The Valkyrie

By GothGirlDanielle


*

Foreword

For the reader's information, this is a novel I wrote for the 2009 National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I thought to post it here; if there's any interest, I'll continue posting chapters. It is book length, and I've tried to make the lore as accurate as I can, although I'm sure I've made mistakes. Some mistakes are intentional (Valkyries, for example, are not part of TES Lore and backstory had to be created) but if you have suggestions, thoughts, comments, or corrections, please feel free to post them.

I'm working on a Table of Contents that will allow the reader to click a link and go directly to a chapter. If anyone has any ideas on that functionality, please let me know.

And, this most importantly, thank you for reading.

*

Table of Contents

http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?s=&showtopic=1059760&view=findpost&p=15399809

http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?s=&showtopic=1059760&view=findpost&p=15399832

http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?s=&showtopic=1059760&view=findpost&p=15406453

http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?s=&showtopic=1059760&view=findpost&p=15420663



NOTE: As you can tell, I've added a Table of Contents to make it easier to find chapters. Chapter 1, which was originally part of the first post, has been moved to it's own post. Additional chapters will, of course, be linked on this post.

Good to see you started posting this. Are there any specific comments you would like?

I found a few spelling mistakes. If you don't want me to post them in the future, let me know.





This is very interesting and suspicious. A good start.

You story has good pace. Usually people here tend to go too fast.

You have an interesting way of describing internal dilemmas. This makes the characters quite complex.

I don't see anything wrong with the formatting.

Do continue. :goodjob:

Any comments - any at all - are welcome. I'm not looking for anything specific, although if you think something doesn't work or if you find the entire thing tedious, you should probably speak up. Cyberspace, after all, is not infinite and I'd hate to waste space with some tedious crap.



Yes, please point them out. Spelling is something I try very hard to get right (in fact, I caught one of the mistakes on a reread, but the other one was news to me. Thanks!). So, yeah, point out the mistakes and I'll try to have a thick skin.



Thank you so much. The novel is character driven as much plot driven, which means I've had to flush out the characters of NPC's within the game.

Very suspenseful. I like it. You have an interesting writing style. Very direct, like firing bullets with every sentence. It is very crisp and tight, conveying a great deal of description and wasting not a single word. I think it works very well for the kind of Fantasy Noir story I see shaping on the screen. I look forward to seeing the rest! :rock:


I did come across two misspellings (technically they are spelled correctly, which is why your spellchecker did not catch them, they are just the wrong words for the context):

How did a Nord every get good at alchemy?

should be:

How did a Nord ever get good at alchemy?


and


"I'm sorry, I must have let my notes at home.

should be:

"I'm sorry, I must have left my notes at home.

Let me join Peleus in stating that your formatting for the forum looks fine.

I'm delighted to see you finally posting some fanfic!

:read: Your writing is strong and I like it alot.

This is fascinatingly effective: 'Her eyes widen. That's a costly bit of information that someone had failed to share with her. The implications of such a gift from the Emperor are dramatic. She may have been born in a shack, but she understands that. For a moment, the advantage ? the tenuous control of the conversation ? shifts to me. I press my advantage.'

I must confess a true love for Cyrodiil, so I am delighted to see that as your setting.

I hope you continue to share your talent with us! :foodndrink:

Grrhh. I hate when I misspell words. Thank you for catching them for me.

And thanks for the comments. Ironically, this chapter was rewritten several times, including some cutthroat editing, which explains the stylistic tightness but not the misspellings. :banghead:

Thank you for your kind words.

Something that may have made Oblivion more interesting is the kind of Machiavellian political system that was there in Morrowind. I mean, we're talking about an Empire, right? There should be intrigues and plots and counter-plots. And what are all those Assassins doing - the Dark Brotherhood and the Camonna Tong?

This fall I read Frank Herbert's Dune for the first time and was blown away by the possibilities for Oblivion. I'm fascinated by the idea of a person forced into the maelestrom of violence as the result of circumstance brought on by the insatiable ambitions of others. In such moments, destinies are born.

Not that this is what The Valkyrie is about . . .

An auspicious beginning. I like it a lot. :thumbsup: The fact that you maintain the present tense through the story gives your writing immediacy and impact. Perfect for the atmospheric tone of the piece.

One paragraph did catch my eye, though, :read:
Outside, I hurry through the garden and up the steps, weaving my way through huddles groups of students and mages . . .
huddles should be huddled, no big deal. In the same paragraph when Kaira remarks on the thoughtlessness of her response to the battlemage, that strikes me as a 'show don't tell' kind of moment. I (and it might just be me) would like to have known what was so thoughtless that she chose to comment on it.

Those are two very small nitpicks to be sure and they in no way take away from what I thought was a very good opening chapter. I look forward to reading more.

Thanks for the note and the comments. The first is yet another typo (Damn!). Sorry. Thanks for catching it.

The second, however, I defend. The sentence reads: "My smile is quick; my response thoughtless." Her response is thoughtless as in "without thought". It just slips out, another of the many meaningless hellos and goodbyes that we toss around as we come and go. Pressed upon, we wouldn't remember for sure what we said to any of a half-dozen people we passed on the street in a day.

