Jelin's Way of the Crane, is that something that I've missed from TES lore, or is it something that you've created or adapted for use in the story? Either way, it is effective. It is good to see Julian regaining a bit of her former strength. A few more meals at Cloud Ruler Temple should set her to rights.

I continue to enjoy how you are adapting this story which, let's face it, hinges on a pretty ridiculous premise:

The Emperor and all of his heirs are murdered save for one bastard son, and the Grandmaster of the Emperor's bodyguard accepts the word of a convicted felon without question when that felon shows up carrying an amulet which is the only thing that the mortal world can use to stave off the manifestation of Hell on Earth (or Oblivion on Nirn). An amulet that the Grandmaster last saw around the neck of the Emperor he was honor bound to protect. The Grandmaster then charges this felon, without any regard to the felon's capability or whether the felon may have had some hand in the Emperor's death, to retrieve the bastard son so that the son can use the amulet to 'close shut the jaws of Oblivion'. Miraculously, the felon succeeds in this goal only to discover that the Grandmaster dropped the ball and allowed the amulet to be stolen by the first group of cultists to knock at his door.

No wonder the Emperor and all his sons were killed. The amulet would have been safer around the neck of Simplicia the Slow than it was in the care of Jauffre!

Inside, I found Martin and and an armored Blade hunched over mugs of steaming fluid.

It seems that there are one too many 'ands' in this sentence.

Ooh! This was so good! I mean the continuing magic you bring to Cloud Ruler Temple was wonderful, but I really, really enjoyed the second half, where you developed what would be next for Julian. This was sooo well done between the external and internal dialogues spiced with descriptions of activity.


How neat was this!?!

Oh, and thanks for the yummy morning grub! :liplick:

I am looking forward to seeing Baurus again. He is one of my favorite NPCs.


"You're not as gaunt and sickly as you were when I first met you over sevendays ago."
Did you mean seven days instead of sevendays? I ask because I suppose you could have meant something archaic like the term tenday perhaps, but I suspect a pesky space simply escaped.

Can you fill it with men too? ROFL !!!


"The Way of the Crane" - sounds like the "Way of the Exposed Palm" - which also teaches about concentration, reaction, equiplibrium, speed, breath control, and discipline.

Awesome write !!!!!

hauteecole rider, I started reading the first thread a long time and got side tracked. I remembered liking it, and then I saw this thread, so came back to read more...wow! I'm very impressed. I've still got a lot to catch up on, but I am really enjoying this story -- great work!!!!

@ All wondering about the Way of the Crane, taught to Julian by her second pilus in the Legion, it is nothing more than tai chi. I figured it was most useful for characters rehabilitating from serious injuries or illness, as a way to regain strength, balance and coordination. Julian does know other more strenuous disciplines, and will be resuming them as she gains strength and agility. Not in the Lore, sorry. :shrug:

@Rachel: I'm glad to see you on this, and happy that you are enjoying things so far. I really look up to your comedy writing - it's inspired! I had to resist having Jauffre dig graves and place heads around Weynon Priory in my fic! The entire time I was writing that chapter, that's all I could imagine in my mind's eye! I believe you own Friar Jauffre! :icecream:

Nothing much happens in this chapter, just the sheer exhilaration of a fast ride down the mountainside and wandering thoughts. Something nice and quiet before things pick up again. Enjoy.

*************

Chapter 6.5 On the Road Again

Stepping out onto the plaza, I caught Fortis's wave as he ducked Pelagius's charge. Waving back, I started for the stable, my limp barely slowing me down. My heart felt heavy, unable to shake the feeling that I was abandoning Martin. Don't be an idiot. These Blades will keep him safe. Somehow I couldn't bring myself to believe it.

My path intersected Captain Steffan's patrol. He slowed his stride to match mine, looking down at me from beneath his helm. "How have you settled in here at Cloud Ruler Temple, Julian?"

"Wishing I didn't have to leave already," I responded truthfully. "The place is warm inside, and the company even warmer, sir." Studying the Hall of Blades, with its distinctive roof line, I shook my head. "This fortress is amazing - unlike any I've ever seen."

"Aye, she's a beauty, isn't she?" Steffan said, fondness clearly evident in his rough voice. "It's hard not to admire the stonework. That's some real craftsmanship."

"I'm no judge," I admitted, "but I noticed there is no mortar visible in the joints."

"That's because there isn't any," Steffan stated. "You can't fit a knife blade between the stones, they're so tightly laid." He gazed proudly around the plaza. "You can travel all of Cyrodiil, nay, all of Tamriel, and never find anything better built than Cloud Ruler Temple."

"For now, I'll take your word for it, Captain," I replied. Pausing outside the stable, I shifted my pack over my shoulder, looking back at the Hall. "Martin will be safe here, won't he, Captain?" I gave voice to my worry.

Steffan's blue gaze, as intensely blue as the sky behind his head, held mine for long seconds. Then he looked away, breathing deeply. "There was a time when I would have assured you of it," he said quietly. "But after what has happened -" He turned back to me, his eyes and rough voice hard. "But I promise you, there isn't a single Blade here who won't die protecting the Emperor."

"Thank you, Captain," I said finally. "I believe you." I did. That worry had eased quite a bit with his words and tone. "Until we meet again, sir."

"Farewell, Julian," Steffan nodded at me. "Keep your eyes open and your heart true." He turned from me and resumed his patrol.

"I have Paint ready for you," Roliand appeared in the doorway of the stable, Paint in tow.

