18+ A Vie For Power

[Majir-Dar]

The smell of lavender and roses permeated the funeral reception for Emperor Titus Mede the Second. The late Emperor of Tamriel, and one of the most powerful men to have ever ruled. He was a victim of his own wisdom in a way, at least as far as the Nords of Skyrim were concerned. The White-Gold Concordat was a necessary evil if there ever was one, but to have them tell it the Emperor was simply a coward that wanted nothing but to drive the Empire and its Provinces to the ground for the Thalmor to use as fertilizer for their crops. No, what he was was a man that remembered the lives slain, and foresaw many more being slain. Not just soldiers and mercenaries, but innocents were murdered as well, in what any should consider war crimes, Vontan thought as he sat on a magnificent carved bench next to his family listening to the high priest go on about this and that. The nauseous fumes of everyone's colognes and perfumes were finally beating down the fresh scent of rose and lavender and he refrained from wrinkling his nose in disgust as best he could. Even this haphazard mess of floral, citrus, and woody pollutants was a better alternative to the stink of Titus Mede's corpse. Whatever poison the assassin was fond of using advanced the late Emperor's rate of decay beyond belief, and even closing the ornate ebony and gold casket only hid the smell so much.

The casket was an ever-so-friendly gift from the Thalmor. Hopefully their last word regarding the Emperors's actions. The message was clear to Vontan: we are glad he's dead. The Elder Council elected to use it for the sole purpose of pleasing the Thalmor in attendance. With the rebellion in Skyrim all but finished, they could finally afford some minor defeats as long as it gave them even a little more time. Time was on their side afterall. The fire of rebellion was put out on the mainland, but it had grown into shades of fierce blue in the Summerset Isles, or, as the Thalmor fancied it, Alinor.

Vontan raised a tan silken handkerchief to his watering eyes to dry them. Or at least will grow blue eventually. Surely they must break at some point, Vontan hoped.

As the services ended, and he was finally allowed to leave the packed hall, Vontan attempted to find the High Chancellor, Amantius Vodenius. It wasn't particularly difficult to do so, seeing as how he was surrounded in a swirling ocean of figures from Counts to degenerate homeless that had somehow snuck in to prey upon the open bars and bother the people they could never become. The difficulty of his task was compounded as he was subject to the same people washing over him. He couldn't politely get away from so many floral or fruity scented bags of silk and meat.

So Vontan resigned himself to writing to the High Chancellor instead. The matter wasn't too urgent in itself, but it aided one to play the part of loyalty when one is planning something traitorous. Poison of the variety the Emperor's assassin utilized was not cheap, afterall, and failing or being caught was a wicked way to lose an investment, without a doubt.

Vontan Minglumire departed to his chambers where he drafted his letter to the High Chancellor on an oak desk with a gold tipped dip pen. He would lament the passing of a great leader, hope that a new leader could rise and take his place, and of course that maybe, just maybe the High Chancellor should assume the role himself. Afterall, it was only right.

 

[NightRaven]

Vincentia Juniello sat on a bench close to the casket, one reserved for the family of the deceased. Since she was the only one, a few councilors sat next to her, though she could feel their distaste of her coming off them in waves. Between them and the proximity of the foul-smelling casket, the ceremony was utter torture. It helped that she was at a funeral, and thus no one thought twice when she buried her face in her handkerchief, and forced out a sob now and again. It wasn't that she was unaffected by the death of someone who rescued her from the streets and had given her a life, rather she had felt the loss of so many that she had become desensitized to it.

Finally, the ceremony ended and people started to disperse. Vincentia made a beeline to the Thalmor seated not too far away, and lowered her handkerchief so she could speak. ”As the Emperor's cousin, I would like to give the Thalmor my sincerest gratitude for the lovely coffin. The man couldn't have picked a better one himself.” They just nodded, then got up and walked away. They probably pegged her as a pathetic brown-noser, but that was the plan anyway. If the Thalmor saw her as a weak and subservient puppet, perhaps she could work that in her favor.

Familiar faces and stranger ones alike came up to her to offer their condolences. Several had stories they shared with her about the Emperor, her saying ”That's amazing!” and ”That sounds like him.” when she was expected to.

“I am so sorry for your loss, my dear,” said Sarxia Flaavio, the countess of Anvil. “So, what will you be doing with yourself now that the Emperor has passed on?”

Vincentia plastered on her best smile. ”I imagine I'll be doing what I've always done, madam. Maybe when we have a new leader I'll help them settle in.”

Sarxia raised an eyebrow. “You don't think that a new emperor will let you stay around, do you?”

The smile didn't fade. ”Well, we'll see what happens.”

Vincentia breathed a sigh of relief when the countess moved on, but her mood lightened when she saw the Arch-mage was next in line. ”Medyyna! I'm so glad you're here,” she said to the Dunmer woman.

Medyyna gave her a pitying look and took her hands. “I'm so sorry, dear.”

Vincentia knew that she was talking about the situation, not the loss of her cousin. ”I'll be alright,” she assured her.

The Arch-mage looked doubtful. “I'm here for you. The entire Mage's Guild is here for you. I don't know if it will mean much, but we are.”

Vincentia nodded in thanks, and the line of 'mourners' continued.

 

[Sven the Silent]

Socucius had arrived hours before the funeral was set to take place, bringing with him expensive gifts for the family members and close friends of the Emperor. After years of carefully writing down important information about the people whom he had met, he was finally able to use it for his own benefit. This time by providing the grieving relatives with gifts that would mean a lot to them, rather then the jewellery, expensive wines or simple armour. Anyone could buy something expensive under the pretext of having put in a lot of thought, but to gift someone a present close to their hearts required having really paid attention to the individual. With the Emperor dead and a new one needing to be appointed, it was only wise to make sure that your name was amongst the select few considered for the position. And Socucius hoped he had done just that.

With all the gifts having been handed out, and after having spoken with those he deemed of importance, Socucius took his place near the front of the ceremony. He wasn't one to cry, that was and always had been something for the women amongst them. He wasn't sexist but none of the men here cried, atleast not if they wanted to have their reputation soiled. The ceremony was long but bearable, he payed attention and participated when necessary to look proper. He was one of high society after all, even though the death of the Emperor was rather fortunate.

He avoided the Thalmor presence during the ceremony, he had good relations with them, mostly because of his position and his clan. Yet being seen while happily conversating with the pair would be rather damaging for his image, a simple nod to acknowledge their presence was all he could muster. From the scale of beast to mer, the Bretons were one of the least hated for their shared ancestry with the Elves. An advantage that he had used to the best of his abilities. Securing the vote of the Thalmor, the public and the Elder Council were three seperate things he needed to be appointed as Emperor, some were more important then others but if you were a perfectionist then completing all things on the list would only be fitting.

With the ceremony at its end, Socucius made his way through the crowd of people, attempting to reach the exit to the hall and continue on his business. That is untill he noticed one of the cousins of the recently deceased Emperor, he didn't know that much about her but he had a gift prepared none the less. She must have arrived late, or perhaps he just missed her earlier. Whatever the case, a single vote could be life changing hence he turned on the charm and approached the women after all the other people had finished giving their condolences. He didn't see her as a threat, a young girl born to a peasant. Never would she arise to the throne, or so he thought. ''You must be Vincentia, correct me if i'm wrong but you're a second cousin to the deceased and I believe you're soon to be married to one of the jarls in Skyrim.'' He offered her a charming smile and presented her with a gift, the only knowledge he had was her marriage in Skyrim hence he had no other choice but to present her with jewellery, with a fitting enchantment of course. ''Skyrim tends to get rather cold, this necklace has been enchanted by me personally to make the cold weather more bearable.'' He briefly paused after having handed over the gift. ''You have my condolences.''