Or at least, that was my thinking.

Ah, my apologies. I took it to mean thoughtless as in 'without regard'. My mistake. :facepalm:

Impressive opening.

Actually, very impressive opening!

An awful lot has taken place already, yet it never felt rushed, lots learned about the character of Kaira and lots of questions set up to be answered later.

Yep, this has well and truly hooked me already.

Looking forward to the next installment!!!

:tops:

I like it so far, and I think I will like it even more.

Only one thing. Why, WHY has no one noticed that it should be FOREword instead of forWARD???!!!???

Oh, you're right.

Well, in my case the answer is because I started to read carefully from when it said Chapter 1. The author's note at the beginning I sort of skimmed.

Oops.

No offence GothGirl, I was just anxious to get started on reading the story itself

No apology is necessary, for the dictionary gives both definitions for thoughtless. I knew when I wrote the sentence, my word choice might lead to confusion, but I was hoping to preserve the sense of urgency by using the two brief independent clauses joined by a semicolon. "Thoughtless" preserved the "beat" of the sentence, if that makes sense, but if it leads to confusion, I need to choose a different word.

@ Peacock King: Thank you for you kind and colorful encouragement! I appreciate it.

@ D.Foxy: Ouch. :facepalm: Wow, that was stupid. Unlike the chapter, which was written several times, the foreword was written once and directly onto the forum. Thanks for catching it.

I really liked this. I know this has been pointed out, but the pace was perfect. Fast, but not too fast. I look forward to reading the rest of this.

I like the way it's written. A bit like Shades' "Pail Rider."

Chapter 1 – The Cold in Her Bones


*

Kaira Svanhit.

I sleep. In my dream, I'm falling.

With a splash, my feet spear the water, the ice-cold waves closing around me, burning my naked skin. In the moment it takes me to close my eyes, I sink beneath the waves, the gray sky disappearing. Above me, on the boat, they are watching and waiting, even for me to drown. They will not help me, for it is forbidden.

Kicking my legs is impossible. Rahling tied the thick ropes too tight and the knots are beyond my skill to undo in the dark, silent waters of the fjord. I must use my arms. I must pull myself – and the bag of rocks Rahling tied to my ankles – up to the surface.

Swim or drown are my only choices.

My arms move in the water, weakly at first, my body continuing to sink. The sea presses against me, the water colder. Something brushes my face. I can see nothing now. My lungs burn like fire but I dare not open my mouth, not even for an instant. My arms ache. I close my eyes . . .

. . . and see my mother, tall, beautiful, regal, her long dark hair flowing over one shoulder. Her eyes glow, set like gemstones within her high cheekbones, a subtle suggestion of her elven heritage. She stands on a blanket of snow. In one pale hand she holds my father's sword.

Swim, Kaira. Her lips do not move but her voice rings inside my head.

I can't.

You can. You must.

It's too cold. I'm too tired.

Kaira, who are you?

I'm your daughter? I don't know.

Kaira, you are a daughter of Skyrim, a shieldmaiden of the sky, born of a line that sired kings and emperors. You cannot fail. You do not die. Within you is the power to rule and conquer, to decide the fate of others. You must swim, Kaira.

I can't.

You must. You will.

My arms move, my fingers dragging helplessly through the water. Again and again and again, I wave my arms like wings. The darkness fades, the water warms ever so slightly. My arms move in rhythm now, my body is a perfect line, the bag of rocks an anchor I drag to the surface.

Swim, Kaira.

The surface of the sea is just above me now, I can see the rippled surface of the clouds through the clear cold water. I know I'm going to make it. I believe it now. But just before my nose breaks the surface, someone clutches my shoulder.

I start. Blinking, I look around me, unsettled now that the dream is gone. Then I see the books; I'm at the University library. Smiling down at me is the handsome face of Niccius Curio, a student from my Alchemy class. "You were starting to snore," he laughs. "Most unladylike."

"Has the sun set?" I rub my eyes. My head feels heavy, my mind is thick and slow.

"It's dusk. Do you want to walk to the market? Get some food, have an ale?"

"I have to get home." I look at the books piled in front of me and a frustrated sense of hopeless washes over me. I had slept the afternoon away. "My father is waiting for me."

"Well, can I at least borrow your alchemy notes? Julienne Fanis says you're a genius."

"Sure." I begin closing books, stacking them. "They're here somewhere." Then, as I'm leafing through my notes, I feel a chill in my bones and I shiver. Shifting more pages, I consider the chill.

"How did you get so good at alchemy?"

I glance at Niccius, reading the polite compliment in his eyes, but also the question, what he really wants to know. How did a Nord ever get good at alchemy? "My grandfather was an alchemist."

"Really?"

"He was elven." The chill returns. Across the room, a fire burns brightly. The chill settles in my bones, spreading through to my limbs.

Something is wrong.

"I have to go." I thrust papers in the pile of books, then grab them in my arms. "I'm sorry, I must have left my notes at home. Can I give them to you tomorrow?"