"Thanks," I said to the tall Nord, hanging my pack from the cantle ring. I checked the bow and the Kvatch Wolf, still attached to the saddle. Patting Paint on his crested neck, I took the rein from Roliand.

"Come on, I'll give you a leg up," he said, putting his hands together beside Paint's girth. "Put your left knee in my hands, and I'll boost you up."

Hesitating only a moment, I did as he said. Taking the pommel in my hand, I looked down at him. "Ready, Julian?" he asked me. I nodded.

Then I was flying upward, and barely kept the presence of mind to swing my right leg over the cantle before I started returning to earth. Thanks to Roliand's steadying grip on my left knee, I managed to make a soft landing on Paint's back. Breathless, I looked down at his laughing grin.

"That was on purpose, wasn't it?" I commented dryly.

"You're in the saddle now, sister," he returned, clapping my left knee. Stepping back, he saluted me, fist to chestplate. "May your sword always strike true."

Chirruping to Paint, I guided him toward the stone stairs leading down to the tall gates. He walked down the steep steps without hesitation, sure-footed and confident. Recalling that he was mountain-born and -bred, I realized that difficult terrain was easy for him. Remembering the other horses' more slender limbs, I felt grateful for Paint's sturdy bones.

We reached the tall gates and walked through. I patted Paint's neck fondly as he stepped onto the mountain road. I'm glad Prior Maborel gave you to me. He tossed his head, as if agreeing with my thoughts, and his back rounded up beneath me.

Wondering what it was he wanted to do, I eased up on the reins. With no further prompting from me, Paint bounded into a wonderful, rocking canter down the steep mountain road. The sheer exhilaration of our rapid descent took my breath away, and my heart pounded as I took hold of the high pommel with my right hand.

After a couple of strides, I relaxed into the rocking motion of Paint's back, keeping my legs quiet at his sides. Paint slowed a little when we reached the bottom of the slope, but did not break out of the canter as he took the sharp bend. He followed the road towards the North Gate, and faltered only when we approached the fork where the path wound along the city walls. I leaned the rein against the right side of his neck, and Paint smoothly glided left to take the path. His body shifted under me as he took the curves in stride.

Reveling in his powerful canter, I did not stop as we neared the East Gate, only steered the gelding onto the Silver Road. His hooves pounded the cobblestones rhythmically as we followed the road. He did not slow down to a walk until we reached the junction of the Orange and Silver Roads. Blowing hard, he tossed his head and bounced a little, as if to say, well, that was fun, haven't done that in a long time.

His obvious pleasure made me laugh out loud, even though my eyes automatically scanned the area around us for enemies. The sunlight cascaded warmly around us, and the air grew warmer as we continued onto the southern half of the Silver Road. As Paint settled into a marching walk, I looked up and noticed the vista opening up before us, anchored by the White Gold Tower. It fascinated me, that I could look almost directly down into the Imperial City from the heights in the Jeralls.

That's the mark of the Ayleids, I mused. They built their cities to be visible for miles, as a way to assert their dominance over their slaves. How hard was it for Alessia's forces to capture that city? How long did they besiege it before it fell? How many warriors died taking it?

The snow faded into green grass and blooming shrubs. Trees changed from towering pines and aspens to spreading beech and oak. The air grew softer, milder. Our breaths became invisible. Bird song changed, from the chirping of sparrows and the croaking of ravens, to the melodies of larks and the laughter of jays. Butterflies became larger and more colorful. Scents rose on the warming air, the scents of honeysvckle and wild roses, rich loam and animal dung.

And Cloud Ruler Temple, who built that? It is so different, so unique. I've never seen anything like it. Maybe Captain Steffan is right, there's nothing else like it. I should ask him more about it. I liked looking at buildings, identifying the different styles. I had already noticed the regional variation within Cyrodiil itself, much as I had found it elsewhere during my postings. Yet Cloud Ruler Temple followed its own rules. How did they get those massive stone blocks up that steep mountainside? How did they get stones fitted so tightly that mortar is unneeded? And where did they find such massive timbers for the framing?

"Well, Paint," I said, rubbing the gelding's coarse mane affectionately. "I guess we'll never know, won't we?" He just flicked an ear back at me without faltering in his stride.

That was a fun ride down the mountainside! I really admire your ability to show the personalities of the horses. You make them characters as much as the people are, as they should be.

"You can travel all of Cyrodiil, nay, all of Tamriel, and never find anything better built than Cloud Ruler Temple."
Teresa would argue that Nerussa is better built...


Nits:
I believe this ought to be just Fortis'
I caught Fortis's wave as he ducked Pelagius's charge.

You have a beautifully creative style that fleshes out a world I already thought was rich in detail.

I've never had a character that threw themselves into the main Quest. Severus was contemptuous of Jauffre but placed himself in the service of the Blades for the sake of the greater good. Sarrah resented Jauffre's lack of peer respect and refused to join the Blades. Nevertheless, she did pursue furthering the quest and was very close to the endgame when she died. Angel was too terrified by the situation to even pursue the MQ until she was so settled into her own life that it faded into the background. She has even been known to spend hours cloaked in chameleon raptly observing the beauty and power of an Oblivion gate. After seeing Martin to Cloud Ruler she simply left to try and create her own destiny.

I said all that to say this, everyone has a unique perspective and I am thoroughly enjoying your take on the role of 'Hero'.

- this is so real, I loved this line because it is exactly what they do when you talk to them while out riding - brings back some good memories !!! Awesome write, as usual !!!!!

You covered some ground here - literally! Nicely done. :goodjob:

Your treatment of horses is great fun to read.


