion wants to act like they've never heard of one of their bravest and most loyal fighters, more fool them."
"We would be more than fools to treat his family so dismissively - his daughter as well." A chill beset the Breton. Impossible.
"But you...how could you possibly-?"
"It's written all over you, in your face, in your demeanor, your walk. Not to mention your voice. I didn't know your father, but I knew from the moment I saw you that you were a soldier's daughter. A warrior's daughter."
The plain-spoken compliment was one of the greatest she ever had received. And it was the type that resounded the most powerfully with her. For a moment, she could see her father’s warm and proud smile before his face faded again. The Nord woman’s humbling words continued to briefly fluster her as she responded.
"Heh, indeed, I am that. Well…I suppose if I'm that transparent, General Tullius figures as much of me as well."
The soldier just smiled and gave a nod. Penelope could tell that the Legionnaire was long familiar with the idiosyncrasies of her commanding officer. Her weathered but nonetheless gentle features bespoke a sagacity beyond the usual. The Breton woman continued, almost hesitant to ask her next question but likewise determined.
"So then, does he really not know anything or is he just holding back? If he too realizes who I am, in relation to my father, he must know how grave this is."
"I think it's a bit of both, to be honest. The General would likely only have passing knowledge of the comings and goings of the Imperial Guard. You know as well as I that they keep it all very close to the chest. Even still General Tullius, as the military governor, would hear things. He is never completely deaf or blind to what happens in this land, even when it involves the Oculatus. Bottom line is that he would very likely have to do some inquiring to find out specifics about your father. Regardless of what he told you in there, I believe he would and will help you out the best that he can.”
Penelope crossed her arms, contemplating. Plotting. It was a look that people back home knew to watch for, for better and for worse. The wheels were always turning in her mind, keeping pace with the exuberant beats of her heart.
“Perhaps…it just might take some good old-fashioned...persuasion."
As soon as she saw the Nord raise an incredulous eyebrow, she quickly continued.
"Persuasion in the form of impression. I know the Legion needs all of the help it can get here. And I’ve spent time getting familiar with the terrain. Not to mention, I have sufficient combat training – more than sufficient. I think I could be of some help. If, of course, the General will allow it."
“You sound like you’ve already made up your mind, my lady.”
"Truth be told, it’s something that had been nagging at me since getting caught just across the border. The reality of it…it all started to become clearer from that point onward. I befriended a kindly Nord from Riverwood, a Hadvar. Good man. After escaping Helgen together and speaking with him, his family and many other Nords and non-Nords in my travels, I’ve come to be reminded of just what my father was fighting for - here and elsewhere. I understand it, and I appreciate it. My reluctance to formally get involved has been simply due to the worry that it would distract from my primary mission here. But I can see now that nothing is as easy as you initially hope. People are frustratingly complex and guard their secrets with everything in them. If nothing else, I’m guaranteed to come across some clues along the way.”
“You’re right about that, nothing is ever as easy as you hope. Not a day or night goes by that I don’t pray that Ulfric will be struck with some real sense and he’ll lay his weapons down. And that he’ll convince his followers, our brethren, to do the same. But it’s never that simple…”
The distance in the woman’s voice and stare told Penelope about the depth of her thoughts. The way she spoke of Ulfric, the way her eyes suddenly contradicted her tough exterior and began to very lightly mist over – they were indicators of a subtext. She dared not inquire, though she was very curious. She just remained quietly respectful, reflective, until the soldier broke from her trance and turned back to the Breton.
“I apologize…I don’t like letting myself get caught up like that. It’s just, well, memories. Memories that have since become hopes for better days.”
“I know just what you mean.” Penelope smiled reassuringly.
“Well,” The Nord very quickly – inconspicuously - rubbed her eyes and reclaimed her stoic poise. “I understand why you wish to join the Legion. And I’ll not question it. Everyone’s fighting for different reasons, on both sides, and I’d be naïve to believe otherwise. But I just want you to be certain that it’s really what you wish to do. Once you’re in the Legion, you’re-”
“In it for life. Indeed, my father always used to remind us of that. He was very proud of his affiliation and dedication to the army. It’s not something I take lightly, believe me. I realize that the circumstances of my taking the oath now are not typical, but I am no less sincere.”
