ROFL!!! I almost lost my coffee laughing at that!

Thanks treydog. I love British humor, which I'm sure comes across in my writing sometimes. I envision Edward's valet as the quintessential English butler, lol, who manages to be discreet with his reactions, no matter how absurd his master comes across.

Nieres: thanks for the comment...I try to keep cultural references out, unless they seem perfectly natural. As for Edward and the Dark Brotherhood...well, I better not address that one, lol, lest I give Edward's path away.

Of noble princes we sings,
All those whose rule we fear
Princes, Lords and Kings
Hopes our praises they hear.
-- Song of the Beggars and Serfs


Chapter Forty-Two

Edward had not spoken to his valet in hours. After the other man's impertinent, downright offensive, suggestion, he had had no desire to converse with him. Furthermore, despite his adamant denial of the idea, his valet's words had touched that shred of common sense that he'd always managed to cling onto, and made him ever so slightly uncomfortable, and ever so slightly depressed.

"You know, sir," his valet said at last, "I've been thinking...it might be a good idea to do something else for a while."

"What?" Edward asked.

"Well, you've got over a month to deal with the prisoner before he's released...and then, you could always get him after he's released too."

Edward frowned. "Why do you care when I do it, anyway?"

His valet shrugged, in an entirely unconvincing attempt at nonchalance. "Oh, I don't know...I just thought that maybe it might be a good idea to take a break from your Brotherhood quests."

"Why?" Edward asked, his frown deepening.

"Well, just so that you can...I don't know...broaden your horizons," the other man answered. "You know, see some other things, go other places."

"I don't think you understand," Edward snapped, "just how important my job is! If not for me, all sorts of nefarious characters would be getting away with all sorts of nefarious deeds! I don't have time to go sightseeing!" He paused. "Anyway, I don't really have enough money for a vacation."

His valet shook his head imperceptibly. No matter how much money Edward earned, he never seemed to be able to hang onto it for very long; between tipping pretty waitresses too much in vain attempts to impress them, to being a magnet for clothes with holes in their pockets, he always managed to wind up short on cash. "Well, sir, I know just the place where you might be able to earn yourself a little bit of money, take care of a few bad guys, and see some beautiful country, all at the same time."

Despite himself, Edward perked up. A vacation didn't sound terribly bad, and it might be nice to build his reputation outside of the Brotherhood. "Oh?" he said, attempting a disinterested air -- attempting, and failing miserably.

"Yes...a little town by the seaside, with lots of beautiful scenery and nice people, and just enough trouble to make it profitable for a noble-minded adventurer such as yourself to clean it up."

Edward smiled, almost forgetting his annoyance with his valet entirely. "At least the man recognizes my inane abilities," he thought. "Or is that innate?" He frowned in thought for several moments, but then dismissed the difficulty. He was too excited about a vacation to worry about stupid things like the proper use of language. "Well, what is this little town?"

"Anvil, sir."

Edward frowned again. "Anvil?"

"Have you been there, sir?"

"Well, no," Edward admitted. "But one doesn't have to go somewhere just to know that it's a backwards place. Take Bruma...I knew before I stepped foot in that frigid den of barbarians that it was an arctic hell. And, of course, I was right."

His valet cleared his throat tactfully. "Yes sir, however, Anvil is not a Bruma."

"Yes," Edward agreed, "it's warmer."

The other man sighed. "Sir, Anvil is a hub of culture!" Edward scoffed, but his valet continued anyway. "The sea port brings in people and goods from all lands!"

"Oh joy," Edward remarked. "A bunch of dirty, uncivilized seafarers bringing second class merchandise, probably stolen, in to drive the prices down for quality merchandise made by hard working Imperials!"

His valet's grimace deepened, but he did not directly confront his master's suppositions. Instead, he said, "Well, there are lots of Imperials in Anvil...and they sometimes have problems with some of the sailors and the dock hands...the whole town would be grateful, I'm sure, if a brave adventurer would come into town and clean things up." Seeing that Edward wasn't wholly convinced, he added, "And I'm sure they'd be willing to pay well...very well!"

Edward smiled at this. Yes, he could see himself filling the role his valet described, particularly the part about collecting a handsome reward. "Well," he said slowly. "I suppose I could make a short trip there...it's not like Valen's going anywhere for awhile." He laughed at his own joke, while his valet tried not to sigh audibly. "After all, these people really do need me...and, if I don't answer the call, they'll be left to face the barbarian hordes by themselves."

"Yes sir," his valet returned in his driest tone.

"And I couldn't desert them like that," Edward continued.

"No sir," the valet responded, his tone unchanged.

Plagues and famine, war and devastation
No single disaster, tragedy or travesty of life can compare
To the horrors of the wayward servant
Fiend, miscreant, and irritant his master simply cannot bear.
-- Excerpt from The Trials of a Nobleman, First Edition

Chapter Forty-Three

Edward was stiff and sore. He and his valet had been riding for almost a week, and he had lost all of his enthusiasm for this adventure; in fact, if he had not been so stiff and so tired, he might just have strangled his companion for talking him into this hellish nightmare in the first place. As it was, they had been riding through almost nonstop storms, in bone-chilling rain and wind, and at an annoyingly slow pace; and, while the latter issue was Edward's fault, as he insisted on making frequent stops to wring the rain water out of his cloak, he held his valet personally responsible for the other difficulties since this trip had been his idea.