I thought this did a beautiful job of capturing the elevation induced changes.


A tiny nit perhaps?
"I'm no judge," I admitted, "but I noticed there are {is?} no mortar visible in the joints."
"That's because there aren't {isn't?} any,"

The details you used to subtly take us down the mountain are superb!


Actually either one is correct. Fortis's are for those of us (myself included) who tend toward the anol.

@all: Glad all of you enjoyed the ride down the mountainside! Horseback riding is fun, with moments of sheer terror!

@SubRosa: And Julian's response to Teresa's comeback: "Well, if you're going to go there, there's always - uhh, ahem, never mind." *blushes, as only a Redguard can blush*

@bobg: That, Master Po (if I may be allowed to call you that), is the beauty of this forum. Each of us bring something different to the main quest, and the main quest brings out different responses in each of us. Just like art. It's all in the eye of the beholder.

@mALX1: thanks for noticing Paint's responses to Julian's conversation. Horses kind of fall between dogs and cats that way - they don't jump all over you at the sound of your voice like many dogs do, yet they do more to acknowledge your words than a simple opening and closing of one eye like all sleeping cats do.

@Acadian: That darn verb tense gremlin again! Thanks for catching it, I do think you're right. It feels much better the other way.

@Destri: The way Beth conveys the changes in altitude as well as latitude and climate is one of the amazing things about the game, and something I always notice when traveling around the beautiful land called Cyrodiil.

For both SubRosa and Destri, this is what I learned too many years ago about possessive (obsessive?) apostrophes; when following a singular pronoun that ends in 's' (Fortis, Pelagius, etc), a second 's' is added (Fortis's, Pelagius's); when following a plural pronoun (horses, knights, etc), no second 's' is placed (horses', knights'). I double-checked with the Blue Book of Grammar.

The next chapter describes an encounter with a Legion rider. Being Legion herself, Julian always tries to keep on their good side. Makes life (and traveling) so much easier . . .

************************
Chapter 6.6 Marc Atellus

The sounds of combat reached us as we approached the white arches of an Ayleid ruin to the left, where the Silver Road joined the Red Ring Road. Spotting a Legion bay standing in front of the ruin, near the road, I stopped Paint next to him and dismounted, collecting the shield from the cantle. Drawing my katana, I followed the sounds into the ruins.

Within a damaged colonnade, I found the tents of a camp, and two men in heavy armor battling a Legion rider, arrows bristling in his steel plate. The twanging of a bowstring to my left drew my attention to a catwalk around the colonnade. Oblivious to my presence, a red-haired Imperial archer notched another arrow to her weapon. Climbing onto a broken column nearby, I stepped onto the springy boards of the catwalk. She caught my approach and dropped her bow in time to draw her dagger. Not wasting any time, I charged her as swiftly as my bum knee would let me.

While I had the advantage with the longer reach of my katana, she was quick, and well armored with a steel cuirass. Ducking my first swing, she closed in with her dagger swooping low. Skipping back out of its arc, I tapped her in the back of her bare head with the hilt before she could draw away. Staggering, she somehow kept her feet and retreated a couple of steps.

In the corner of my eye, I saw the rider fell one of the two marauders he faced, and take a heavy blow on his shoulder from the remaining fighter. In front of me, the woman made her charge, but I stepped to my right, deflecting her weapon on my shield. As she stumbled past me, I stabbed the tip of my blade into her side, between the front and back of her cuirass. She groaned as I pulled the sword out, her dagger skittering away off the catwalk as she fell. Just to be certain, I stabbed her exposed throat.

Jumping down to the ground, flexing my good knee to absorb the shock of my landing, I hobbled toward the two men still battling it out. The Nord towered over me, his bare head higher than my own. Aiming lower, I slashed the katana across the exposed backs of his knees. When he staggered and dropped to his knees, the horseman's blade flashed across the marauder's exposed throat. As the Nord dropped with a clatter of steel plate, I locked eyes with the rider.

Seeing the distrust in the other's eyes, I quickly sheathed my katana. "Are you hurt, sir?" I asked breathlessly. He inhaled deeply, taking a wary look around before sheathing his sword. Not answering my question, he started yanking arrows out of his steel plate in disgust. When he pulled on one embedded in his left greave, he caught his breath. Limping over to the broken column I had used previously, he half-sat, half leaned against it, dropping his shield with a clatter. Following him, I took a closer look at the wound. Blood seeped through the quilted underpinning of the steel plate, around the shaft of the arrow.

"My name is Julian," I offered. "May I help you, sir?"

"Just pull it out," he growled between clenched teeth. Lowering my shield to the ground, I knelt next to him. Placing my left hand against the padding around the arrow, I gripped the shaft in my right.

"Count to three, sir," I said.

"One, OW!" he bellowed as I yanked the arrowhead out. Leaning against the arch behind him, he groaned, "Oh, frick, what happened to two?"

Slipping out my dagger, I cut away the padding around the wound, carefully picking out the fibers that had embedded into the flesh with the arrowhead. Using my left hand to keep pressure on the gash, I groped beneath the leather cuirass for some of the red wool from the assassin's robe. Folding it down, I pressed it against the injury, tying the long ends around his thigh. He looked at me as I leaned back.

He had removed his helm, and his craggy, weathered face registered pain. His grey eyes considered me in appraisemant. Returning his regard, I found him to be about my own age, though he still had strength and agility to spare in his movements.

"I'm surprised you would help me, ma'am," he remarked, still breathing hard. Wiping the sweat from his face, he locked gazes with me again. "Not that I'm ungrateful, mind."