“Alright then. It’s settled. As Legate and the General’s chief lieutenant, I’m the one to deal with new recruits. And as such, I’ll unfortunately have to break the bad news to you now.”
“Bad news?” Penelope blinked.
“There is a process that we normally use to vet fledgling soldiers. However, I can tell your quality just from looking at you – you’re different. And that means that the normal process won’t be necessary. I’d be inclined to overlook it anyway, even if matters weren’t what they are. Still, in order to keep the General happy, we’ll need another ‘test’ of sorts.”
“Fair enough then. What sort of test?” She could not hide the wariness in her voice, even being as determined as she was.
“How do you feel about bandits? Had much experience with them?”
“Actually, I’ve had my share of run-ins with them. They’re a blight upon this land and my own, that’s for sure. But they’ve never been anything I couldn’t manage.”
“Good. There’s an old fort to the west and north of here that we need to garrison, to give us another solid vantage point in Haafingar: Fort Hraggstad. It’s been occupied by bandits for too long and we could really use the position. I know General Tullius has had thoughts of dispatching a contingent to deal with them, but we’ve all had our eyes elsewhere as of late. If you can take care of this for us, I know the General will allow you to take the oath. After all, you survived Helgen. I wish we could say the same for many others.”
Bandits, eh? Bandits I can handle.
“Understood. I’ll depart as soon as possible and return with good news, you have my word.”
“I must say, new recruits with such passion and conviction can too often seem few and far between. There are many who sign on to the ranks because they’re bored or think it might be ‘fun’. You couldn’t be further from that sort.”
“Well, again, I won't deny that there is a certain practicality in it all as well. I realize that it may be the only way to get where I need to go. And still, I’m likely to find out something while I’m on assignment. Just have to try not to die before I do, I suppose!”
Her good humor was genuine, but audibly taxed. The gravity of her decision had finally hit her. And the Nord soldier could hear it in her voice.
"I can only imagine your frustration and pain - I can see in your eyes that your journey has been long and arduous. I do hope that Skyrim's people have treated you as a guest while here."
"I have never been wanting for hospitality in this beautiful province, it's true."
Penelope sighed and looked toward the ground, eyes darting here and there in thought. A few moments passed before she returned her glance to the Legate before her, who offered her own reassuring smile.
“Know this: whatever happens from here, I’ll do everything in my power to help you uncover what you need to know. I can make no promises, of course, but you have my word that I will do all that I can. The Legion has a great many eyes and ears here in Skyrim, and there is always someone who knows something, anything at all, no matter how small a detail.”
"Thank you, I truly appreciate your kindness. It means more to me than you know.”
“It's the least I can do. Oh, and you can tell those scoundrels at Fort Hraggstad that Rikke sends her regards.”
The Breton was relieved to finally get the woman’s name without having to ask. It’s always such an awkward venture, she mused.
"Ah. And I will likewise teach them to fear the name, ‘Penelope’!”
The two women shook hands, and the shorter one gave a quick nod. "Thank you, Legate Rikke. I'll return soon – that old fort is as good as ours."
“And I, in the meantime, will speak to the General. I think I can convince him of a few things. He’s not really as stubborn as he looks. Well, not quite as stubborn.” Rikke winked, and Penelope laughed.
“I should hope so!”
"Gods go with you, soldier."
With that, she made her way out of Castle Dour. Just before exiting, the Legion's flags, hanging on all sides of the room, soon caught her cursory glance. The dragons gave a whisper from their place in front of the cold stone walls. It was enough to evoke a chill, as well as the sounds of a very familiar and beloved voice in her ears. Her smile, though confident, still wavered slightly with sorrow.
I won’t let you down, father. I’ll see this through – and raise my blade in the land where yours fell. You are far more than a memory.