Aside from being sore, he was also very tired, and very, very cranky. He had hardly slept so far, and his nerves were completely on edge. Every noise made him jump -- more so than usual -- and every flash of lightning sent his heart into his mouth, until, at last, he was a nervous wreck. Finally, the walls of the city came into sight. Then, after what seemed an agonizing stretch, they had reached the stables, left their mounts, and were heading toward the gate.

Edward was shaking with exhaustion and cold, but his valet seemed to be in high spirits -- a fact that served only to dampen Edward's own spirits further. "You know, sir," the valet was saying, "one of the reasons I was particularly anxious for us to head down here -- aside from it being just the adventure you need, of course -- is that there's a mysterious person who lives here; the folks around these parts just call him 'stranger'. There's something strange about that..."

"Oh, no?" Edward asked sarcastically. "I supposed they call him 'stranger' because there's nothing strange about him at all."

An eyebrow creeping up his forehead, the other man asked, "Is everything alright, sir?"

"No!" Edward shot back. "Everything is not alright! I'm freezing cold, I'm exhausted, I really have no business being here, and you're still breathing!"

The valet cleared his throat. "Yes sir...well, I'm sure these difficulties will all work themselves out once you rent a room, eat a warm meal, take a long nap..."

"Only if some friendly passing loon cuts your head off while I'm sleeping," Edward muttered.

His valet smiled, although very discreetly, and continued speaking. "And the sea here is just wonderful...you know, I haven't been swimming in so long..." He glanced around. "The lightning seems to have stopped...hmm, I just might take a swim while you take a nap."

Edward frowned at his servant. "But it's raining!" he protested.

A flicker of a smile appeared on the other man's face, as he answered, "Oh, good point, sir...I might get wet if I do that!"

Edward's frown deepened, and he wondered which god he should pray to in order to get the lightning to resume and strike his miscreant manservant. Finally, he decided a more realistic option was just to pray to all of them that his valet cramped up while swimming, and drowned.

Both men fell silent, and they had been walking without speaking for several minutes when the valet noticed Edward's lips moving ever so slightly. "Oh, I didn't know you were religious, sir!" he said.

Edward started, looked around rather guiltily, and then asked, "What?"

"Well, you were praying, weren't you?" Edward blinked, but said nothing. "I didn't know you were religious, that's all."

"I'm not," Edward replied. Then, glancing upwards, he hurried to add, "I mean, not terribly...but there's always room for improvement...if I could be convinced that the gods really existed, and were as benevolent and generous as they claim to be, I'm sure I'd become a very religious man."

Smiling discreetly, his valet nodded. "I take it then, sir, you were praying for good fortune during your stay here?"

"Umm, yes, you could say that," Edward said, avoiding the other man's gaze as he spoke.

Revenge is a sweet dish best served cold, much like ice cream.

-- Topic sentence of a grade-school essay written by Edward

Chapter Forty-Four

Edward stumbled, wet and weary, into the Count's Arms, an inn and pub in western Anvil. He glanced about, glaring at everyone in the room. He'd headed to the waterfront already, figuring that there would be cheap lodging to be had there; instead, he had very rudely been ousted from the only inn there, The Fo'c'sle, because he wasn't a seafarer. So, trudging back through the rain to the Count's Arms, he had come to terms with the fact that he'd have to pay a full 25 gold for his room. Needless to say, he was significantly less than pleased. In fact, he was so much less than pleased that he'd inwardly vowed revenge on the proprietress of The Fo'c'sle, Mirabelle Monet -- but not until he'd changed into dry clothes, rested, and eaten, in whatever order took his fancy.

As he clomped -- rather, sloshed -- into the room, staring daggers at everyone who dared to cross his path, a young man approached him. "Hello there!" he greeted. "My name is Velwyn Benirus, and you look like someone who could use a place of your own here in town. And it just so happens that I'm selling a beautiful manor house, full of character, because I'm moving out of town; and, since I don't have time to negotiate, as my business is so pressing, I'm going to let it go for the ridiculously low price..."

Edward turned malevolent eyes in his direction, and snarled, "Piss off!" The other man blinked at Edward's fury, and quickly absented himself. Satisfied by his success, Edward finished sloshing up to the counter, and demanded in his most uncivil tones, "You there! I want a room!"

Wilbur, the publican, cleared his throat, and said, "Yes sir. That'll be 25 gold."

"Highway robbery is illegal in this empire, you know!" Edward snapped.

Wilbur frowned, saying, "Well, sir, if you think you could find a better deal here in town, be my guest."

"'If you think you could find a better deal, be my guest'," Edward repeated in a mocking tone, flinging the gold at the publican.

Stooping to pick it up, Wilbur replied meekly, "Thank you very much, sir. Here's the key to your room." This, in turn, he flung at Edward.

Starting in surprise, Edward made no other move, and the heavy iron key flew into swift, painful contact with his jaw.

Wilbur smiled as Edward bent to retrieve the key. "Have a nice evening, sir."

Trudging up the stairs, oozing a trail of water behind him like a giant human snail, Edward thought, "Well, now, that's one more to add to list..."