"Why wouldn't I help you, sir?" I rose to my feet and reached into my belt pouch. "After all, we both serve the Emperor."

The last vestiges of distrust faded from the horseman's eyes, to be replaced by sadness. "We did," he corrected. "Now we serve no one."

Not I - I serve the Emperor still. "But isn't the Emperor more than just the man?" I asked, drawing out a vial of healing potion. "Isn't the Emperor an idea, too, the idea of empire, an empire of peace and prosperity?"

He tilted his head thoughtfully at me, scrubbing at his bristled salt-and-pepper scalp. "Odd hearing such talk from a Redguard," he muttered. Silently, I handed him the potion. Smiling suddenly, his grey eyes warmed at me. "Thanks for helping me, ma'am. I would have been hurt much worse had you not come along and finished that archer for me." He gave me a loose salute, brushing his right fist against his chestplate. "Marc Atellus, at your service." He uncorked the vial and gulped down the vile liquid.

"Hey, us Legion soldiers have to stick together, don't we?" I returned his smile as he handed the vial back to me.

"You're Legion?" his eyes sharpened at me. "Carrying a Kvatch Wolf," he pointed at my shield, "and, if I'm not mistaken, an Akaviri katana?"

"Well, I was discharged a few years ago," I admitted. "But old habits die hard, sir." Leaning down, I picked up the shield and slid it onto my left forearm. "I got this for assisting the Kvatch Guard."

His gaze darkened. "Terrible news, that," he muttered. "The whole town destroyed, overrun by daedra."

Still winded, I leaned against an upturned stone block next to Atellus. "Not anymore, sir." I remarked, avoiding his stare.

"So that's how you assisted the Guard?" Now Atellus regarded the hilt of the katana at my side. "May I see that blade, Julian?" he asked, addressing me by name for the first time. "I've seen them, but never handled one."

Hesitating, I saw only open curiosity on the rider's face. Drawing the katana, I handed it to him, hilt first. Hefting the blade thoughtfully, he swished it experimentally through the air. Its song was almost audible from where I sat. Flipping the weapon, he caught the blade in his gauntleted hand and extended the grip back to me.

"Thanks, ma'am," he said. "Pretty light, but that blade looks wicked keen. I'm told it keeps its edge better than our own silver longswords," slapping his own hilt for emphasis. "What did you do to get an Akaviri katana?"

Sheathing the sword, I glanced sidelong at him. "Assisted the Blades, sir," I answered after a moment. Atellus rubbed at the stubble along his jaw.

"Is there anyone you didn't assist?" he remarked, his tone deceptively casual. I pointed at the marauders.

"Them, sir," I responded. Atellus guffawed loudly, clapping me on the shoulder, nearly knocking me off my block.

"Ach, you're all right," he grinned at me. Then his smile faded into somberness. "The Blades were supposed to protect the Emperor. They failed." Biting my tongue against the inclination to defend Baurus and the others, I kept silent. "That's not to say the Legion would have fared better," Atellus added softly. Looking over at the dead marauders, I eyed their armor.

"Lowest scum," Atellus had caught my gaze. "But good source of heavy armor, if you can kill 'em for it."

I slapped my own cuirass. "No, thanks, sir, I like Batul gra-Sharob's work too well."

Again that hearty guffaw. Atellus rose, careful of his injured leg. Putting some weight on it, he grinned at me. "Just a flesh wound, it'll heal in a heartbeat."

Regarding him thoughtfully, I reached into my belt pouch again. "Do you have any more healing potions, sir?" He shook his head.

"Nay, I used the last of it up by Fingerbowl Cave, and haven't had a chance to resupply." His eyes lit up when I handed him my last two vials. "By the Nine, you would share your healing potions?"

"I don't have the willpower to cast a convalescence spell on you yet," I answered dryly. "Though I'm told that with a little practice on myself, I ought to be able to."

Drinking down the potions and handing me back the empty vials, Atellus studied my face. Gesturing at my left cheek, he grinned. "There's some practice right there. That archer got you with her dagger, it seems."

My fingertips felt the blood where he had indicated. "I didn't notice," I muttered, quickly casting a healing spell on myself.

"Aye, the way you fight," Atellus's tone took on an admiring note, "you wouldn't notice anything so slight. You have more grievous wounds that hurt like the dikeens, the way you move." He started out of the camp. Rising to my feet, I trailed him back to the horses. "I'm headed to Roxey Inn," he continued, waving eastward. "Are you going that way, ma'am?"

"No, sir, I'm headed to the Imperial City," I answered, picking up Paint's rein and leading him to one of the interminable blocks scattered around the ruin. "I think I'm going west."

Atellus mounted his horse slowly, with some effort. Letting his breath out slowly, he waited until I had clambered onto Paint. "I've cleared the road as far as Aleswell," he pointed up the hill to the west of us. "Nice inn there," he frowned at a sudden thought, "though I haven't seen anyone there for a while. I'm starting to hear stories from travelers that the place is haunted. Don't make sense, though," he added that last to himself. Grinning at me, he gave me a casual Legion salute. "Travel safe, and by the Nine, stay on the roads!"

"All right, Atellus, I will," I answered.

"And thanks again, Julian, for your unexpected assistance!" he called back as we parted ways.

Woo Hoo !!! A maaaan! Awesome write, Julian is getting more used to feeling comfortable around the Legion again! (or is that flirting? Lol !!)

You did another wonderful job depicting the 3 vs 2 fight. Very well done!

Now that said, I found what followed even more enjoyable to read - it became a beautifully comfortable scene between the two old soldiers healing up after the fight.

