» Sun Aug 16, 2009 3:27 am Conflicting Symetry
The pounding on the wooden door to his quarters came as a rude awakening to a disoriented Chancellor Ocato. He struggled to pull himself out from under the covers of his bed, feeling his ailing body rearrange itself from its lying position. He tried to stand up, pushing himself forcefully off the bed, but could not keep his balance. His frail body crashed to the ground, but he was too determined to feel the pain. Slowly, carefully he rose onto his feet again, this time to stay. He was used to the fall and the pain did not phase him anymore. He limped across his carefully laid out quarters to the mirror on the opposite side of the room. The room was always well kept, to well kept to ever to feel comfortable in. The bed always made with the finest fabrics and the rug always beaten dustless. As he reached the mirror, he tripped again, this time catching himself on the desk before impact. He leaned heavily on his arms, the veins raised in his wrinkled hands as they supported the rest of his body. Tentatively he raised his head to peer at the reflection in the mirror in front of him. How much can change in five years? The answer was in front of him in the mirror, in the blood left from the fall on the floor, the zeppelin flying past in the window, but he didn't want to believe it. His hair was white, white like the moon in the sky, the skin on his face was sagging and pallor, without any trace of the golden high elf he used to be. His hair had begun to grey five years ago, during the heat of the Oblivion Crisis, and events ever since have made him gray all over. Gray, boring, stale, useless. Gray. He turned, disgusted by the face in the mirror, the blood on the floor, the zeppelin in the window. He stumbled toward the wardrobe to dress in his cloak. He needed to be ready in fifteen minutes for the Elder Council Meeting. It would take him double that time to make it down the stairs.
The pounding on the wooden door came as a rude awakening to Jannus Servasive. He grunted as he threw the covers off his body. He quickly sat up and got out of the bed, his muscular legs pulsating beneath him. Turning back to the bed he admired the beauty of the young imperial girl lying there, still fast asleep. Great body, but not so much for conversation he recollected. Great name to, though it escaped him for the moment. He growled again, not caring what her name was or how old she was or how worried her father was at that very moment. All he knew was that he being the Champion of Cyrodil was quite the turn on to that young gal. Suddenly he let himself fall forward, the ground racing up to meet him. At the last second before impact, his muscular hands stopped his fall, his nose half an inch from the ground. Effortlessly he pumped out a hundred push-ups. Afterwards he strapped on his armor and retrieved his war hammer from the corner of the room. As he opened the door, he glanced back one last time at the damsel on the bed. Suddenly she started to stir, and with battle sharpened reflexes he closed the door to go down to the Elder Council meeting.
Roland Serviticus stepped confidently through Green Emperors Way. The guards to his left and right kept perfect pace with him, a sign of their stone-like discipline. He was on his way to the elder council meeting, and although it was early in the morning, and although he had not slept the night before, he was wide awake and completely alert. Being alert and focused was a way of life to him. Focus had made him what he was. And what a man he was. Out of all the diplomats at the meeting, he would be the only one in dressed in his Imperial Armor. He would be the only one in pristine physical condition and the only one prepared to fight in a battle. But for some reason such a confident man felt uneasy in the confines of the Imperial city. He felt much more comfortable on the battlefield, in a bunker planning the next invasion, the next assault. His pace slowed as he reached the doors to the imperial palace, and silently his entourage whisked open both doors and allowed him to step through into the cool, dank hall. Ahead of him the two palace guards standing alert in front of the Elder council doors bowed as they opened the for him to enter. Roland Serviticus stepped confidently into the loud abrasive noise of the Elder Council.
Ocato sat in his chair around the edge of the huge table in the center of the Elder Council Hall. All the elders from the Empire were gathered there, an event which had not happened since the end of the oblivion crisis. All were talking except Ocato. Some arguing. Some talking. Some vying for power. Ocato was sitting silently, his head supported by his left arm which was propped on the arm of his chair. Suddenly, all went quiet as the doors to the great hall opened. General Serviticus strided through them leisurely and took his place directly opposite Ocato. At last the meeting could begin. A young man stood from his seat to the right of Ocato, and demanded the attention of the council. His name was Garnet Ocatium. He had a skinny, frail appearance, however that far from defined him. His face was gaunt like the rest of him, and as he began to speak every vein and muscle of his neck seemed to dance.
"Thank you all for coming," he recited coolly. "As I'm sure you all know this is the third council meeting we have had in twice as many days. Needless to say, the Chancellor and I hope that this meeting will resolve the conflicts that have made this council meet so frequently, and let us all go back to the normal business of empire. That said what we have ahead of us is no simple task. Simply put, it has been five years since the assassinations and, more importantly, the end of the Oblivion Crisis; it is time for us to choose a new ruler or even a ruling body. Before we open the floor to discussion, I would like to put forward a plan that myself, the chancellor and several other elders have concocted. Under the proposed plan Chancellor Ocato would be made Emperor and a new governing body would be created with?"
"I'll be damned before some golden rod will be emperor!" a burly looking Nord from across the table shouted as he rose from his chair to interrupt the speech.
"I second that opinion." a voice piped in from another corner of the room.
"And what exactly is wrong with Ocato being emperor?" This came from the imperial seated to the left of Ocato.
" The true question is, what exactly is right with Ocato being emperor?" a Breton sitting four seats from Ocato inquired, a little too loud to simply be a thought.