When, at least, he'd reached his room, he plopped into a chair -- making a noise very reminiscent of a large stone plopping into a body of water -- and pulled out a soggy list from one of his pockets. It read as follows:




*** Private ***

* * * TOP SECRET * * *

* Do NOT read *

* If found, return to Edward*

* Do NOT read *

* * * TOP SECRET * * *

*** Private ***

Retribution List

Imperial Guard who arrested me (he arrested me!) <-- haven't been able to track him down...too many Imperial Guards

Imperial City beggar (pick-pocketed 3 gold from me) <-- no luck so far...too many beggars, they all look alike

Headmaster George (geography teacher in highschool) <-- bastard croaked before I shove those !#$#'ing globes down his throat...

Aunt Francisca (for sending those gods-awful outfits every Christmas, that Mom would make me wear all #$% 'ing year) <-- died last summer, before I could have retribution...may she rot in Oblivion

Mom (for making me wear the outfits Aunt Francisca would send) <-- CHECK...killed her pet bird, fed it to the cat, the cat choked on its beak

Valen Dreth (for taunting me in prison) <-- update: DB wants him dead too, now I can get revenge and gold, haha, go me!

Vicente Valtieri (arrogant SOB needs to be taught a good lesson) <-- might have to wait on this one...it probably wouldn't do much for my job performance if I attacked my boss

Valet (unparalled insolence, has no respect for me) <-- postpone vengance while he's still useful to me

Mirabelle Monet (throwing me out of her inn)

Frowning as he read over his list, he wondered if it reflected poorly on his abilities that the only person on whom he'd sworn revenge and actually been able to avenge himself was his mother. "Nah," he decided. "My mom is pretty tough...she can even out arm-wrestle me and everything! Anyway, it's always harder to exact revenge on your own mother because of family loyalty and feelings and whatever..."

This point settled to his satisfaction, and reassured that he really was the skilled, ruthless adventurer that he imagined himself to be, he added the following line to his list:

Wilbur (for throwing key into my face)

Then, just in case the point had been lost in the header, Edward added the following at the bottom of the soggy page:

**DO NOT READ -- PRIVATE DOCUMENT**

There goes my keyboard!

Notice to all residents of Anvil:

Please note that repeated rumors have come to our ears of a gang of female thieves who use their wiles to prey on men. As of yet these rumors are unsubstantiated, but we advise all male citizens to use wisdom and caution if approached by any unknown females.

Anvil City Guard




Chapter Forty-Five


Edward had slept for a long time, managed to eat more than a horse, and dug up new, dry clothes. His valet had mysteriously disappeared, and Edward dared to hope that his prayers might have been answered -- although, at the same time, he felt slight compunction. "If the gods really do exist, will they punish me if I don't keep my word? I mean, if they granted my wish, and I don't become super religious?" he worried.

This thought perplexed him, as he had no intention of becoming religious. "Religion is for wimps," he thought. "And fools...only a fool would get involved with something that won't let you rob people, exact revenge, plot crimes..." But, at the same time, if the gods did as he'd asked, what would they do when he broke his word? The gods weren't renowned for their graciousness when crossed...

To distract himself from this puzzler, he decided to go about his first order of business: revenge on Mirabelle Monet. Wilbur could wait, he decided -- Wilbur at least rented him a room, even if he did charge him an arm and a leg, and throw a key into his face. "Anyway," he figured, "no sense ticking him off further while I'm staying in his inn..."

Strolling to the docks at a leisurely pace, Edward wondered how he'd go about exacting revenge. "I could push her into the sea," he thought, adding ill humouredly, "and, with any luck, she'll meet the same fate as my valet."

At that moment, a hand clapped him on the back and an excited voice accosted him. He jumped a good foot into the air, spinning around to face his valet, who was saying, "Sir, you'll never believe my good fortune! I just met someone, Velwyn Benirus, who was selling his ancestral home -- a huge, beautiful manor right here in town, fully furnished -- and he sold it to me for 5,000 septims!"

Edward glared, mentally cursing the gods. Not only had they not answered his prayers, but they'd rewarded his wayward servant!

"Which means, of course, sir, that you won't have to stay in the inn here in Anvil! You can stay at my home!"

Edward brightened at this, but only slightly. While, on the one hand, it was good to save 25 gold a night, on the other hand, it was hard to do so at the cost of yet one more piece of excellent fortune falling into the lap of -- all of people -- his servant.

"Will you come take a look at it, sir?" the excited valet asked. "You'll love it, I'm sure!"

Edward frowned. "No, not now...later," he answered.

"Oh, are you sure?" the other man asked, clearly disappointed.

Feeling somewhat better at his valet's reaction, Edward declared firmly, "Yes, I'm on an important mission!"

"Oh, I see," the valet nodded understandingly. "Out to bring peace and justice to the waterfront?"

Edward shifted uncomfortably. No matter how hard he tried, he still found it difficult to maintain his equanimity when people started speaking of justice. "Umm, yes, something like that," he answered.

His valet nodded approvingly. "I'm glad to hear it, sir...the port is in need of a good cleaning up! Some of the people there...the things they do, and for the most trifling reasons...petty revenge, wounded pride..." He shook his head. "You'd be amazed, sir, at some of these people!"

Edward shifted again, feeling very ill at ease. "Yes, well, I have to get to work..."

"Right you are, sir!" the other man nodded. "I'll go tidy up the new house. Here, I'll show you on your map right where it is, so you can find it easily." With this, he did as he'd said, and then departed.