Your ending makes me wonder if Julian will investigate Aleswell. . . .


Ah, once again we are graced with reference to the story's title. Yay!


Yup. That's our Julian!!! I loved this!


Nit?
"I don't have the willpower to cast a convalescence spell you you yet," I answered dryly.
You might swap the first 'you' for 'on'.

I agree with the others. Your description of horses is superb! The flicking of his ears, the run down the hill, it all makes the animal really come alive! And then the scene with the "fellow" legionnaire and his interest in the sword! Oh Yeah!

Small error here: "I don't have the willpower to cast a convalescence spell you you yet," I answered dryly. Should have been "on" I guess.

I seem to remember an old movie watching game where you stand and applaud anytime the title of a story is mentioned in the story, so . . . :clap:

I wonder if the encounter with Marc Atellus (good name!) was a way for you to set up Julian's investigation of Aleswell. If that is the case, then it worked beautifully.

Somehow I think we will hear from the old soldier again.

I finally had the time to read. Another good installment.

I think what is standing out here are the basics of how you write your combat scenes. Julian is using a katana, and knows not to try to slash or hack at someone wearing steel armor (which katana's are not made to fight against). Instead we see her stabbing at the joints in the briastplate, and later slashing at an exposed area. Many less experienced writers would have her katana hacking through the marauder's briastplates as if they were butter, or stabbing them all the way through to the crossbar and effortlessly withdrawing the sword a moment later, etc... It is good to see such attention paid to the realities of weapons and armor. :toughninja:

Edit: *Sees D Foxy's comment* You mean the Grey Fox helped her? ^_^ Capital!

... courtesy of... say, a Fox?

@mALX: Flirting?? When Julian flirts, she gets right to the point! This is more a case of two old soldiers sharing healing potions after combat! And yes, she is comfortable with the riders. The City Watch, well that's another story . . . :shrug:

@Acadian: I think you have the right view of the conversation between Julian and Marc Atellus. Alas, Aleswell will have to wait a while longer. However, it is a situation ripe for comedy, and I will not resist putting Julian into that position! Expect the type of humor you see in Teresa's or Buffy's fiction, rather than the satirical kind Rachel the Breton is famous for, or mALX's slapstick.

@RemkoNL: Thanks to you and Acadian for catching that wayward 'and!' As for Atellus asking to see Julian's katana, that was based on the memory of my dad and two of my uncles (all Korean War vets) talking about guns on more than one occasion. Soldiers are the same, no matter where they are or what weapons they use. They're always interested in the pros and cons of different weapons systems. I figured this was a good place to showcase that soldier's tendency. :gun:

@Destri: Thanks for the applause! I will be sure to beg for more in future chapters, just to keep you on your toes! I'm glad you liked Marc Atellus. He has become one of my favorites of the Legion riders - cheerful, joking, but deadly serious in combat. We will definitely see more of him in future chapters.

@SubRosa: I'm glad my combat scenes are passing muster. I know how hard it is to get a necropsy knife through skin; I also know how often I had to stop to sharpen said knife! Considering the katana is a glorified necropsy knife, I think expecting it to cut through steel plate or even chainmail is a bit unrealistic. But also, to give credit where credit is due . . . :toughninja:

@D.Foxy: many thanks to "Of Blades, Fights and Assassins" - it has proven invaluable in writing what I feel are realistic fight scenes. :trophy:

Now Julian confronts her worry about whether or not she will be recognized as the brawling drunk that got herself kicked out of the City, only to be arrested in Weye and thrown into the Prison. She also sees the City through sober eyes for the first time.

*********************
Chapter 7.1: A Walk Through the City

Leaving Paint with Merowald in Weye, I limped across the Great Bridge and trudged up the steep road to the Imperial City entrance. A Watch soldier met my gaze, and I saw recognition in his eyes.

"Hello, Julian," he greeted me. "That was a nice thing you did for Merowald, ma'am." The Watch soldier I met at the Wawnet Inn.

"It was the least I could do, since he took such good care of Paint," I answered. "I know next to nothing about horses, and that was my first day in the saddle."

His eyebrows lifted under the steel helm. "Really?" he remarked. "Could've fooled me." He tilted his head at the open gates just behind him. "Business in the City?"

"Yes, sir." Looking up at the massive portal, I nodded. Here goes nothing. Either I get thrown into jail, or I find Baurus.

"See you around, Julian," the Watch soldier said, his eyes already moving over the traffic moving in and out of the City. Turning back to the gates, I let the flow carry me within the white walls.

Moving to the curb, I paused to take a look around. Ahead, wide steps led up to a circular colonnade which sheltered a rearing dragon. Tall mansions surrounded the statue, their ornate facades complementing the style of the rotunda, their bronze doors gleaming in the late afternoon light.

The smell of stone dust, sun on lichen, the sweat from numerous bodies assailed my nose after the clean air on the road. Heat shimmered off the pavements and marble walls, overcoming the slight lake breeze that crept in the open gates.

Voices and footsteps swirled between the buildings and crested along the high walls like the high tide running through the coastal chimneys of my childhood in Anvil. High Rock, Skyrim, Wrothgarian accents competed with myriad other dialects I didn't recognize. Street urchins and ragged Khajiits darted through the chaos.