The road to Solitude was thankfully not a long one from Dragon Bridge. As the gentle wind began to blow cooler and with a hint of brine, she knew the coast below the marvelous city was close. She had heard tell of the capital’s antique beauty and she eagerly anticipated the sights. Haafingar was the only hold in which she had not yet attended to Guild business and she was pleased to have the chance to see it now. The path, rocky and verdant on either side, sloped upward and grew ever more promising while horse and rider continued their trek. Maro's words continued to repeat themselves in her mind, time passing with each sentence slowed down and dissected. In spite of her best efforts, she could not decipher the meanings to the nervous shifts of glances and ominous pauses that she had witnessed since even before leaving Cyrodiil. The people of Cheydinhal were ever wary of some unseen terror that continued to lie in wait there. And as such, she expected that behavior from them. But the guards and soldiers and officers in the Imperial City...when she saw their eyes fall hollow with distant shock and gripping fear, she found herself duly unsettled. And still with no answers. Her thoughts left her drifting through the last legs of her short journey to Solitude, not even noticing the small farm that greeted her before the main gates. The neighs and whinnies of penned ponies jolted her from her trance and she returned her focus to the grand city ahead.
Kallias hitched, she hurriedly made her way to the city gates. A pair of guards traced her sprightly steps and she thought she heard one muttering under his breath to the other, who merely snickered in response. But she just pressed on, ignoring them. Upon entering the city, a flood of echoes burst forth - sights, sounds and smells that forthwith brought the young Breton back to the Imperial City. The memories sprang from the sturdy and lovely architecture, resounded in the crowd’s low murmur and rode the sweet incense on the wind. Peering at the skyline, she grinned at the reminders of a home that had until now seemed all too far away. The sea breeze found her again and she breathed it in deep. Warmth of that collective fondness washed over her.
But the pleasantness was short-lived as the crowd's murmur swiftly turned into a cacophony of shouts and whistles. As she stepped further into Solitude proper, she saw residents flock to the right. Penelope could see a raised area and upon it, a plain-clothed man in binds and his death-bringer. A dark-haired, bearded man in Legion garb stood off to the side. She could tell that the two, the officer and the condemned, were speaking. She could not, however, make out their words amid the hollers of the audience. When the soldier stepped back and the executioner approached, it all seemed as though time had suddenly slowed - like she was watching it all unfold underwater. Even the noise of the spectators was brought to a much lower roar with every heavy step of the axe man.
She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away as the weapon came down upon the man's yielding neck. Even from where she stood, she could clearly hear the ghastly wet sound of separation and the thump and thud of a rolling head. Her stomach turned. As she slowly, warily, returned her gaze to the stage and beheld the gruesome aftermath, she shook her own head solemnly. Mumblings amid the crowd suggested that the condemned had betrayed Skyrim and the Empire, that he was a guard who had knowingly opened the gates twice for Ulfric the renegade, the great traitor. And who had allowed him to escape, King Torygg's blood still wet on his clothes and skin. A few others seemed disturbed and deeply lamenting of what had just taken place, decrying it as a miscarriage of justice. A stranger to not only the city but the land at large, the young Breton herself was torn. No doubt that if the accusatory mutterings were true, she could see a place for judgment. Yet the sad whispers about his young niece and his heartbroken sister chilled her to the core. Regardless of whether the man was guilty of the specific charges, it did not lessen the tragedy.
Not only that, but she was also reminded of her own brush with the executioner's block - back when she first entered Skyrim and was caught trying to head north from Cheydinhal toward Riften. No matter what, the Imperial soldiers who had arrested her would hear nothing of her pleading and assertion of her family name. The girl was innocent. But it mattered not. She had desperately hoped that perhaps one or more of the Legion's officers would have recognized her from Cyrodiil. What she had always realized intellectually but did not fully appreciate until those moments was how diverse the Legion truly was - and that many of its soldiers in Skyrim were in fact Nords and Redguards who had never set foot in her home province and would not have had any familiarity with her or her father's name. She still recalled her long ride on the cart to Helgen. And even now, it seemed surreal to her that she shared that cart with the most wanted criminal in the land. I'll certainly have some real tales to tell when I finally get back home.
A brush of her shoulder suddenly released her from her recollections, and she turned to see who was responsible. A man, a youngish Imperial from the looks of him, faced her, smiling broadly. Having just witnessed the grisly event, she wondered how he could appear so strangely chipper.
“Oh, I’m sorry, excuse me. I didn’t, uh, see you there, my dear.” She knew that tone all too well, that pretense of folly. It was a favorite tactic of merchants in Cyrodiil, particularly the Imperial City. It was a slyer alternative to garishly hawking wares. It had never impressed her much, and she was not afraid of letting that skepticism show.