Edward watched sullenly as his valet departed. He couldn't explain it...no matter how hard he tried, he never seemed to get very far in life...and as bad as that was, to make matters worse, this lowly upstart, this trifling servant, had all the luck! "Oblivion!" Edward thought. "I couldn't have even afforded that house, even if I had been offered it! How does he get the money to do that?" Then a thought struck him. "Probably from his thieving...after the gray fox invited him -- and not me -- to join the thieves guild." His scowl firmly set, Edward felt like crying.

Then, catching sight of a tavern sign, he thought, "I need a drink." Edward pushed open the door of The Flowing Bowl tavern with a shove, and stomped sulkily inside. "A drink," he said to the Bosmer behind the counter, "and make it strong. Very strong."

The publican nodded, handing him a mug of a very foul tasting brew, and Edward took a long draft. At the same time, someone sat down beside him. "Now, what could be bothering a handsome fellow like you so much that you need something that strong?" a soft, sultry voice crooned.

Edward almost jumped out of his seat, spilled the contents of his mug all over the counter and himself, and choked on the mouthful of brew he'd been about to swallow. Gasping, wheezing, soaking wet, stinking of alcohol and very self conscious, he turned to see the speaker. He nearly did a second double take as he saw her. She fit her voice completely, beautiful and a bit tawdry.

"And, as bad as it is, isn't there some way we could make it better?" she asked, apparently not even noticing his series of blunders, or the fact that he was drenched in and reeking of liquor.

Edward tried to speak, but couldn't find his voice. Instead, swallowing hard, he managed to nod his head and smile very stupidly.

"I thought so," she crooned, pressing a key into hand. She leant forward to whisper in his ear. "After 11...at Gweden farmstead, right outside of town. And I'll bring a friend, too..." She smiled. "Save your money, sweetie -- trust me, you won't need any more of this." She pointed at the now empty mug, and winked. Then she got up, swaggered to the door, turned to him as she reached it and said, "Don't you be late now," and then, as suddenly as she'd come, she was gone. Edward blinked, once, twice, and then fell backwards off of his stool.

lol, sorry about that! Glad you're enjoying it, though.

O, o, Rachel the Breton
hast my attention Eaten
with her cunning tricks
Which her writing elicits
She drags me unwilling
arms waving and milling
into her teasing plot
of all the bounder's rot
of that rotter, Edward
who plunges ever Leadward
down one scraqe after 'nother
and creating such a bother
'tis wonder he never dies
and though we ever cry
at his miraculous escapes
which surely tempt the Fates
- Such writing is pure genius
where from premise tenuous
Rachel creates a preposterous
plot of the Imperial cantankerous,
calamitous, contemptible, congenitally
and continually catastrophically confused
- who could to read this story refuse?
Thus far I have read deep
and in laughter I weep
to see such a stinker whimper
with thoughts with nary a glimmer
of wisdom in a mind minuscule
I've a mind to take strong ferule
and whack the bounder's nates
for his astounding japes
and kick the rotter's [censored]
for making such a farce
But...well, if truth be told
this story's hero not bold
with a valet of verbal ballet
hitting like swing of mallet
beguiles the while with laughter and smile
which makes us go that extra mile
to read on. And on. And on
shall we read, for in the creed
of bumbling hero who is butt a zero
we find ourselves e'en as we laugh
and mock the bumbler and stumbler
we, who also are the same number
see ourselves in the mirror
And that's why, better than thriller
is the comedy of manners and errors
We laugh but to drive away terrors.

Foxy the Imp-be-Real.

Another great chapter! (can't type much, a lot of my keyboard is still sticky, lol)

Rachel,

It was the wise urgings of mALX that brought me here. Her admonition regarding my coffee cup: 'Set down before reading Rachel's thread' falls into the category of truer words never spoken.

My goodness! What a light and brilliant style. So very fun to read. I have a giant soft spot for stories that take place within Oblivion, and was delighted to see that as your backdrop.

I'm not accomplished enough as a writer to critique this except to say two things:
1. I like it!
2. I am trying to improve my own use of 'speech tags' and there is much for me to learn from you.

I surely hope you have room, because I am jumpin' on this bandwagon! :tops:

I am starting to doubt who is the valet and who is the (anti)hero

The valet may very well come into possession of a certain cowl in some future chapter I would think

(Thanks everyone for the comments. Acadian, glad you found it, and there's plenty of room, lol -- and many thanks to mALX for suggesting it (hope that keyboard doesn't give you too much trouble, )! As for the tribute, DFoxy, wow, not sure I've earned it, but thanks much, lol. )

When the lure of danger and adventure calls,
When the innocent a protector need,
To see them safely through tempests and squalls,
Then the true hero their pleas shall heed.
-- Ode to the Heroes

Chapter Forty-Six

Edward was at his valet's new home, nursing a bump on his head and bad headache beside the fireplace. He noticed with only fleeting interest that the house, though in need of some minor repairs, seemed to be a very nice one; his mind was focussed on the girl he'd met at The Flowing Bowl. "My valet was right," he thought, "and that's for sure! What am I doing, worrying about Antionetta, when there's gorgeous girls like that out there, who only have to take one look at me and they're smitten?"