Stop gawking like a country bumpkin, Julian, I told myself. It's not like it's the first large city you've ever been in. Looking for someone I could ask for directions, I locked gazes with a Watch soldier, his plate armor adding to the commotion as he clanked toward me. My heart started pounding, and my palms collected all the moisture from my mouth. Please, Akatosh, let him be going somewhere else. He stopped in front of me, his gaze traveling from my white hair to the Kvatch Wolf on my left arm to my dusty boots. Forcing myself to breathe deeply, I ignored the voice in my head screaming Run! and held my ground.

His level gaze returned to mine, containing only a neutral alertness. His sword remained sheathed at his side. "Good day, ma'am," he said, his quiet voice carrying well in the babble of the street. "What brings you to the Imperial City?"

"I've been traveling all day, sir," hoping the nerves I felt didn't show in my voice, I answered as quietly. "I've been told that Luther Broad's Boarding House is a good place to stay, but I don't know where it is."

"That's in the Elven Gardens District, ma'am," he responded. "You're in the Talos Plaza District." He pointed at the tall dragon statue in the center of the round piazza ahead. "Turn left at the Dragon, follow Talos Way. Go through the gates at the end, you'll be in the Elven Gardens then. Continue down Garden Way, that's what the main street is called there, to the center. You'll find Luther's on the left hand side at the intersection with Home Street."

"Thanks, sir," I nodded, recalling that the Imperial City was laid out like a wheel.

"You'll find Luther's to be comfortable," he assured me, before turning to the Watchmen standing near the gates in the outer wall. Stifling a sigh of relief, I headed toward the plaza.

Diving back into the traffic, I trudged up the steps to the towering statue of Akatosh. Turning left at the open rotunda, I identified Talos Way by its gentle curve and started northward. The daylight faded fast, brought on by the overcast gathering above. The air grew more oppressive, more humid. Around me, the streetlights began glowing, set alit one by one. Pausing to watch it, I saw a petite Breton woman, clad in a mage apprentice robe, cast a pinpoint flare at a lantern. The glowing flame settled within its iron cage and grew into a snapping, crackling torch fire that filled the entire fixture. She caught me watching and smiled, not pausing in her task.

Limping along Talos Way, I spotted the open gates that divided the two quarters. The traffic of people trickled away, and I realized that the dinner hour was upon us. It was full dark by the time I reached the gates and passed through, avoiding the gazes of the Watchmen standing guard on either side of the portal.

"It's going to storm," one guard was saying to his counterpart on the other side of the portal. "I can feel it in my joints."

"You can feel everything in your joints," the other growled back. "I think it's just your rhoomatik talking."

"And my rhoomatik knows everything," the first shot back. He caught my involuntary glance as I walked past. "Ma'am."

Pausing as I regarded the weathered face of the older Watch, the boyish visage of the other, I couldn't resist the repartee. "Actually, my nose says it's going to storm," I added, laying my finger along my thrice-broken appendage. "I can smell it."

The younger Watchman grumbled something about old folks as I winked at the weathered face and continued on. They don't recognize me, or they don't care, as long as I don't make any trouble. Smiling to myself, I continued deeper into the Elven Gardens.

The air here was softer, less oppressive, the buildings set back from the streets. Small gardens fronted each residence, smaller than those in the Talos Plaza, but still ornate in their decorations and design. The doors here were clad in copper, rather than the bronze of the more wealthy district, but still beautiful with that distinctive verdigris patina. Lush roses, fragrant jasmine, and showy morning glory climbed the lower levels of the residences, while perky primroses bloomed alongside the curb.

Dark green magnolias and brilliant red dwarf maples arched over the street and stood guard beside the stoops leading to those verdigris copper doors. In spite of the overcast, the atmosphere of the district was inviting, clean, and cheerful.

Ahead, triple-armed streetlamps marked the center of the district, casting a warm yellow light on the surrounding plantings. On one corner, a sign above a large double door announced The King and Queen Tavern. Across the smaller Home Street, Luther Broad's Boarding House topped a single green-patinaed door. The rain started falling as I crossed the street and opened the door.

What a DELIGHTFUL pause in the action that moves the story along in a wonderfully calm manner. I loved it! Allow me to use your own words:

Wonderful idea given the rumored dietary habits of those running the stables in the big city! :liplick:

The hustle and bustle, so elegantly and concisely captured!

What a wonderfully clever idea of filling in something that the game doesn't really address! About time those apprentices over at the University started earning their keep!

I am swooning over your lavish description here - wow! I'm a svcker for perky primroses.

As always, I simply adore Julian's interactions and observations. :goodjob:


Please accept these comments as simply subjective thoughts:

"See you around, Julian," the Watch soldier said, his eyes already moving over the traffic moving in and out of the gates. Turning back to the gates, I let the flow carry me within the white walls.
You sometimes have just the teensiest tendancy to repeat words in close proximity to each other. Would you consider something closer to:
'See you around, Julian," the Watch soldier said, his eyes already scanning the traffic moving in and out of the city. Turning back to the gates, I let the flow carry me within the white walls.'

The smell of stone dust, of sun on lichen, of the sweat of numerous bodies assailed my nose after the clean air on the road.
Similarly here. Now if your repetition of the word 'of' is intentional for effect, please foregive and ignore me. Otherwise, you might consider something like this: 'The smells of stone dust, sun on lichen and sweat from numerous bodies assailed my nose after the clean air of the road.'

The traffic of people were trickling away,
I'm not a master of grammar, but it seems that 'were' is applying to the word traffic (not people, per se). Traffic was trickling away. People were trickling away. I believe here that people is describing the traffic and the verb applies to the word traffic in this case. anol observations of a crazy language, eh?

Awesome Write, too many great parts to quote! I would spam your thread if I tried !!!!