“Oh? Well, I’ll try to be more noticeable next time.” As she turned to take her leave, the Imperial also made clear that he was not yet finished. Nowhere near so. And he lightly took hold of the same shoulder he had “accidentally” bumped a few moments earlier. She did not appreciate the touch, but silently endured it all the same.
“Ha, touché, touché. So, what is a Breton doing in our fair city? Even better question might be: what is the nature of said Breton’s lodging here in Solitude?”
“I beg your pardon? I fail to see how that’s any of your business.”
“Well, actually, it is quite literally my business. Erm, well, my father’s... But damnit, it will be mine one day!”
Penelope’s wait for a revelation gave way only to uncomfortable silence, which she took upon herself to break after several seconds.
“…Ssssoooo….you’re an innkeeper? At least I hope that’s the case.”
“Indeed, I am! Well, again, not technically, completely, officially…pfft! Nevermind. Point is, my family runs not only the best inn here in Solitude, but the only inn in Solitude! The Winking Skeever!” He gestured toward the charming building across the way. Penelope was slightly amused by the skeever on the inn’s hanging shield.
“Ah, the ‘Winking Skeever’, indeed. Looks like a lovely place. So very…” Her eyes darted back to the executioner’s stage, which coincidentally found itself across from the inn. “Convenient.”
“Indeed, we are! So! Will you be staying with me - er, us – while here? We’ve got warm beds available and plenty of ice cold mead. As much as you can handle.”
“I suppose, if I should find myself in need of overnight accommodations, your inn will do just fine, mister…uh…?”
“Vinius, Sorex Vinius.”
“Well, it’s been a pleasure, Sorex Vinius. I’ll be sure to come find you personally about a room later this evening.” As had long since become a reflex, she extended a hand for a firm, friendly shake. But instead of following up on that gesture, the man took her hand and bestowed it with a kiss. She almost rolled her eyes at the action, which was yet another part of the merchant’s “trade” back home. But, she just offered a small smile. She knew the value of grace.
“Please do.” He grinned, and was pleased to see her seized by new urgency.
“…Actually, there’s one more thing you might be able to help me with.” His grin widened, seeming all too eager for her to linger.
“Anything for you…”
“What?” Her eyes narrowed.
“Nothing.”
“Erm, so, do you know where I would, in theory, find General Tullius of the Legion?” Sorex’s grin melted away, his brow rapidly furrowing.
“Tullius, huh? What could you possibly want with him?” As soon as the Breton shot him a waspish glance in retort, the Imperial realized his latest misstep. And sighed.
“Alright, alright. He’d be up in Castle Dour.”
“Castle Dour?” Head tilted.
“You know, the really imposing fortress just over yonder.” He gestured to the dark stone structure that stretched the length of the city. She had already had some inkling that it was her target, but confirmation never hurt. She chuckled at the hint of impatience in his tone.
“Yes, yes, I see it. Right, somewhere in there then. Would you happen to know whereabouts inside said imposing fortress just over yonder?”
“Well, no…as I don’t make a habit of spending my free time there. But, if I had to guess, I’d say that one of the wings adjacent to the practice yard would be a good bet. Just ask directions, heh.”
“Hmpf. Well, thank you, Mr. Vinius. I may be seeing you again soon then.”
“Indeed, I do hope so.” He winked and strolled off, heading toward the open-air market. She watched him disappear into the slowly shuffling crowd. While grateful for the information, as well as the very enthusiastic promise of lodging, she still could not suppress a low growl in her throat.
No one could ever possibly appreciate how much she hated asking for directions.
…………..
After stopping at the marketplace to pick up a few various food items, as well as a couple of bottles of spiced wine, she briskly navigated the stone streets. Following the winding corridors and lofty structures, she eventually found her way to the practice yard that the innkeeper’s son had mentioned. The sounds of wood thrusting upon hide shields, deliberate steps and the measured praises of a watchful officer – the same one who had been at the execution, in fact – all had confirmed that she had moved in the right direction. She swelled with both pride and familiarity at the waving Legion colors set against the striking towers. The small collection of soldiers present for training gave her a few intrigued glances, but returned to their drills as she disappeared through the first door she found facing the courtyard.