Then, another thought occurred to him. Despite the fact that he currently wasn't speaking to his valet, he desperately wanted to reveal his run in with that girl -- whatever her name was. This desire was only heightened in light of his servant's unflattering assessment of Antionetta's feelings for him. He sat lost in thought for several minutes, weighing the pro's -- rubbing his snotty servant's nose in his newfound appeal to the ladies -- against the con's -- acknowledging said snotty servant's existence. Finally, the temptation being too great, he decided on the pro's.

Waiting until his valet came into the room, busy about this chore or that, he declared very nonchalantly, "Oh, by the way, I should tell you...I won't be home tonight."

"Oh, another mission sir?"

Edward smiled. "No, I have a date with a hot woman."

"Come now, sir," his valet chided. "You don't have to lie to me...you know you can trust me not to give away your missions."

Edward's smile turned into a glare. "Lie?" he demanded. "I'm not lying, you stupid servant! I am meeting a hot woman, and her friend! She came up to me -- before I had even noticed her -- and invited me to her place, a little farmstead outside of town!"

His valet stared at him, somewhat stunned by the sharpness of his tone, but more so by his words and the fact that he seemed to believe them. "What was it you were drinking again, sir?" he asked.

Edward's glare intensified. "Who said I was drinking?"

An eyebrow raised, the valet answered, "Only conclusion one can reach, sir, unless you were swimming in alcohol."

Edward flushed. Though his clothes had dried, he still smelled very strongly of his very strong drink. "Someone spilled their drink on me, actually," Edward snapped. He was not technically lying, as someone had indeed spilled their drink all over him; he just neglected to include the fact that that someone was him.

"I see," the valet answered dryly.

"And, just because you have no idea what does and doesn't appeal to the ladies, I'll have you know that I neither hallucinated nor invented meeting her!"

"And she's beautiful?" the valet asked. "And not charging you for the meeting?"

Edward's eyes bulged. That was the last straw! It was bad enough when his servant doubted that he was the babe magnet that he was, but now to imply that he had hooked up with a lady of the night?

"Sorry sir," the valet hastened to say, apparently sensing Edward's fury. "But it just strikes me as highly suspect that a beautiful woman would be...well, interested in you." A second glace at Edward, who felt his blood reaching a boiling point, prompted the other man to hastily add, "I mean before she knows anything about you, of course, sir...before she experiences your charm and wit..."

"My wit and charm," Edward replied through clenched teeth, "radiate forth, so that she doesn't have to talk to me to know what a brilliant, sophisticated man I am."

"Hmm..." his valet murmured thoughtfully, as if to himself more than to Edward, "yes, I'm sure he radiated something, covered in his drink and doubtless tongue-tied or else babbling like an idiot...but sophistication?" Then, an idea seemed to come to the other man, because his expression changed very quickly into one of alarm. "Sir, this might be the gang I've heard rumors of -- a gang that singles out gullible men, and then lures them..."

By now, Edward had had enough. "That's right," he said, his tone dripping with loathing, "it would have to be some sort of mistake, or a gang of criminals, or something like that, for a gorgeous woman to be interested in me. You have to make up some sort of excuse to explain away the fact that she's interested in me, just like you had to make up an excuse to convince yourself that Antionetta isn't crazy about me. You know what, though? Just because you're a jealous nothing who can't stand to see my success, who is envious of my every achievement, nothing changes the facts. You are just a servant, whereas I am a somebody. And you know what else? You're not even a servant anymore...you're a former servant!" He paused to regain his breath, his tone having reached a pitch that was almost painful to the ear. "Because I'm firing you, you worthless, good-for-nothing, half-witted, lame-brained, jealous bag of...of...of minotaur turds!"

His valet blinked at him, too shocked to say anything. Edward turned on his heel, and stormed out of the manor house. The other man stood in place for a few minutes, far too amazed to do anything else. And then he mused aloud, "My gods, he took that the wrong way...I wonder if it was the way I put it..."

:rofl: Well... once again, I'm glad I set my coffee down before reading.

This is so fun! A wonderful short, crisp respite of nonstop laughter.

Brilliant. I shudder to imagine what may happen at Gweden Farm.

Thank you Rachel!

ROFL!!! (choke, choke, sputter) ROFL!!!! (spew) ROFL !!!!

I cannot wait to see how he survives the "hot women". His "abilities" are amazing

Checklist for potential readers of this story:

Remove all beverages from vicinity.

Remove all food items likewise.

Do not handle sharp objects while reading.

Ensure that you are in a location where sustained, frequent laughter is not seen as a sign of insanity.

How to tell you how much I enjoy your work? I could write a book... but there is no need, for you have already done so. Adjectives fail me. Must go and lie down now- I think I pulled a muscle.

( Thanks very much, everyone. Oh, and I love the list treydog! )

Birds singing and twittering all day,
Life goes along its merry way.
Fools causing havoc where ever they stray
Life goes along its merry way.
-- The Song of Edward, verse One
Chapter Forty-Seven


Edward spent the remainder of the afternoon in a very mature manner: getting utterly sloshed at his inn, the Count's Arms, and plotting revenge on his former valet. The business of revenge did not meet with terrible success, as Edward feared that his valet knew too much about his tactics for any attack to work; but the business of getting sloshed went off without a hitch.

When, at last, evening rolled around, a very drunk Edward stumbled out of the inn. Despite a handful of unfortunate run-ins with a few lamposts, a tree, and the town gate, Edward was able to make it outside of Anvil in one piece, and not seriously injured.