"Sure. You don't want some food?"

"I can't." I'm starting to shiver. "I'll see you later."

Outside, I hurry through the garden and up the steps, weaving through huddled groups of students and mages, nodding occasionally as I spot a familiar face. The battlemage at the gate, recognizing me, pulls open the gate and wishes me a good evening. My smile is quick; my response thoughtless. I cross to the exterior gate, pass through, and stop.

The bridge leading into the Imperial City is crowded with people.

Standing on my toes, I can see four Imperial Guards holding the crowd at bay, allowing only one at a time to enter the city. "This is madness," I grumble. Looking at the man next to me, a young, dark-eyed Imperial mage, I ask, "What's going on?"

He just shrugs, trying to pushing through the crowd.

I wait, moving slowly, the chill in my bones turning to ice. All I can think of is a warm fire, a hot bath – and my father.

Time passes, the sky above me darkens, the stars glitter. The crowd is turning restless and mean. I finally reach the gates. The guards are directing people to the left. "Follow the walkway to the Temple District. Stay on the sidewalk. Do not leave the sidewalk." They repeat this like a mantra.

"I can't," I say, when I'm finally standing before them. "I live in the Arboretum District."

"Name?" a guard asks.

"Kaira Svanhit. Daughter of Soldam Svolgreth."

All the guards stop, eyes turning to me. It's a gesture that doesn't go unnoticed by the crowd. Voices fall silent; ears strain for news. One of the guards disappears, returning a moment later with another, different, guard, a woman with the smooth olive skin and dark hair of an Imperial. At her arrival, the other guards stand taller, but she ignores them. She approaches me, eyes on my face. "You are Kaira Svanhit." It's not a question, she is stating a fact.

"Is something wrong?" I fight to control my shivering.

"Come with me." Turning, she steps back through the gate. I follow behind her, passing along the wide stone walkway into the Arboretum District. Again, I stop. Imperial Guards are moving in and out of my father's house. On the sidewalk outside, I see Mette and Ra'Bul standing between two guards. I start towards them, but the woman turns and grabs my arm.

"Let go of me." I yank my arm from her gasp. "Tell me what's going on."

"Come with me." She turns, leading me across the Arboretum, over near one of the wells. We are hidden from the scene in front of my father's house by a large hydrangea bush.

"Tell me who you are and what is going on?" Effort is required to keep the fear out of my voice.

"I am Sub-Captain Anatonia Vecillius of the Imperial City Watch. Where have you been today?"

"Where? Where I am every day: at the University."

"You're a student at the Arcane University?"

"Yes."

"Do you sleep there? Have a bunk, a bedroll?"

"No, I live with my father." She starts to speak again but I raise my hand. "What has happened?"

"Your father is dead."

Now I understand the cold in my bones. I stare at this woman, her dark eyes watch me carefully. "My father? Are you certain?"

"Soldam Svolgreth is your father?"

"Yes."

"Then I am certain."

"When? Where?"

"We're not sure when, but his body was found less an arm's length from the murdered body of Crown Prince Geldall."

"No." I cannot stop the shivering. "It can't be."

"It is." She makes no move towards me, her face is a mask. "Why would your father be visiting Prince Geldall?"

"I don't know."

"Why would their bodies be found together?"

"I don't know."

"Did your father regularly visit the Crown Prince? Any of the Princes? The Emperor, for that matter?"

"My father served in the Imperial Legion. Sixteen years. Until he, uh – "

"What? Lost his foot?" she offered.

"Yes. Then the Emperor appointed him as book and record keeper for the Imperial Legion supply depot here in the City. That's what he's been doing for the past ten years."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"What?"

"Your father - did he often visit the Emperor? Prince Geldall?"

"My father knew the Emperor, yes." I look away, trying to see my father's house through the bushes.

A guard suddenly appears at the edge of the bush and she steps away for a moment. Their conversation is whispers, then I hear her voice, firm and hard. Orders and she's used to giving them. The guard disappears and she approaches me again. "Your father was, what? A bookkeeper, you say?"

"I guess."

"You guess?"

Her tone angers me. "What are you implying?"

"Implying? Nothing. Just wondering how a retired Legionnaire and bureaucrat can afford one of the nicest houses in the Imperial City?"

Curses are on my tongue, but sixteen years of training silences me. We return stares, her brown eyes locked onto mine. We are very similar, she and I, roughly the same age and both strong in body and spirit. But from two very different worlds. It's her words that betray her, the rough sound of her voice, her lazy pronunciation.

"The Emperor gave the house to my father, as a gift."

Her eyes widen. That's a costly bit of information that someone had failed to share with her. The implications of such a gift from the Emperor are dramatic. She may have been born in a shack, but even she understands that. For a moment, the advantage – the tenuous control of the conversation – shifts to me. I press the point home.

"You didn't know that?"

She bites her lip, not answering. It's a hard thing to swallow, this sudden and dramatic change in perspective, but swallow it she must. She has questions. She wants answers. But she's no longer sure who she is questioning. By the squint of her eyes, she's still trying to make it work, her belief that my father had something to do with the death of Crown Prince Geldall, but, for now, there isn't enough there.