The inside of the fortress was cool and musty, smelling vaguely of old books, leather and smoke from kindling fire pits; it felt every bit as archaic as it looked from the outside. Her footfall on the hard floor grew slower, though, until it stopped. Muffled voices resounding from every direction had been growing louder with each step and for the first time in a while – at least since the last time she had been confronted by Mercer Frey – she was profoundly nervous. Tullius was not the first general she ever had to interact with, nor would he be the last. It was not that she was intimidated by his rank. It was rather a sense of how much was at stake, how much was riding on his cooperation and amenability. She could not afford to have him wary of her. They both had been in Helgen and had seen the carnage there. But she had been a prisoner summarily condemned for treason. There was no telling what his reaction would be to her reappearance here now.
Drawing a deep breath and attempting to calm her pounding heart, she put one foot in front of the other and continued her march to the war room ahead. Sure enough, she found the silver-haired general alone and hunched over a table covered with a map and miscellaneous sheets of parchment. He did not even look up to acknowledge the visitor, only waited for her footsteps to cease before addressing her.
“Yes, what can I do for you?”
“I…I must request some information from you, sir. About one of the Legion’s officers who was sent to Skyrim some months ago.”
“Indeed? Which one would that be?” After her haunting conversation with Maro in Dragon Bridge, she had decided to be a bit more reserved with her words, in addition to her identity. If there truly was any kind of lingering danger, she had to be extremely cautious with her speech.
“Adrianus, of Cheydinhal. He…was killed here in Skyrim. But nothing more is known. I was told you might have more information.”
Tullius raised his eyes a bit from the table, still not meeting her glance but looking across the room in contemplation.
“Adrianus, eh? The name is familiar, but…can’t say I know anything about him or what he was doing here. Who told you I might know something?”
“A-a-a traveler I befriended at a tavern suggested it. I was already headed this way anyway, so I thought I would investigate.” She paused, waiting for the general to follow up. After several seconds passed and the only sound heard in the room was his light breathing, she continued. “Adrianus was one of the Penitus Oculatus. He was sent here before the current fighting broke out.”
Tullius finally wrested himself from his map and stood up from the long table to face her. Once again, the power of mere names was evident. Penelope swore that she had seen the man tense with the mention of the Emperor's clandestine guard.
“Penitus Oculatus, you say?” As the black-haired woman nodded, the Imperial crossed his arms. After another brief silence the latter shook his head, his naturally somber expression deepening. “Well, then, I certainly wouldn’t know anything about him. And, child, even if I did, it’s classified information. But your eyes tell me that you already know that.”
The Breton responded with a tired yet knowing smile and gentle chuckle. “It would taste a lie to say that I’m not familiar with Legion protocol. All the same, I must humbly ask for any and all information that you can give to point me in the right direction. He has family who more than deserves answers. Please, I seek only to reclaim his remains and return them for a proper hero’s burial.”
“Very many of the Empire’s heroes have fought and died and gone sleeping in unknown tombs around Tamriel. So we’re clear, there is no dishonor in that!”
“Of course, of course, I meant no disrespect. It is a warrior’s actions that safeguard his honor, not where he lies at rest. Nevertheless…that fact does not diminish my passion in seeing this task through. And I will do it with or without guidance.”
“My dear, I wish I could assist you, but as I myself know nothing of the man you're asking about nor what the Oculatus has been doing here - to say nothing of the small detail that I would not disclose such a thing even if I did know - there simply is nothing I can do for you. I would strongly suggest that you return to Cyrodiil. You were at Helgen, were you not? You very nearly lost your head on account of your curiosity and it’s by the Divines’ good graces that you’re yet alive to tell the tale.”
"Wait...but...how-"
“For what it’s worth, I can assure you that that captain has since been disciplined. We cannot afford egregious oversights such as that.”
“Please, sir, you must answer my question!”
“Once the rebels have been put down and the fighting subsides here, things lost in the fog of war will be revealed. In the meantime, go home, child. None of this is for you.”
“But…” She raised her hands in a disheartened half-shrug, a weak appeal. But it was in vain.