He'd found out earlier how to get to Gweden farm, and now he stumbled along the lane in that general direction. The night air was slightly chilly, but it seemed invigorating to him. The urge to sing suddenly came over him, and he found himself wailing boisterously and adding an occasional dance step to his walk, which generally resulted in a near tumble and last minute save barely preventing his face from coming into contact with the road. Yet he kept with it, tripping and screaming all the way down the road.

Finally, he managed to drag himself up a hillside and up to a little farmhouse thereon. Knocking loudly, he sang out boisterously, "I'm here, my beauty! Your Edward has come!"

The door opened, and he stumbled inside. His foot caught on a rug and sent him forward headlong, past the girl he'd met in the tavern and into the floor. He laughed at his own clumsiness, demanding in slurred tones, "Who put the rug there, eh, my beauty?"

The girl rolled her eyes, and said under her breath -- but loud enough for Edward to hear -- "Oh gods, this job gets harder every day..."

Edward picked himself up to a sitting position and nodded drunkenly, although whether he was agreeing or doing a chicken impersonation was less clear than he might have liked. "Farm work can be hell," he said. "And a delicate girl of a flower like you, all by yourself?"

She smiled maliciously at these words. "Not quite alone," she replied.

"Ohhh, that's right!" Edward shouted. The girl grimaced at his tone. "You've got a friend!"

"Yes," she answered with a half smile. "Two of them in fact."

"Well, you picked the right man, then!" Edward declared, laughing very giddily. He tried to push himself onto his feet, but collapsed to the floor again.

"We sure did," the girl answered with a smirk. "Faustina! Tsarrina!" All at once, two other women, one an Imperial and the other a Khajiit, appeared.

Edward smiled stupidly but had a hard time forming a response. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he felt very light-headed.

The dark haired Imperial glanced at Edward, and then turned to the woman who had admitted him. "Signy, he's totally sloshed!"

The lighter haired woman, Signy, shrugged. "Yeah, but who cares?"

"How are we gonna get him the hell out of here when we're done?"

"Oh," Signy responded, seeming crestfallen. "Good point."

Edward blinked, his attention slowing with every passing moment. By now, he had no idea what they were talking about, and was concentrating on a strange phenomenon that he'd just noticed. "Pretty circles," he said. "Where'd they come from?"

The three women stared at him, but he was too busy looking out for the peculiar swirls of light that kept appearing, and vanishing just as he turned to them.

"See?" the dark haired woman asked. "He's totally out of it."

It was then that the light-headedness transitioned into full-blown unconsciousness, and Edward slumped to the floor.

His friends go about their daily business,
They cringe and scurry away,
Ducking and dodging he who is witless
As he goes about his day.
-- The Song of Edward, verse Two

Chapter Forty-Eight

Edward stirred groggily. He was only vaguely aware of a pounding headache, and a strong draft. He blinked, but shut his eyes quickly. "Ye gods!" he thought, "My head! What happened?" His mind presented no answer immediately. "Did I get in a fight?" he wondered. "Have to rush to the rescue of some beautiful damsel in distress or..." He paused, mid-thought, suddenly remembering. "No, I got sloshed." Then more memories assailed his mind, and he asked aloud, "And, speaking of damsels, where is that girl?"

Simply moving his jaws flooded his senses with pain. "Good gods!" he thought. "I didn't drink that much, did I?" After a few moments of contemplation, he acknowledged, "I guess I did...but still...this is unbearable!" It seemed like every tiny sound, the quiet chirping of a beetle, the creaking of his mattress as he shuddered in pain, the creeping feet of an insect scurrying across the floor -- they all stood out like thunder to his sensitive ears.

Then, all of a sudden, a wave of agony swept him as somewhere overhead a tremendous crashing of wood sounded. At the same time, the noise startled him so much that he jumped and opened his eyes. Light washed over him like a tide of bitter agony, and he crashed downwards whimpering in pain. But the noise upstairs did not subside.

"Anvil Guard! You're under arrest!" someone shouted. The words were lost on Edward, but the unbearably loud tone was certainly not. He wrapped his arms around his head and just groaned. The voice upstairs, accompanied by a clashing of weapons and armor, continued, "Put down your weapons!"

More feet continued to thump overhead, and a high voice, that of a woman, called out, "It's no use, girls. They've got us surrounded...give up so they don't kill you!" In response, a terrible clash of weapons dropping on wood, feet stamping, and shrill curses sounded, all together in a grand cacophony of noise.

By this point, Edward was attempting to smother himself with his pillow. He continued with this endeavor as a pair of heavily armored feet stomped their way down the stairs, jingled the handle to the room that Edward was in, and then, as it didn't respond, kicked it open.

"And what have we here, eh?" a booming voice asked. "Well, my lads, looks like we've caught the ringleader!"

Edward remained in his bed, writhing in agony and not even caring what they were talking about -- just that someone was talking.

"Really?" a different, but equally, terribly loud voice asked.

"Yes indeed," the first responded. "I told you this gang had to have a ringleader!"

Then the stomping of boots resumed, tramping closer and closer to Edward. Edward was groaning in pain, wondering why he hadn't seen anyone else in the room in the brief glances he'd had. "It doesn't matter," he thought, "as long as they just get him and get out!"

"Alright my pretty," the loud voice sounded mockingly, so close to Edward that he opened his eyes for a third time. Along with a fresh wave of pain, a wave of surprise swept Edward. There were two guards standing around his bed, on either side of him.

"What's going on?" he asked, his bewilderment getting the better of his pain.

"You're under arrest, that's what!" one guard seemed to bellow. Edward stared at him, stunned. "You didn't think you'd get away with this, did you? Being a sort of crime pimp, here in Anvil? I don't think so!" This said, both men seized him with gauntlet clad hands.

It was then that Edward understood the source of the draft he'd noticed earlier: he had, somehow, been stripped down to his loincloth. What was more, the cold gauntlets made his skin crawl in a strange, ticklish way.

The guards hoisted him to his feet, and prodding him forward with a push, said, "Alright, get moving."

Edward senses were swimming with all the movement, but the cold metal on his bare back was the most prevalent sensation. "Don't do that!" he said, laughing. "I'm ticklish!"

"Move!" the officers prodded again.

Edward, still laughing, pushed back, saying, "Go away, I haven't done anything!" He realized that laughing did nothing for his case, but he couldn't help it...he really was ridiculously ticklish.

Thinking that he is a hero,
Whilst he annoys everyone he knows;
Thinking everyone else is a zero
While his own ineptitude shows.
-- The Song of Edward, Verse Three

Chapter Forty-Nine
Anvil was abuzz with the latest news. Most everyone had seen the three sirens taken to the castle in cuffs, but the real talk of the town was the nearly naked man who had been dragged through the streets toward the dungeon, giggling hysterically.

"He was wearing just a loin cloth, and crying and laughing, all at the same time!" one person said.

"And he had the stupidest laugh," another added.

"Oh yes! Such a ridiculous, high pitched, squealing giggle of a laugh!"

"I thought he was crying," one voice commented. "I saw tears running down his face."

"Yes, and he kept trying to shield his eyes from the sun."

"No, he was just in a stupor of laughter."

"Are you sure? He looked hung over to me."

"No, and anyway, the guard said he was the mastermind behind the gang, sending them out to pick up guys like a pimp, but then him and the women would rob them when they arrived."

A solitary figure listened to this gossip from a distance, looking in turns surprised, worried, and then deeply thoughtful. At last he left the crowd of gossips, and headed for his home. He frowned as he walked. "Could it be Edward?" he wondered aloud. "No, not even he would be stupid enough to get himself in a fix like that..." Then the frown reappeared. "Alright, but how could the guards think that he was the mastermind of anything, much less a successful gang?!"

Certainly, it was a conundrum for our friend, who was, of course, none other than Edward's trusty valet. On the one hand, it seemed like the sort of fix that Edward would get himself into; and on the other, it seemed impossible that the guards would be foolish enough to assume he was a criminal mastermind -- a mastermind of any sort, for that matter. The valet entered his new home, sitting down to stare into the fire for a few minutes and think.

Meanwhile, Edward had been dragged, shrieking with both laughter at being ticklish and protestations of his innocence, all at the same time, to the castle, and promptly thrown into a dungeon. All at once, his laughter had subsided, and his headache and fears been allowed to dominate his mind. "Oh gods," he thought, shivering as the cold, musty dungeon air assailed his body, and his terror assailed his mind. "What am I going to do? Those damn guards didn't even give me any clothes!" He glanced about the cell, his arms pressed close against him to keep warm. He hated just standing barefooted on the floor, afraid to even think what his bare skin might be in contact with; and he absolutely refused to consider sitting or lying down on the dirty old bedroll on the cell floor. For the moment, the only thing he could think of to do was stand there hunched forward, his arms crossed and pressed tight against his chest, alternating standing on first one foot and then the next, his teeth pvssyring.

"Oh Oblivion," he thought, "This is just ridiculous...how do I get myself into fixes like these? And to think that bastard of a valet was right...they were setting me up." Shivering, standing on one foot, and miserable, Edward felt an overwhelming urge to cry come over him. "They're probably going to string me up!" he whimpered. "And I'll never be able to do all the things I wanted to do...get rich, buy a nice, comfortable castle, marry a beautiful girl, keep a few hot mistresses on the side, raise a few kids..." He stopped to frown. He'd always hated kids...why in heaven's name did they come to mind now? "Well, forget the kids...I'll raise horses...lots of beautiful, sleek horses...be able to afford to do some real gambling...exploit the peasant tenants on my land..." His eyes were glistening now as images of the fun he might have had filled his mind. "And, when I died, I could have left my fortune to my children, my own, dear beloved horses, so that I could be assured that they'd live happily after I was gone..." His eyes cleared, and he frowned again. "Scratch that, I would have just spent it all while I was alive, living it up to the max...oh, what a great man I might have been! I might have been a somebody -- and, instead, I'm going to die here, like a poor hunted animal, caged and trapped, naked and shivering, frightened and abused, terrorized and mishandled, ill-used and..."

At that moment, he heard the outer door grate open, and his thoughts were interrupted. He started shaking violently, not from cold, but rather fear. They were coming for him...this was it...his final moments on earth! "And what disgusting, undignified moments they are," he thought tearfully. "Alone in a cold dungeon, no clothes, about to be strung up for a crime I didn't even commit! Of all the ways to go...damn guards couldn't even string me up for something I've done, something great and glorious and truly evil and diabolical...instead, they have to kill me for something I didn't do!"

The tramping of feet recalled him to the present, and he glanced toward the door. Two Anvil guards were visible, and a third man behind them. “Now you sure this scum is innocent?” a gruff voice – that of the first guard – demanded.

“Quite sure,” answered a familiar voice.

Edward couldn't make out the speaker in the dimness, but he knew at once who it was. His valet had come for him! “Thank the gods!” he thought.

“You'll vouch for him?” the second guard asked. They had stopped outside his cell, and Edward could see all three men clearly. “You're sure that this bilge rat is a victim?”

“Quite sure,” the valet repeated.

The first guard sighed. “I don't know...” he thought aloud.

“Look at 'em, Francis...he's pathetic...a sniveling, shivering, whimpering rat...he couldn't head up anything, much less a criminal operation!” the second guard countered.

“Hmm...” Francis mused, his grizzled face twisting in concentration. “You're probably right...and I suppose he'd be the sort that was stupid enough to fall for their tricks.”

“Exactly.”

“And,” the valet interjected – and none too soon, as Edward was about to erupt in indignant protestations, “he is a material witness.”

Francis grimaced in thought, offering up a second thoughtful, “Hmm...”

“I suppose that's true,” the other man agreed.

“Alright then,” Francis declared, “I guess we'll drop the charges. But we'll need his testimony to press charges against them.”

Edward could hardly believe his ears. They were going to set him free! Moments earlier, he had been ready for death...and now he was about to be set free! His first instinct was to shout in sheer joy, but the reality that he was still standing practically naked in a dirty cell restrained him. “Ummm...can I have some clothes?” he asked instead.

Heroes risk their own necks -
And no thanks do they get -
To save him from his own wrecks.
For, surely, he is a git.
-- The Song of Edward, Verse Four

Chapter Fifty

His request for clothes having been granted, Edward was now seated in an office giving his testimony to a guard. That is, he was supposed to be giving his testimony to the guard. As it was, he had decided upon release that he was in no way prepared to cooperate with the authorities after his miserable treatment, and the fact that his property had been confiscated as material evidence. Even when they had told him that he was not leaving the castle until he did so, he was unmoved. So, he was currently seated across from an officer of the law, his nose tilted at an angle nearer perpendicular to the floor than not.

“Permit me to reiterate,” he told the guard, quite condescendingly, “for I've not the slightest compunction in asserting yet again that I have nothing further to declare. This requires no further elucidation on my part, only cooperation on yours. Release me precipitously, and return my falsely appropriated goods expeditiously.”

The guard stared at him. “What?” he asked finally.

Edward sighed an extremely haughty sigh. “My obtuse compatriot,” he spoke, “my prolonged and unprovoked imprisonment in this hellish enclosure has convinced me of the necessity of removing myself from the abominable premises without further delay, lest I am unwittingly subjected to repeated abuses at the hands of the nefarious residents of this less than charming castle.”

The other man just stared at him.

By this time, Edward had had enough. His thin patience had worn away, and even the satisfaction of befuddling this guard proved insufficient at the moment. “Let me go!” he shouted. “Just let me go, you bloody idiot!” This said, he added with a sniff, “Pardon me, that I should use words of such a minor caliber as those that have so bypassed your comprehension. I should have known your cerebral capacity would be insufficient to accommodate an intelligence as inane as mine.”

The guard stared at him, an eyebrow raised. “Inane?”

Edward's cheeks flushed. “Innate!” he snapped. “I said innate...you just...misheard.”

“Oh...I see...well, forgive me sir. However, as you know, I have orders keep you here until you give me your statement.” Edward was clearly about to enter into another tirade, and the guard just as clearly wanted to save himself the pain of wading through vocabulary that was beyond his grasp. “And, there is a reward, as you know for information on these women. So, you would qualify for the reward if you give us your statement.”

This revelation caused Edward to pause. He had been intent on ignoring any and all demands for information...but how could he turn down a reward, after all? “Well,” he said hesitantly, “I suppose I might, for the good of the empire, and all that junk. But on one condition: that I get all of my property back!”

“Fine, fine,” the guard agreed hastily. It was apparent that this man would be willing to do much if it meant getting Edward out of his office.

“Including the amulet,” Edward emphasized.

The other man stared at him quizzically. “Amulet? What amulet?”

Edward glared at him. “You know damned well what amulet, you bastard!” he practically roared. “My amulet, the one those women took from me!”

Blinking at his fury, the guard seemed genuinely perplexed. “Sir, we didn't recover any amulets though.”

Edward groaned. He wanted to disbelieve this man, but he couldn't. His perplexity spoke of truthfulness. And that meant only one thing...his amulet was gone.

This page must be magical or something, because every time I press the 'update' button a new chapter appear
This is just hilarious Keep going!



OH SNAP!

Four chapters! Well, after properly stowing all drinks and loose objects, I began reading.

My intimidation at the volume of new treasures here was quickly replaced by fascination, and all too quickly, finishing them. How can one stop reading this?

Rachel, I'm amazed at your humor and versatility. Thank you for bringing us such a brilliant joy to read!

I waited till you were finished uploading, lol. I knew this situation was going to be ripe for that humor of yours, so stowed all my food and drinks before I opened the page, lol - Awesome!