And I'm not about to volunteer any more.

"I see," she says finally.

"I doubt that you do." My words are pure venom, but I'm channeling my anger directly at her. "Are you satisfied? May I now enter my home?"

She doesn't like the idea, but only brute force will prevent me. I step firmly past her, stalking across the garden, still carrying my books from the University. My movement catches Ra'Bul's eye and he starts towards me. The guards whirl, facing me as I approached. "Excuse me," I snap.

"I'm sorry – "

"Get out of my way." Matte, too, had joined Ra'Bul and I. The Guards glanced behind us, to where I know she's standing, this Sub-Captain Vecillius of the Imperial City Watch. A moment later, they step aside. I pass through the gate, pausing only for a moment to glare back towards the group of guards. "Where is my father's body?"

This time she has the decency to blush. "We have the body."

"Bring his body to this house. Immediately." I pass through the door, followed by Matte and Ra'Bul, who closes the door firmly behind him.

*

[Author's Note: Okay, I hope the formatting works. On my MacBook, the font shows up pretty small. I've tried to catch all the errors, but if you see something, or if you have a comment, please post a reply. Ill try to post Chapter 2 this weekend.]

2009/2009

Chapter 2 – A New Kind of War


*


Anatonia Vecillius.

I curse softly as the door closes behind the Orc. What's he called? Ra'Bul or something like that? The guards all watch me now, waiting for orders. It's been a long day and what I want now is a bath or a swim. Maybe later, after this mess is cleaned up. I'm about to give the order to fetch Slovgreth's body when I see Captain Avidius approaching, weaving along the narrow stone paths through the garden. As he comes closer, he begins to smile. Slyly. "Commander Phillida is looking for you," he says, nodding to some of the others. "He'd like a report."

"Right, sir. Where is he?" I ask.

"With the Elder Council." As my jaw sags, his smile turns positively wicked. "You're to report there immediately." He hesitates, then throws off, "I can escort you if you wish."

"I know the way, sir. Don't want to take you from your duties." Then, to the others, "Go on, get back to work." Ignoring the questioning gazes, I turn, setting off in the direction of the Imperial Palace.

The city streets are squirming with people; bits of conversations drift to my ears. The Princes are dead. The Emperor is missing. Who's killing them? When will it stop? Where the hell were the Blades? The Imperial Guards? Rumors slide from conversation to conversation like a hungry snake. The accusations are bold; the criticisms cutting. I ignore it all, eyes staring straight ahead, as I enter onto the Green Emperor Way.

I immediately notice the Palace Guards are out in force. I greet them as I pass along; some return the greeting, others simply ignore me. Under the best of circumstances, the Palace Guards consider themselves superior to the Imperial Watch. Tonight, with rumors sweeping the City and accusations on everyone's lips, their righteous sense of superiority has grown into holy indignation.

The moon straddles the White Gold Tower as I approach. One of the Palace Guards, recognizing me, pulls open the door. I pass into the Imperial Palace without a word of greeting. The corridors are dark, the flickering lights from the several spaced candelabras reflect off the polished, ancient stone. Silence embraces me, a tense and brooding emptiness, offering none of the peace that the Imperial Palace usually brings.

And then, I'm there.

"Weapon," says one of two Palace Guards standing outside the door into the Elder Council Chamber. I don't recognize him, but other is Caccia Midos, who's drank more than his share of ale with the Watch and I, down at The Foaming Flask. He smiles as I undo the buckle.

"What do you know?" he asks. "Did the old Nord do it?"

I just smile, handing over my sword. Then, on further thought, I hold out my shield. "Care to hold this, too?"

"Okay," Midos says, his smile fading, "keep your own counsel. But I wish that Nord bastard would have lived – and that they'd let me have a go at him. By the Gods, I'd find out what was going on, you know I would."

I smile but it's forced. Before he opens the door, the other guard says, "I hear the bastard's got a daughter - quite the woman, too."

Midos snorts. "Well, there you are. Let's go get her."

Then the door is open. I step inside just in time to hear someone, a woman, ask, "Where is the Emperor now?"

"The Emperor is in the protection of his Blades." I recognize the voice of Adamus Phillida, Commander of the Legion forces within the City. He sits at the Elder Council table, in the chair reserved for the Legion. Standing behind him, in the shadows of the columns, I spot Captain Montrose, that supplicating weasel from the Prison. Next to him is an older man, with sharp, intelligent eyes and wearing a monk's robe. I move towards them, taking care to stay in the back, in the shadows, and all the while letting my eyes rove the room.

Have no doubt, the Elder Council Chamber was remade from its Ayleid origins to reflect the might and majesty of the Empire. The circular room is larger than most houses in Cyrodill, built of cut white stone and carefully carved marble. The red diamond dragon of the Empire is inlaid upon the white stone floor like rays of light streaming from a sun. At the center is a huge circular stone table, around which stands ancient chairs of darkwood and red velvet. Tonight, during this emergency session of the Council, many of these chairs are empty. During the day, sunshine flows down through the White Gold Tower, reflecting off the stone and marble to bathe the table and chairs in light. Behind the table are four rings of marble steps and behind the steps, a ring of marble columns, carved in the ancient Imperial design. Here, in the shadows of the columns, stand those who have business in this chamber: assistants to the Councilors, members of the Legion, visiting governors and rulers from the provinces, and so on, each waiting in silence until called upon to give voice to the Council. Chairs at the table are reserved for the Councilors themselves, the Counts and Countesses of the seven major cities in Cyrodill, and others as dictated by law and custom.

This is the second time I've seen this room; the first was to take my oath as member of the Imperial Legion.

Glancing around the great stone table, I immediately recognize faces: the fleshy, sly face of Countess Alessia Caro of Leyawiin, probably in town and voting her husband's proxy; the handsome, intelligent face of her brother, Tyronius Valga, a recent and popular appointment to the Council; the wrinkled, kind-eyed face of the healer, Sabradina Atrius, who for years has voted the proxy of the mysterious Count Hassildor of Skinguard; and, of course, the angular, lean face of High Councilor Ocato, his penetrating dark eyes sweeping around the table.

As I exchange nods with Captain Montrose, Commander Phillida's voice carries through the room. "Yes, it's true. All the sons of our Emperor are dead, murdered by unknown assassins. We're conducting an investigation at this time."

"Tell us about the investigation." Countess Caro smiles at the Commander. "Tell us about the Nord."

"Well, there's not much to tell. His name is Soldam Slovgreth and he was the Keeper of Records for the Imperial Supply Depot here in the City. His body was found next to that of Crown Prince Geldall."

"And have you linked him to the murder?" the Countess presses.

Commander Phillida hesitates. "Not all details of the investigation are being released at this time."

Now Councilor Valga leans onto the table. "Commander, we're not a group of well-intentioned citizens, here to entertain our curiosity. We are the Elder Council. I remind you that you're required by law to answer Countess Caro's and, indeed, all of our questions."

"Unless," High Councilor Ocato interrupts, "the answers to those questions would reveal information critical to the safety and security of the Empire. Is that the case, Commander?"

Ocato is throwing the Commander a rope, but Valga is having none of it. Shaking his head viscously, he says, "If the information is sensitive, then procedure of the Council dictates that we clear the chambers and adjourn to a closed session. Under no circumstances is the Legion permitted to act outside the authority of the Council."

"Or the Emperor," Ocato adds dryly. "Is that your claim, Councilor Valga? That the Imperial Legion is somehow acting outside it's authority?"

Valga glances around the table, studying the faces, testing the waters. "Well, I do have some information. I'll not reveal my source, but Commander Phillida can confirm it, if he will. I've been advised that this Nord, this Slovgreth, actually killed the Crown Prince with a weapon of his own hand, and that this weapon was found still imbedded in the Crown Prince's body. Isn't that true, Commander?"

Murmurs swept the room. Commander Phillida glares daggers at Valga. "Yes."

"And have you confirmed this weapon belonged to Slovgreth?" Valga asked.

"Yes.

Excited voices break out from the shadows. Ocato glances around the room and where his eyes fall, silence prevails. Valga leans back in his chair, watching the Commander, the thinnest trace of a smile on his face. His sister, still smiling sweetly, leans forward. "And why was this information withheld from the Council, Commander?"

"Because we're still conducting – "

"Conducting!" Valga slams his fist onto the stone table. "You're protecting one of your own! Isn't it true that Slovgreth was a decorated member of the Imperial Legion?"

Commander Phillida swallows. "Yes, but we were – "

"You were what?!!" Valga cries, rising from his seat.

" – conducting an investigation." In the silence, the Commander's words hang as limp as wet rag.

Before Valga can react, the healer, Sabradina Atrius intervenes. "Tell us, Commander," she asks, "have you investigated Slovgreth?"

"Of course we have." He fires an injured glance at Valga, who just sneers.

"And can you speak to the status of that investigation?"

"I cannot." He leans back in the darkwood chair, glancing around the room until he sees me in the shadows. "But Sub-Captain Vecillius can. She is in charge of the investigation."

In a breath, before I truly appreciate the position the Commander's put me in, all eyes shift towards me. The temperature around me rises to somewhere above boiling. Ocata, his dark eyes fixed on me, says, "Report, please."

Coughing, I step forward. "Well, I've been to the Slovgreth house in the Arboretum district. There are three, uh, three persons in the household: a daughter, Kaira Svanhit, an elderly maid-servent named Matte and an orc, Ra'Bul. All three denied knowing of the Crown Prince's murder and none could explain why Slovgreth's body was found in the Prince's house."

"Excuse me," the Countess Caro asks, directing her sickly sweet smile towards me, "but isn't that a rather large household for someone on a Legion salary?"

"Yes," I admit. "That aroused my suspicions, as did size of the house itself, which is six full rooms and one of the largest in the Arboretum District."

Valga nods, patting the stone table with his hand. "Good, good, now we're getting somewhere. Continue, please."

"However, I then learned that the house was a gift to Slovgreth from the Emperor." Silence falls over the room. I glance up just in time to see High Councilor Ocato close his eyes and shake his head.

"So the Emperor just gave this house, this wonderful house in the Arboretum District, to Slovgreth?" Valga asks. "Are you sure?"

"I am." Ocato speaks before I can answer. "I was a witness to the gift." He favors me with a tight glance. "And now we all know about it." Before Valga could speak, Ocato waves a hand at me, "Continue."

"Yes, sir. We conducted a search but found nothing linking Slovgreth to the murder. Well, there were quite a number of weapons and pieces of armor, but as – well, he was a Nord and a member of the Imperial Legion." Valga snorts. "As I said, I questioned the daughter but she didn't know anything."

"Didn't know or wouldn't say?" Countess Cato asks. Before I can reply, she asks, "Where is this woman now? Please tell me she's sitting in the Imperial Prison, waiting to be questioned by those who enjoy doing the questioning."

"No," I reply, blushing to the roots of my hair. Now I know how Commander Phillida felt, shifting as he did in his chair. "I didn't arrest her as I was uncertain . . . of her status."

Again I glance at Ocato, and again I see his eyes close.

Valga, meanwhile, erupts. "What? Her status? The Crown Prince is dead and you're concerned for her status? That woman needs to be arrested and brought to the Imperial Prison for questioning. Do I have to tell you how to do your job?" Then, to the others around the table, the Councilors turned to listen to him, "We need to question this woman. Find out what she knows. Get some answers from her. And I know a Khajiit that can do it!"

Around the table heads begin to nod.

Ocato raises his hand. "Members of the Elder Council, as grave as this situation is, I believe the Emperor, upon his return, will gladly shed some light – "

"Where is the Emperor?" Valga asks, rising from his chair again.

Commander Phillida rises, too. "The Emperor is in a safe place, protected by his Blades!"

"That is not true! The Emperor is dead!"

Voices fade to silence as faces turn toward the shadows near the doorway. Standing beside a Place Guard is a priest from the Temple of the One. His face is shrouded by a hood, but his voice trembles with powerful emotion. "The Dragonfires have burned out! The life of Uriel Septim VII is finished." He pauses, a groan eminating from his hood. "Our Emperor is dead."

Commander Phillida collapses into his chair. High Councilor Ocato stares down at the top of the stone table. Only Councilor Valga seems composed. He stands, his eyes tight and glaring, his handsome face frowning. "This is an outrage! The Legion has failed us! The Blades have failed us!" Next to me, the monk curses under his breath and turns on his heel, striding away into the shadows.

Valga continues, his voice a roar, echoing throughout the chamber. "Members of the Elder Council! We are now the governing body of Cyrodill. We must take action! Let us act where others failed."

"Hear, hear." Voices rang out around the table.

Valga raises his hand. "On behalf of The Elder Council, I demand the immediate arrest of this woman, this Slovgreth's daughter, what is her name?" His eyes snap directly to me.

"Kaira Svanhit," I say. My voice is a whisper against the silence.

"Kaira Svanhit! Let's bring her in and find out what she knows! Before someone else is murdered!"

Shouts rang out around the table. Again, Ocato holds up his hand, but now the Council ignores him. Countess Caro, still smiling, rocks back and forth in her chair. Around the table, members of the Council either sit in stunned silence or talk excitedly among themselves. A voice cries out, "Call it to a vote!"

"I call Councilor Valga's proposition to a vote," the Countess declares.

High Councilor Ocato shakes his head. His hands lay on the table, flat, fingers spread out, as if though he thought to push himself up from his chair. His dark eyes rove around the table. Finally, he speaks, his voice thick with emotion, "All in favor of Councilor Valga's proposition: that one Kaira Svanhit, the daughter of Soldam Slovgreth, be immediately arrested and taken to the Imperial Prison to be held for questioning, raise your hands now."

Around the table, a forest of hands spring up.

"All against?"

A few stray hands go up, Councilor Ocato's among them. He glances around again, this time in my direction, as if looking for someone, but whoever he is seeking is gone or hidden from his sight. Sighing, he glances at Commander Phillida. "Commander, by order of The Elder Council, arrest Kaira Svanhit."

The Commander nods slowly and I step back into the shadows, feeling strangely sick to my stomach.

*

Outside, the moon is gone and the night air feels cool against my burning face. Commander Phillida is morose and quiet; Captain Montrose follows like a puppy on a rope. As we pass through the gate leading into the Market District, the Commander stops, removing his helmet and one gauntlet, wiping a sweaty hand through what was left of his hair. Then he looks at me, preparing to speak.

But I beat him to the swing. "Why wasn't I told?"

His tired eyes watch me cautiously. "Told what?"

"That Slovgreth killed the Crown Prince!" My voice shakes with weariness and anger. "Why wasn't I told his weapon was found in the body? I wouldn't have let her go had I known that! I would have questioned her!"

The Commander sighs, turning to Captain Montrose. "Captain, return to your post." Montrose bows – I swear the little man bows to the Commander – and trots off along the now empty streets of the Market District. We both watch him until he's swallowed up by the night. "You're worth five of him. You know that, don't you?"

I don't answer. I will not allow my anger to be placated.

"There are forces at work here, Vecillius. Factions." His voice shakes, he sounds exhausted. "Bigger than us. Bigger than the Legion. Sometimes it's all I can do to just stop the bleeding." He shrugs, sighing. "You were told what you needed to know. What they, or we, thought you needed to know."

I looked away, considering the import of his words. "These factions – would they kill the Royal Princes?"

Phillida snorts. "Naw, that's not it." Shaking his half-bald head, he continues. "They're not evil, they just do things their own way. And the less we know, the better, in their eyes. But I'll tell you, they're licking their own wounds right now, just like us. This - all of this - was supposed to be taken care of."

"Taken care of? You mean, before I got involved?"

"Before any of us got involved." I was about to ask what he meant, when he held up a hand. "I can't say any more, Vecillius. I can't. Just do your duty. Go arrest that woman."

"Yes, sir." I was turning away, when he spoke again.

"You know, I used to be a warrior." I turn back towards him and now he's staring over my head, towards the White Gold Tower. "I mean, I really used to fight. I was a soldier. I campaigned, I fought battles. I had an enemy and I fought that enemy. Now I'm a guard. And I became a guard because people, the Emperor, they said it would be safer, easier, better for the Empire. But damned if I can tell who the enemy is anymore. Dammed if I can see him." He looks at me and I can see the red weariness in the whites of his eyes. "This is new kind of fight, a new kind of war. I don't understand it."

I nod my head, not really understanding myself.

"Go now. Let's end this thing."

Dawn creeps pink over the white walls of the Arboretum District as I and two guards arrive at the house. The iron gate stands ajar, the reinforced oak door hangs open just a crack. I glance over my shoulder into the curious stares of the guards, then slowly draw my sword. It feels good, solid, in my hand, like the work ahead of us. "I'll go in first," I whisper. "Be right behind me."

They both nod, swords drawn.

Swallowing, I push open the gate, wincing as it creaks on its hinges. The door, however, opens quietly. The room is large and spacious and well lit, a good thing, for there's precious little blood on the floor. But for the several burning candles, I might have thought the two bodies – the old woman and the Orc – had just fallen asleep on the floor. In the flickering light, though, I can see their immovable, staring eyes and the jagged blood-black cuts across their throats.

But even without the benefit of candles, I would have seen her. I wouldn't have missed the daughter of Soldam Slovgreth, standing slightly off the center of the room, her long blonde hair wild, her blue eyes – almost the same shade of blue as the expensive silk dress clinging to her body – staring wildly around the room. I wouldn't have missed her at all, not with that glittering silver dagger in her hand.

Then she sees me, her blue eyes widening suddenly. "Help me," she says quickly. "Help me, I didn't kill them."

"Right," I say. And then I sigh, for I know, I feel in my bones, this thing, this new kind of war, is far from over.

*

3475/5484

Author's Note: Wow, that's done. I've actually written this chapter, Chapter 2, six different times over as many days, changing plots and settings, trying to make it work.

The problem, for me, lies in the rather illogical start to the main quest in the game. Consider this: a prisoner is turned loose with what may be the most important artifact in the entire Empire. Then, when he shows up on the doorstep of the Grandmaster of the Blades, with said artifact, he isn't thrown directly back in prison or killed on the spot, but rather sent off, by himself, to fetch the only living heir of the Emperor and the only person who can stop the threat to Cyrodill – while the Blades, um, wait by the fire. Okey-Dokey.

But hey, it's a game. Fair enough. But then I started writing this and trying to make that illogical beginning work in a logical way and, well, it was hard – particularly in this case, where I've already written the story and need it go a certain, somewhat logical, direction.

In the end, I was satisfied. Not thrilled, but satisfied. I know it's long, but I accomplished a lot, introduced more of the characters, and allowed myself a place to go with the plot as I originally wrote it – even if I will now need two more chapters to get there.

One thing that bugged me, and I wasn't really thrilled with, was the priest coming in to announce "The Emperor is dead." That felt . . . hoaky, clich?, yada, yada, yada. But the thing is – if I understand how the Dragonfires work – there's your Emperor, alive and well, and there's your Dragonfires burning brightly. The Emperor dies and, well, the fires go out. Like immediately, I assume. And when that happens, someone's bound to notice. As in: "Hey, isn't it a little dark in the Temple of the One?" And having noticed, who are they going to tell? Sure, sure, maybe the Imperial Guards, maybe the Blades, but, c'mon, someone's going to interrupt a sessions of the Council to just mention, hey, the fire is, like, out . . .

So I hope you enjoy it. In the end, I really enjoyed writing it – just not six times.

P.S. One other thing I'll mention: The style of this books is taken from Faulkner's As I Lay Dying. The story is revealed through the eyes of several characters. There is a protagonist and so on, but the protagonist is a participant in the story, not a point of view. Point of view limited to the person identified. Just in case it gets confusing.

I was going to comment on some spelling issues I noticed but I was writing this while you were still editing your post and you corrected most of them.



This was a great sentence. It has everything to capture the emotion of the moment.

I still don't know who the protagonist is here. Is it Kaira or Anatonia?

No offence but that final scene with Kaira standing in the middle of the bodies with a (clean) dagger in her hand among the bloody bodies just when Anatonia enters seems a bit far fetched. Everything was in a too convenient position.

The people of the Elder Council are a very interesting bunch. Ocato with his quiet and searching eyes. I liked Count Valga and Countess Caro in particular. These two are natural agitators. They remind me of Jaime and Cersei Lannister.


Not that I'm complaining but that sentence is more or less the title and the plot of my own fan fic.

This story is starting to get its volume. Keep it up. :tops:

Thanks for waiting. I went over the story several times, trying to pull every word out that I could (or that I felt I could) and trying not to have a repeat of my "forward" error (lol, I'll never forget that!). I really think I got all the spelling errors this time but, hey, it is 4:15 a.m. in Chicago.



Thanks, glad you liked it. Of course, I did, too.



Hmm . . . it depends on how you define protagonist. If you mean what character has to resolve the principle issue of the plot, that would be Kaira. If you mean, whose POV will I be seeing the story through, then it becomes more difficult because I'm using the first person POV told through the eyes of several different characters.



No offense taken. This is one of the parts I struggled with - because in the original Chapter 2, I introduced another character which you now won't learn about until later. That character . . . egghh, well, makes this situation, oh, convenient. Hmm . . . sorry.



Yeah, the Elder Council will be a very interesting bunch.

One of the things I did while I was writing this in November was write complete biographies on all my characters, even the members of the Elder Council. I did, like, one a day, and the biographies go on for pages. I'd research the character on UESP wiki, maybe take a stab at meeting them in game, and then I'd use that information and go from there. So Countess Caro likes a bit torture with her dinner and the whole Valga clan are a bit self-righteous . . .

Doing bios keeps me and my characters honest and allows me to "show not tell" as Chekov would say.



Wow, and here I thought I was coming up with something new and clever! Sorry, I really didn't copy your title or your plot.

Actually, I'll tell you where it came from - high school. I was learning about the American Revolution. So you had the British Army, in flaming red coats, marching along and fighting by lining up in rows, out in the open, firing at people. Then the colonists come along and start hiding behind walls, under trees, fighting ignobly but winning (eventually). My teacher got us thinking about how wars are won because someone finally starts doing the things others don't want to do. Terrorist killing themselves and hundreds of innocent civilians. Someone is standing there saying, "I don't understand it. What's wrong with these people?" We have those moments in life, although hopefully not over who's gonna rule the world or kill us, and we stand there a feel tired and, maybe, out of touch because we don't understand what's happening.



Thank you very much. I will.

I agree with Peleus, the scene with the silver dagger still in her hand is very convenient but I noticed a distinct lack of description on how the dagger was looking like: bloodied, wiped clean, clean as a whistle??? I guess we'll find out what has happened exactly soon enough.

Very riveting! Can't wait to read the rest of a very interesting plot you have created.

I quite enjoyed this second chapter. I fully understand and enjoy your changing first POV. When you name the character at the beginning of the chapter it is just the help I need.

Yes, I don't know who the 'protagonist' is yet, but I'm also not sure it is important at this point.

You are doing some interesting things (present tense, changing first person POV) and are doing it so far with great discipline.

I evaluated the part when the priest announced the death of the Emperor as I read it, and decided on the spot that it worked for me. It was clear how he knew, and seemed natural that he would rush this news to the Council.

I continue to be delighted that you are brining your story to us!

Thanks, RemkoNL. I'll try to post Chapter 3 in a couple of days and Chapter 4 by the end of the week.

Perhaps I misunderstood Peleus. How is that scene "convenient"? I mean, convenient to who . . . Kaira? Anatonia? Me, the writer? I suppose I originally thought Peleus meant that the scene was convenient because Anatonia just happened to walk in on Kaira as the chapter was ending. In that sense, the scene is convenient to me, the writer, because it provides a nice, easy link to the next chapter. Was it forced? Eh, probably. Such is the nature of cliffhangers. Books like Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo and almost anything by Stephen King are full of them. I thought it would be particularly useful in this case, where the chapter won't appear for several days. It reinforces in the reader's mind where they are in the story.



Thanks so much, Acadian. Every time I change a POV, or at the beginning of every chapter, I'll give the name for the POV.

Now, it's off to school in the snow. Egghh.

Let me rephrase it it; it's most unconvenient for Kaira.
You're right though, you need to create openings to base a plot on. Which you did nicely :goodjob:

That was what I meant. Perhaps I did not use correct words so it became confusing.
Anatonia was clearly not comfortable about imprisoning someone who is probably innocent of the murder matter. The scene with Kaira standing over two bodies with a knife in her hand has made her not just an unfortunate bystander but a real suspect. Hence, the scene was a bit too convenient.

But we talked about this long enough. I'm sure you had a good reason to create that particular scene.