"I do sincerely wish you the best of luck. But I've spoken all that I shall on the matter. I bid you good day."
As the general turned to refocus upon his map and scattered papers, the young woman gave a defeated sigh. Her departure from the room was a slow one, and she began to drag her feet even more as she approached the door leading back out to the courtyard. But she stopped as soon as she heard a shuffling and rustling of metal and armor. She turned to see a tall, uniformed woman step out from a side corridor.
“I apologize for eavesdropping, but I couldn’t let you leave without telling you that I think what you’re doing is quite noble. Family is everything – in life and in death.”
“Thank you, though it hardly feels especially praise-worthy - it’s my duty. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try.”
“Well, however you look at it, it is commendable. And I wish you the best.”
“I appreciate your goodwill.” She turned to look sorrowfully back toward Tullius in the war room. “I only wish that clues were a bit more forthcoming. Haven’t stopped feeling like everyone I ask here knows something. They just won’t come out with it. And for the life of me, I can’t understand why that is.”
The taller woman, a Nord, followed the other’s glance to the preoccupied general in the next room.
“I think people are just…wary right now. Unsure. Not always ready to trust strangers with information.”
“I don’t begrudge them their wariness, especially not in times like these. But sometimes it's really just about doing right by one's family. Nothing more, nothing less. As I told the General, I'm continuing on this journey whether I have help or not. If the Legion wants to act like they've never heard of one of their bravest and most loyal fighters, more fool them."
"We would be more than fools to treat his family so dismissively - his daughter as well." A chill beset the Breton. Impossible.
"But you...how could you possibly-?"
"It's written all over you, in your face, in your demeanor, your walk. Not to mention your voice. I didn't know your father, but I knew from the moment I saw you that you were a soldier's daughter. A warrior's daughter."
The plain-spoken compliment was one of the greatest she ever had received. And it was the type that resounded the most powerfully with her. For a moment, she could see her father’s warm and proud smile before his face faded again. The Nord woman’s humbling words continued to briefly fluster her as she responded.
"Heh, indeed, I am that. Well…I suppose if I'm that transparent, General Tullius figures as much of me as well."
The soldier just smiled and gave a nod. Penelope could tell that the Legionnaire was long familiar with the idiosyncrasies of her commanding officer. Her weathered but nonetheless gentle features bespoke a sagacity beyond the usual. The Breton woman continued, almost hesitant to ask her next question but likewise determined.
"So then, does he really not know anything or is he just holding back? If he too realizes who I am, in relation to my father, he must know how grave this is."
"I think it's a bit of both, to be honest. The General would likely only have passing knowledge of the comings and goings of the Imperial Guard. You know as well as I that they keep it all very close to the chest. Even still General Tullius, as the military governor, would hear things. He is never completely deaf or blind to what happens in this land, even when it involves the Oculatus. Bottom line is that he would very likely have to do some inquiring to find out specifics about your father. Regardless of what he told you in there, I believe he would and will help you out the best that he can.”
Penelope crossed her arms, contemplating. Plotting. It was a look that people back home knew to watch for, for better and for worse. The wheels were always turning in her mind, keeping pace with the exuberant beats of her heart.
“Perhaps…it just might take some good old-fashioned...persuasion."
As soon as she saw the Nord raise an incredulous eyebrow, she quickly continued.
"Persuasion in the form of impression. I know the Legion needs all of the help it can get here. And I’ve spent time getting familiar with the terrain. Not to mention, I have sufficient combat training – more than sufficient. I think I could be of some help. If, of course, the General will allow it."
“You sound like you’ve already made up your mind, my lady.”
"Truth be told, it’s something that had been nagging at me since getting caught just across the border. The reality of it…it all started to become clearer from that point onward. I befriended a kindly Nord from Riverwood, a Hadvar. Good man. After escaping Helgen together and speaking with him, his family and many other Nords and non-Nords in my travels, I’ve come to be reminded of just what my father was fighting for - here and elsewhere. I understand it, and I appreciate it. My reluctance to formally get involved has been simply due to the worry that it would distract from my primary mission here. But I can see now that nothing is as easy as you initially hope. People are frustratingly complex and guard their secrets with everything in them. If nothing else, I’m guaranteed to come across some clues along the way.”