Suddenly the hulking figure of Jannus Servasive rose from his seat, two away from Ocato. "Alright, I've had just about enough of all this arguing. All you big-wig diplomats can shout and [censored] all ya' want at each other, but at the end of the day, Ocato's gonna be the god-damned emperor got it. I'm the Champion of the whole blasted Cyrodil, an' the people out their love me. So when I say Ocato's gonna be emperor, the people are sayin' Ocato's gonna be emperor. Any questions?"
"Oh keep it in your pants Jannus." a voice jabbed from somewhere by the doors into the great hall.
"Who the hell said that? Huh? Show me your face." Servasive hollered, his voice reverberating off the stone walls, bouncing to and fro around the room.
"That would be me," Roland Serviticus said coolly as he stood from his seat. "All this hooting and shouting has all been in vain anyway." Now he turned to face Ocato. "Chancellor, you may pronounce yourself Emperor, but I call King." Laughs were heard around the room from everyone, except those within the peripheral vision of Ocato.
"Further more," Serviticus continued, " and this is in all seriousness, I don't agree with your current proposal, Ocato. And as the highest ranking general in the army as of the moment, I believe that without my will, your bid for emperor is ultimately destined for failure. And even further more?"
"That is enough Roland. You and I shall deliberate privately in my quarters. As for the rest of you, this council is dismissed until further notice." Ocato recited as he rose from his chair and started for the door.
Across the room a small grin crept over the chiseled face of Roland Servticus. Suddenly he to rose from his place and, along with his entourage of guards, headed toward Ocato's quarters.
The air was thick and stale in Ocato's quarters, with the tension between the two parties not helping the uncomfortable conditions. Ocato was resting in his chair behind an oak desk. Elven made, and extremely elaborate; its glossy finish reflected the candles on the walls. Behind Ocato was Jannus Servasive, leaning on his war hammer as he glared at the guards standing tall behind where Serviticus was seated. Serviticus was in a luxurious arm chair, slouched back nonchalantly, an air of relaxation reverberating from him in the tension filled room.
"Let's drop the garbage, Roland," Ocato started, "because we're both lying to eachother."
"What have I lied about?" replied Serviticus, a thin grin still present on his face.
"I know you are still controlling the legions, even though the last fighting ended five months ago. I know your fortifying the Skyrim and Morrowind borders. I know you've been concentrating your power!"
"And how do you know all this?"
"He told me."
"Oh, so you're still letting that abomination walk around the city, huh, Ocato? Well that is just precious."
" That's another topic entirely. I'll be frank. I'm giving you an ultimatum, Roland. You currently have 100,000 soldiers under your coalition; I want 95,000 back under imperial control in 3 months, the rest you can use to quell your little 'uprisings'."
The grin vanished from Serviticus's face. "Damn it Ocato. You really think you're in any position to give me orders? The legions consist of 150,000 troops, 100,000 of which have sworn allegiance to me. And you're going to give me an ultimatum. Besides all my legions are bogged down quelling unrest in Valenwood, northern Skyrim, and southern Morrowind. Pulling them out?"
"I know you're lying to me, Roland. There are no rebellions. You just won't concede your power."
"Who the hell are you to?"
All of the sudden a book fell from its self on the wall. Then the rest, and soon the whole room was shaking. Serviticus stood from his chair; his guards drew their swords and stepped closer to the desk, which was countered by the silent Jannus Servasive throwing his hammer over his massive shoulder. As fast as the commotion started, it stopped with a bright flash in the middle of the room. Suddenly a tall figure in a flowing black cloak was standing, facing, Ocato's desk.
"Greetings Xeno." The chancellor spoke.
"You summoned me." The new arrival replied.
"What the hell is this about!" Serviticus shouted, his two guards now standing between him and the visitor, swords drawn.
"Well Serviticus, since you pledge that you don't lie about the legions, I figured you wouldn't mind if Xeno here takes a dive into your memory to deliver the complete truth."
Silently, the tall figure turned to face Serviticus. He was the tallest Altmer anyone in the room had ever seen, and his figure was almost identical to any other high elf. His skin was a different story. It was pale white with a blue hint to it. He was incredibly skinny, veins pronounced out of his forearms and hands that weren't cover by his cloak. He had a shaved bald head on top of his lean face. But his eyes. No pupil could be found. Only a dark mahogany color filled them. Slowy, he raised the palm of his hand to Serviticus.
"You try anything I'll bleed you out." one of Serviticus's guards warned.
"That's it! I've had enough!" Serviticus hollered. "I'm sick and tired of you and your old ways, Ocato. The emperors are dead and so are your ancient traditions. The empire needs a new body, a new structure and it is increasingly obvious to me that you are not its bearer. Four years ago, when you were still shocked by The Crisis, the council gave me the responsibility to reunite the faltering empire. 6 months ago I succeeded. I brought Morrowind, Skyrim, Valenwood, and your beloved Isles back under control of the Empire. I am the Hero of Tamriel. And I will save it once again from you!"
And with that Serviticus stormed out of the quarters, his guards close behind.
"Any other meaningless tasks you require from me?" The low, monotone voice of Xeno echoed out into the corridors through the now open doors.
I realize it might seem a bit generic but believe me there is much more to come. Thanks again for your feed back.