I think Julian's days as a rowdy drunk and skooma addict are officially behind her. However, I'm sure she hasn't seen the inside of her last jail cell yet. I found myself holding my breath with her when the Watch soldier walked over. If he had reached for his sword. . .


I thought this description was brilliant, at least up until the very last word. It might just be me, but 'hubbub' seems out of place here. It's not that I don't think it belongs in the Elder Scrolls universe. It's more that I think it smacks as a bit out of character, especially considering Julian's comfort with using phrases like 'verdigris patina'. I know that she has lived a great portion of her life as a soldier, but there seems to be something in her that holds herself slightly apart from the rank and file. I know I'm not explaining myself adequately. Suffice it to say that 'hubbub' momentarily took me out of your story, before your next sentence pulled me back in.

I like the fact that Julian finds herself wondering if she will be thrown into prison when she returns to the IC. She still is an escaped prisoner after all. Unless someone like Jauffre or Baurus cleared that up while she was off on His Majesty's Secret Service. Perhaps she should have disguised herself by dyeing her hair? Red is a good color... For a moment I thought the legionary who came up to talk to her might have been Volsinus!. But your legionary was far too nice...

I do not know for sure, but I think the dragon statue in the Talos Plaza is supposed to be Akatosh. It is in the same pose that Martin/Akatosh is in after the Main Quest ends, and looks exactly the same (it might be the same model, just scaled down).

She is staying at Luther's I see. Is she going there for the broads? I hear he has the best in the Imperial City working there!

I thought the lamplighter was an excellent touch. I also especially loved your description of the Elven Gardens is being so, well, garden-like.

Like above, I loved the little detail into the streetposts. I kinda figured they would be lit magically.
This sentence stood out to me.

I really liked that!

@Acadian: Thanks for catching those pesky nits. I'm glad you enjoyed the perky primroses. I relished writing of Julian's walk through the City. :dance:

@mALX1: Thanks! For the compliment, that is, not necessarily for not spamming my thread!

@Destri: Thanks for sharing Julian's trepidation about that Watchman! If he had said "Stop, you're breaking the law!" she would have bolted! :bolt:

And yes, Julian may walk like a soldier, talk like a soldier, fights like a soldier, but she thinks like something entirely different. Thanks for the catch - it's been fixed to more appropriately reflect her mind.

@SubRosa: It's interesting that I thought it was the statue of Akatosh, yet it is in Talos Plaza. Then just this morning I read a bit of lore that said that Nords see Tiber Septim (Ysmir) as a dragon. Makes me go hmmmm. Anyway, Akatosh is sometimes referred to as The Dragon, so I thought that was a rather everyday way to refer to that statue. As for dyeing her hair, it won't occur to Julian until later that it might be a good idea . . . But by then it's too late . . . As for Luther's broads, well, the next chapter has one, and I'll let you be the judge. :shrug:

@RemkoNL: Thanks! :twirl:

Things start to pick up again, as Julian finds her first friend in her new life. And yes, there is a broad in Luther's.

******************
Chapter 7.2 Finding Baurus

Stepping into the warm interior, I paused to look around. The large common room contained comfortable chairs and benches around tables of varying sizes, most of them occupied by small groups of patrons. Animated conversations, punctuated by laughter, added to the cheerful atmosphere. The bar, set in the back next to a flight of stone stairs headed up to a second floor, had few open stools, the rest taken up by patrons in varying stages of drinking.

The dour Breton man was seated by himself in the rear corner opposite the bar, reading a book. He stood out like a minotaur in a crockery shop. Looking away from him, I eyed the patrons. A few Redguards were sprinkled through the gathering. Wondering how to recognize the man I sought, I found myself looking for the distinctive blue and brass armor of the Blades. Don't be silly, Julian. Baurus wouldn't be information gathering in armor. But how would I know him? I've never seen him out of armor, without his helm.

A buxom serving-lass, cleavage emphasized by a tight-laced bodice, wove her way between the tables, pausing to empty her tray of ale-glasses with a group of three men, and stopped before me. A winsome smile on her rosy lips belied the canny eye she cast at me. "Table or bar?" she asked, pitching her voice to be heard over the constant cacophony.

Looking at the bar again, I spotted an empty seat next to a burly Redguard. I couldn't be certain, but I thought I saw the glimmer of a katana at the man's left hip. "Bar, I think," I said to her. The wrench pouted.

"Luther'll take care of you, then," she said, waving for me to seat myself. I almost apologized to her, but bit my lip. She's earning enough tips from these patrons.

A stout Imperial man regarded me with brown eyes beneath white arched brows as I set my shield down against the bar and perched on the stool. Grey hair in a fringe above his ears emphasized the egg shape of his head. Setting the glass he was wiping down, he stepped in front of me. "What'd ya have, ma'am?"

My stomach reminded me that I had not had anything to eat, other than a few slices of waybread in the saddle, since breakfast that morning at Cloud Ruler Temple. My dry throat insisted on satisfaction before permitting the thought of eating. "I'll have water, sir," I said. "For now."

One brow climbed into his forehead as Luther Broad regarded me sardonically. "How would you like that, ma'am?" he remarked. "On the rocks, with a brandy chaser, or a twist of lime? How about an infusion of ginger?" Some of the barbirds stopped their conversation long enough to listen. "Oh, wait, let me guess," Broad held up a finger, "a couple of drops of citrus oil, with a garnish of mint?"

Aware of the growing attention on me, I held the Imperial's gaze steadily. "How's your well, sir?"

His eyes narrowed at me."Spring-fed, and clean, ma'am."