“You’re right about that, nothing is ever as easy as you hope. Not a day or night goes by that I don’t pray that Ulfric will be struck with some real sense and he’ll lay his weapons down. And that he’ll convince his followers, our brethren, to do the same. But it’s never that simple…”
The distance in the woman’s voice and stare told Penelope about the depth of her thoughts. The way she spoke of Ulfric, the way her eyes suddenly contradicted her tough exterior and began to very lightly mist over – they were indicators of a subtext. She dared not inquire, though she was very curious. She just remained quietly respectful, reflective, until the soldier broke from her trance and turned back to the Breton.
“I apologize…I don’t like letting myself get caught up like that. It’s just, well, memories. Memories that have since become hopes for better days.”
“I know just what you mean.” Penelope smiled reassuringly.
“Well,” The Nord very quickly – inconspicuously - rubbed her eyes and reclaimed her stoic poise. “I understand why you wish to join the Legion. And I’ll not question it. Everyone’s fighting for different reasons, on both sides, and I’d be naïve to believe otherwise. But I just want you to be certain that it’s really what you wish to do. Once you’re in the Legion, you’re-”
“In it for life. Indeed, my father always used to remind us of that. He was very proud of his affiliation and dedication to the army. It’s not something I take lightly, believe me. I realize that the circumstances of my taking the oath now are not typical, but I am no less sincere.”
“Alright then. It’s settled. As Legate and the General’s chief lieutenant, I’m the one to deal with new recruits. And as such, I’ll unfortunately have to break the bad news to you now.”
“Bad news?” Penelope blinked.
“There is a process that we normally use to vet fledgling soldiers. However, I can tell your quality just from looking at you – you’re different. And that means that the normal process won’t be necessary. I’d be inclined to overlook it anyway, even if matters weren’t what they are. Still, in order to keep the General happy, we’ll need another ‘test’ of sorts.”
“Fair enough then. What sort of test?” She could not hide the wariness in her voice, even being as determined as she was.
“How do you feel about bandits? Had much experience with them?”
“Actually, I’ve had my share of run-ins with them. They’re a blight upon this land and my own, that’s for sure. But they’ve never been anything I couldn’t manage.”
“Good. There’s an old fort to the west and north of here that we need to garrison, to give us another solid vantage point in Haafingar: Fort Hraggstad. It’s been occupied by bandits for too long and we could really use the position. I know General Tullius has had thoughts of dispatching a contingent to deal with them, but we’ve all had our eyes elsewhere as of late. If you can take care of this for us, I know the General will allow you to take the oath. After all, you survived Helgen. I wish we could say the same for many others.”
Bandits, eh? Bandits I can handle.
“Understood. I’ll depart as soon as possible and return with good news, you have my word.”
“I must say, new recruits with such passion and conviction can too often seem few and far between. There are many who sign on to the ranks because they’re bored or think it might be ‘fun’. You couldn’t be further from that sort.”
“Well, again, I won't deny that there is a certain practicality in it all as well. I realize that it may be the only way to get where I need to go. And still, I’m likely to find out something while I’m on assignment. Just have to try not to die before I do, I suppose!”
Her good humor was genuine, but audibly taxed. The gravity of her decision had finally hit her. And the Nord soldier could hear it in her voice.
"I can only imagine your frustration and pain - I can see in your eyes that your journey has been long and arduous. I do hope that Skyrim's people have treated you as a guest while here."
"I have never been wanting for hospitality in this beautiful province, it's true."
Penelope sighed and looked toward the ground, eyes darting here and there in thought. A few moments passed before she returned her glance to the Legate before her, who offered her own reassuring smile.
“Know this: whatever happens from here, I’ll do everything in my power to help you uncover what you need to know. I can make no promises, of course, but you have my word that I will do all that I can. The Legion has a great many eyes and ears here in Skyrim, and there is always someone who knows something, anything at all, no matter how small a detail.”
"Thank you, I truly appreciate your kindness. It means more to me than you know.”
“It's the least I can do. Oh, and you can tell those scoundrels at Fort Hraggstad that Rikke sends her regards.”
The Breton was relieved to finally get the woman’s name without having to ask. It’s always such an awkward venture, she mused.
"Ah. And I will likewise teach them to fear the name, ‘Penelope’!”
The two women shook hands, and the shorter one gave a quick nod. "Thank you, Legate Rikke. I'll return soon – that old fort is as good as ours."
“And I, in the meantime, will speak to the General. I think I can convince him of a few things. He’s not really as stubborn as he looks. Well, not quite as stubborn.” Rikke winked, and Penelope laughed.
“I should hope so!”
"Gods go with you, soldier."
With that, she made her way out of Castle Dour. Just before exiting, the Legion's flags, hanging on all sides of the room, soon caught her cursory glance. The dragons gave a whisper from their place in front of the cold stone walls. It was enough to evoke a chill, as well as the sounds of a very familiar and beloved voice in her ears. Her smile, though confident, still wavered slightly with sorrow.
I won’t let you down, father. I’ll see this through – and raise my blade in the land where yours fell. You are far more than a memory.
Docta Corvina
Well-Known Member
Thanks, Bulba!
Yeah, Rikke's become one of my favorites in the game. She's complex - tough, but fair. And goodhearted. I'm enjoying bringing her character to the table in this work. She and Tullius will have plenty more face time as it all goes on, that's for sure!Docta Corvina
Well-Known Member
Thanks, Madrar! I know the civil war stuff isn't everyone's cup of tea, but I do appreciate you reading it and enjoying it in spite of that.
Aeri Shadow
Dainty Elven Heir
I finally got around to reading this. You've done a fantastic job! You play off the in-game characters so well, I can practically hear their voice in my head. Keep it up!
Docta Corvina
Well-Known Member
I finally got around to reading this. You've done a fantastic job! You play off the in-game characters so well, I can practically hear their voice in my head. Keep it up!
Thank you so much, Aeri!
I've had a lot of fun with this story so far and I'm excited to continue it. One thing I always especially like to have fun with is indeed the character dialogue. This game has so many really vibrant and rich personas to work with, I just love it! 
Start Dale
I got 99 problems but a Deadra ain't one.
Yeah i have to say i'm really getting into this story, i found the characterization of Legate Rikke very on the ball with how i pictured her. Looking forward to you balancing the two questlines out.
Aeri Shadow
Dainty Elven Heir
Thank you so much, Aeri!
I couldn't agree more. You're doing an amazing job with the dialogue as is. I'm especially amazed at the fact that you haven't taken an quotes from the actual characters.
Docta Corvina
Well-Known Member
Thank you, Dale!
I'm glad I seemed to get Rikke right, I was nervous about writing her. But like I told Bulbaquil, I find her intriguing as a character and I just had to bring her into this craziness. The dual questline aspect is and will remain challenging, but rewarding - if I play my cards right. I hope to, lol!
Docta Corvina
Well-Known Member
I couldn't agree more. You're doing an amazing job with the dialogue as is. I'm especially amazed at the fact that you haven't taken an quotes from the actual characters.
Aww, thank you again!
It's tempting to use in-game dialogue that's so readily available. But I wanted something of a fresh take. I'm sure hints of existing dialogue will pop up eventually, but I'm enjoying keeping it original.
Aeri Shadow
Dainty Elven Heir
Aww, thank you again!
You're very welcome. I'm just oozing compliments today.
It's always so tempting to just take a scene from something in Skyrim and put a narrative twist on it.
Keepin' it fresh.
Jersey Dagmar
Just in time for the fiyahworks show! BOOM!
Fear the name Penelope? That honestly made me laugh.
Docta Corvina
Well-Known Member
LOL, yeah! It's always the vibe I got from Sorex whenever playing as Pen, I gotta say. I never got the same vibe when running around as any of my other characters.
I'm pretty well convinced he's just an Imperial with a thing for Bretons - he did (still does?) have a crush on Vivienne Onis, after all!
Docta Corvina
Well-Known Member
Docta Corvina
Well-Known Member
I'm with you there - I happen to like Belethor, despite the attitude.
I'm gonna have a scene where Pen does in fact take a cue from the game and try to engage him in conversation about what brings a fellow Breton to Skyrim. And he's gonna be just as much of a little crab apple as usual! xDSo many Bretons, while very cute, can be so...irritable. I love it!