"Then that's how I'll take it, sir," I countered. Chuckles rippled up and down the bar as the barkeep grinned at me. Picking up a clean glass, he headed to the back bar, where the brass water tap gleamed against the dark wood. As the customers on my right returned to their pvssyr, I glanced at the Redguard on my left. Baurus?

"I wonder if the food here is any good, sir," I remarked to him as the barkeep returned with my glass, full of clear liquid.

"If you like it plain and hearty, yes," Baurus's voice responded. The Redguard took a sip of his ale reflectively. "If your tastes run to candied plums and spiced roast Niben boar, you're crap out of luck, ma'am." The barkeep, catching his comment, chuckled.

"As long as it has more flavor than Legion polenta, I'd be happy," I countered, meeting the Imperial's gaze.

"Listen," Baurus leaned slightly to me, lowering his voice, "I'm going to get up and walk out of here in a minute. Notice that Breton in the back corner by himself when you came in?" I nodded. "He's going to follow me. You follow him."

Glancing at the barkeep, who watched us with a somber expression, I took a sip of my water. "Ready whenever you are, sir." I said to Baurus.

"Wait for him to follow me. I want to see what he does next," Baurus stood up, draining the last of his ale, then walked to the rear, around the corner of the bar. Reaching down for the Kvatch Wolf, I saw the Breton put his book away in a back bag and hurry after Baurus. After a heartbeat, I limped to the rear, just in time to see the other man step through a door.

The barkeep gave me a slight nod when I glanced back, making certain no one else had spotted me. The door swung open silently at my light touch, and I stepped through onto a descending flight of stairs, their steps shrouded in darkness. Against the dim light of the cellar below, I could see a dark figure disappear around the corner.

Limping as silently down the steps as my heavy boots would allow, I soon reached the cellar floor. Baurus's voice reached me from the depths of the underground chamber. "Hello, stranger," he stepped casually toward the Breton. "Why are you following me?"

The other man jumped back, raising his left hand to cast familiar sulfur smoke. "Die, Redguard!" Baurus drew his katana in time to strike the other's arm, now encased in red-and-black armor, deflecting the daedric mace to the side. My own katana had sought my right palm and moved, almost of its own volition, toward the backs of the assassin's knees.

The assailant spun, falling to one knee, snarling as he swung that horrible mace wildly at us. Even with that dread armor, his lack of combat training showed in his indecision about which of us constituted the greater threat. Our blades took turns licking at the chinks in his armor, while we danced clear of that blunt weapon. Finally Baurus found a sweet spot in the man's armpit, and his blade plunged to half its length into the other's chest. With a final rattling gasp, the man fell forward onto his face, the armor and weapon dissolving into a hissing sulfur smoke.

Breathless, I met Baurus's gaze above the other's body. "We've - got to stop - meeting like this, - sir!" I gasped. Barely winded, Baurus chuckled as we scanned the cellar for more enemies, then sheathed his katana. Stepping up to me as I put my blade away, he gripped my right shoulder.

"By Talos! Am I glad to see you again, Julian!" he said, his grin flashing white in the dim light. "I got a message from Grandmaster Jauffre that he was sending an agent, but I never expected it would be you!" Holding me at arm's length, he eyed me up and down. "You look much better than when I last saw you."

"Grandmaster told me to take my orders from you, sir."

"All right," Baurus nodded, stepping back to the body and looking down at him. "That's Astav Wirich," he said. "Never pegged him for one of those assassins, not until I noticed him following me." Waving me to join him, he pointed at the corpse. "Search him, while I keep an eye out for others."

"Yes, sir," I knelt stiffly beside Wirich. I found the book he had been reading, and little else. Reading the title on the purple cover, Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes, Volume One, I showed it to Baurus.

"Never saw anything like it," he shook his head. "But this might be the break we need." He held his hand out to me, assisting me to my feet.

"What have you learned so far?" I brushed the dust off of my greaves.

"The assassins who killed the Emperor were part of a daedric cult called the Mythic Dawn," he responded. "Apparently, they worship Mehrunes Dagon." He toed the body thoughtfully, nudging the Breton over so he lay face up. "I've been tracking their agents in the Imperial City. I guess I got too close." His words were ironic in their understatement.

"The enemy has the Amulet," I told him. Baurus's brows lifted in surprise and despair.

"What? They took it from Jauffre? Things are worse than I thought."

"We have Uriel's son, Martin Septim," I offered. I didn't think his black brows could climb any higher, but they did.

"Thank Talos he lives!" His gaze fell on the Kvatch Wolf. "You found him in Kvatch?" his fingers brushed the edge of the light iron buckler. I nodded. His eyes grew dark. "So that's why they opened that portal there -" his voice trailed off.

I inhaled sharply. "They knew about him?" I whispered. "They were looking for him?"

"I doubt they picked Kvatch at random," Baurus said grimly. "That means when they find out where he is in hiding, they'll open another one there." He plucked the little book from my right hand, flipping through its pages. "Go see Tar-Meena at the Arcane University in the morning. I'll send her a message to expect you." Handing the book back to me, he met my gaze. "Show her that book, see what she makes of it. For tonight, get some food and a bed from Broad." He knelt beside Wirich. "I'll take care of this."

Whoohoo, another update! :twirl:

Couldn't help but frowning at this:
Before I make the same mistake I always make with Acadian by "correcting" him... but... wrench????

I'll get back to reading now...

edit: Finally some action and some proper MANLY killing Honestly, I have played this sooooo many times but your take on it is much more fun. :goodjob: