C.o.t.D: Chapter 12 - Spoiled Meat

• Posted by A-Pocky-Hah! February 24, 2016 - 1,217 views

  Chapter 12: Spoiled Meat

  “I’m sorry but I must attend to my duties as a priest of Arkay now that the Hall has been cleared.”

  Brother Verulus was intent to stay and perform his duties. No doubt after citizens flocked the Hall of the Dead, paying their respects to their dead. Axius figured that it wasn’t easy to hide the bite marks from them but how the priest does it is beyond his concern. What is was what Eola had planned for him. He was going to be the main course, his main course for the initiation.

  The easy part was going to convince Verulus to follow him to Reachcliff Cave but how is he going to explain the shrine and the tables? Eola said to leave that part to her. She also gave him a pouch of coin to… persuade the priest.

  “I can respect that, but what I’m doing requires two servants of the Divines.” Axius said but his reply was a shake of the head. “I’m willing to pay,” he added, patting his satchel where the sound of coins started clanking with each other inside.

  Verulus took a moment to think and sighed. “I supposed I could come with you on a short venture. Lead on.”

  They were suddenly interrupted by cries of pain from the entrance of Nchuand-Zel. Two guards carried a blue robed man down the stairs. Calcelmo and Aicantar rushed to their aid, dropping what they were doing except for the former who carefully placed back the Dwemer gyro.

  Axius and Verulus too rushed towards the scene. The man’s right leg was dangling, an arrow of unusual craftsmanship protruded out his calf. The guards lay him down on a stone pedestal, hoping that the mages would heal him.

  “What happened to you, boy?” Calcelmo asked in concern. For him, every month there would be one or two scholars coming out of the ruins injured or dead. This one was lucky enough to come out with a minor injury.

  “I was studying some Dwarven gears when… gah, an arrow from out of nowhere hit my leg.” He groaned in pain. “Argh… please make it stop… It burns.”

  Aicantar tried to cast a healing spell on the man’s leg. But before the shimmer of light could reach his wound, he jerked before dying.

  Sorrow filled the area around the dead scholar. Axius overheard the guards whispering something about him being the third one this year.

  “Falmer.” Calcelmo claimed, inspecting the green liquid dripping down the tip of the black arrow. “No doubt those Mers found another way to breach into the excavation site. Guards, tell the Jarl I need a few men to clear the excavation site.”

  The guards followed the Altmer’s order in reluctancy. Clearly the Nords didn’t being ordered around by an Elf.

  “Looks like you’re going have to fill a space in the Hall.” Axius commented to the priest. His face was blank, expressionless except for a faint frown. The priests and priestesses of Arkay show no fear of death due to spending their lifetime with them.

  “Indeed.”

  -------------

  The mountains hue in orange light as the two traverse the rocky mountain side. This time, Axius followed another path that leads to a secret passageway into the shrine. They had to go uphill, through dirt roads, fogs, a river stream and the occasional stray sabre cats.

  They soon set sight upon the palisades of Dushnikh Yal, an Orc stronghold. Standing tall inside the stronghold was the crescent-shaped longhouse where the residents lived. Two sentries eyed on the pair from their watchtowers. Their eyes gave them a warning to leave.

  “Oh, I think we took a wrong turn.” Axius said as he peek above his map, noticing that they have intruded into the Orcs territory.

  They quickly turned back towards the river before the sentries lose patience and Orcs were known for their short temper.

  The secret entrance was somewhere near the falls, marked by a dead tree. The entrance itself was made of stone, easily blending with the rocks and the environment.

  “There’s the entrance.” Axius pointed at the black iron door of Nordic design that gave it away.

  “May the Eight protect us.”

  It was him that should pray for protection as Verulus wasn’t equipped with anything except his orange robe and a petty iron dagger. His knowledge of spells were only restricted to a few Restoration magic like all priests and priestesses were.

  Axius thought it was best to hide the truth from the priest. An oblivious priest is more believable than an informed priest in the cannibals eyes.

  Faint sounds of chatter echoed inside the entrance as they entered which made Verulus skeptical. There were no Draugrs nor treasures inside the ruin, nothing. This made Axius nervous. He knows that the priest would realise his bluff anytime soon. All those days of waiting would be wasted if he ran away.

  When they turned around, both were surprised at the number of people and food placed on the table in the shrine room. The chatter in the room turned to silence as a dozen eyes look at at the priest. Their expressions revealed many things when Axius observed them, Main course, Fresh meat and Dinner is served were some of them.

  “Wait, what’s going on here? Who are these people?” Verulus asked Axius. From his tone, he knew that the priest was annoyed to find out he had been drawn away from his duties.

  Axius couldn’t come up with an answer. This was as far as Eola told him to do. He raised his hands in a defensive gesture, trying to calm the priest down but to no avail.

  “Welcome, priest of Arkay.” Eola announced herself.

  She wore an embroidered green robe as part of the Imperial’s initiation into her coven. Instead of floral motifs, the robe was embroidered with all types of insects befitting a servant of Namira. A hood covered her head, hiding the face paint and her left blind eye.

  Verulus shifted his eyes and anger towards the Breton. “Who.. who are you?” He asked her, startled by the motifs of her robe.

  “I’m your friend. We all are.” She put on a sweet facade which hid her true intentions.

  “You’re… you’re my friend.” A sudden change in Verulus’s attitude caught Axius’s attention, for he knew the priest was entranced by some kind of illusion spell.

  “Yes, I’m your friend, and I’ve invited you to join us for dinner.” Eola smiled, knowing her spell worked.

  “I’ve been invited to dinner… I’m so hungry…”

  “Why don’t you lay down and rest, while we get the meal ready?”

  Verulus nodded, “I need to lay down. It’ll just be for a minute.”

  Eola escorted him to his “bed” which was the altar of Namira. Axius followed behind, his instincts would’ve told him to execute his plan, now that all the cannibals were here. But he needed to count how many were here and who needed to be taken out first.

  He counted six in total, including Eola. There were two people wearing black robes, obviously necromancers or conjurers. They had to be taken out first in addition to Eola, who he had known most of her spells by now.

  But the three others looked familiar, like he had seen them before. Eola called him out before he could closely inspect the three. Verulus was already lying down on the altar, a chain spike dangling right above his stomach.

  Axius stood beside Eola. She gave him a ceremonial steel dagger to complete his initiation. The priest’s fate was in his hands as the guests watched in anticipation.

  “Best do it quickly. The illusion will wear off anytime soon.” She whispered to the Imperial’s ear.

  He raised the blade high for all to see. Everyone stood up from their seat, unable to contain their hunger any longer.

  The waiting is finally over. Now, it’s time for the execution.

  Axius plunged the blade down but instead of aiming for Brother Verulus, the blade aimed for Eola. Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief as blood flowed out of her stomach.

  “Wh… why...?” Under the gurgles of blood in her mouth, there was a sense of betrayal.

  “Sorry, Eola. But I lied about the whole cannibal thing. In fact, I actually preferred my meat medium cooked.” He yanked out the blade, causing her to fall down, gasping for air one last time before tumbling down the stone steps of the shrine. She died, knowing that her coven’s downfall was her own doing.

  “Traitor!” and “Hypocrite!”, the guests yelled before the two black robed individuals started readying their spells.

  Axius pulled up his hood and readied his mace and shield. “My name is Axius Cornell, Knight of the Dragon Templar Order.” He proclaimed to the hostile crowd. “And in the eyes of Lord Arkay, you are all guilty for desecrating the dead and will pay the price in this world… and after.”

  He leaped forward, overpowering the first mage as he landed. Forced down by the weight of the Imperial in his steel armor, the mage couldn’t move. Her eyes caught the gleaming pointed tip of the mace which plunged downwards, turning her face into mush.

  Axius turned towards the other mage, a male Altmer from the way he threw insults at the knight. He let out a strong burst of lightning and fire at the Imperial, intending to exact revenge for his leader’s death, even if it meant bringing the whole place down.

  The volley of spells was too much for Axius to bear. So he rolled away and hid behind a pile of rubble, hoping that the Altmer would run out of magicka anytime soon.

  An angry mage is better than a well-focused mage, Corlion once said to him. He peeked out of the rock to get a good view on the mage, only to have a chip of rock hit his forehead. He rubbed his forehead, cursing at the fact that he’s out of range and unable to move without getting burned or fryed.

  “You can’t hide behind there forever, traitor!” The Altmer yelled. His spells became deadlier and wilder, one nearly missed Axius’s hood by an inch.

  For fuck sake’s, how large is that Elf’s magicka pool?! He couldn’t hide behind cover any longer. The spells pound the pile of rubble until cracks started appearing. It was only a matter of time before he was left exposed and in the mercy of the mage’s onslaught.

  Out of time and ideas, he decided to take a bold move to charge at the Altmer head-on. Dropping his shield, Axius casted a ward, blocking most of the incoming attacks. The Altmer frantically stepped back, aimlessly firing at the charging Imperial. He suddenly tripped over a rock that finally ended his unceasing torrent.

  Before he could get up, Axius’s mace smashed through his golden, blond-haired head, sending bits of flesh and blood flying.

  While his primary targets were eliminated, Axius scanned the area for the three remaining cannibals. They seem to have went missing after the mages started attacking him. After searching every corner of the room for any sign of the cannibals, he made one disheartening conclusion. They escaped. Divines damn their lives.

  Suddenly, a loud gasp erupted from the shrine, signalling Axius that Verulus has woken up from his “sleep”.

  “What.. what happened here? Where am I?” He was shocked to see three dead bodies lying in front of him. More shocking was the altar he was lying on. He quickly stood up, moving away from the sinister looking shrine. The priest glanced at Axius with a look that’s half confused and half bitter, seemingly knowing that the Imperial was involved in this.

  “Before you ask, know that I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess. It was the only way to bring all the cannibals here in one place.”

  Axius’s apology surprised the priest. “Wait, so these cannibals are the ones who were plaguing the Hall of the Dead? But I thought you had taken care of it?”

  “I.. kinda lied about that.”

  Verulus felt quite annoyed by his fellow Imperial’s reply but he was grateful enough not to be served for dinner, literally.

  “What about that thing?” The priest pointed at the grotesque shrine. Even with the threat of the cannibals have been reduced, Namira’s shrine will draw out more cannibals into the cave.

  “Best thing we could do now is seal this place.” Axius replied, picking up his shield.

  “And what happens after that is done?” Verulus asked.

  “After this? I’m going back to my room at the Silver-Blood Inn.”

  -------------

  When he entered the Silver-Blood Inn, everything felt different. Like a hundred eyes watched over him just like during his first day here. Sellswords were still numerous in the city, their blades and armor smelled of blood and sweat from a day of killing Forsworn. There were also a few guards off-duty, but they were like patches of moss against walls of gray and black stone.

  “Oh, it’s you.” The Kleppr the Innkeeper greeted when Axius sat down. “Heard about what happen with you and the guards. So, what can I get you?”

  “Alto wine if you have any. If not, water will suffice. I’m not gonna have any mead soothing my throat.”

  Before Kleppr could turn around and fetch the man’s wine, a hand slammed the counter, though the sound was muffled by the laughs and songs that flooded the inn.

  “Give me one of your sweetest mead, innkeeper. Unlike this milk-drinker over here.” A voice ordered.

  Something about the man’s voice caught Axius’s attention. It was coarse and loud, sounded Nord but had a bit of Brumese in it. But most of all, was his tone when he called him, “milk-drinker”.

  He slowly turned around to look at the Nord, clad in a different type of steel armor that appeared to be carved and brown-haired.

  The Nord looked at the Imperial’s curious eyes and said to him the word that only a few would dare to call him.

  “What’s the matter, whelp? Never seen a Nord before?”

  “Ser Radovir!?” Out of all the people he’d known, he didn’t expect to bump into Ser Radovir Oakheart.

  “The one and only.” He added as Kleppr returned with a tray of wine and mead.

  “What are you doing here? I thought my uncle sent me on a solo assignment.”

  “He did.” The middle-aged Nord picked up the bottle of mead and took a swig at it. “Thought I might spend some time in Skyrim after finishing an assignment in Bruma.”

  “And I don’t suppose your ‘assignment’ involves drinking at the inn?”

  Ser Radovir gave Axius a sour look when he mentioned the drinking part. The Imperial knew what would happen next and wished that he took back what he had just said.

  “It’s better to drink than whore, boy.” He rebutted before turning his sour expression to a stone-cold look.

  “Fair enough.” The two shared their drinks together just like how everyone in the Order ate together during dinner, except for the Grandmaster who stayed in his chamber at the top of Dragon’s Tooth.

  It felt good knowing to have someone he’d known by his side, even if that someone was his trainer who constantly berates him and the other Initiates during his first three years at the Monastery.

  “I think it’s time to leave this place.” Ser Radovir said bluntly after emptying his bottle to the last sip. “And I meant both of us.”

  “Both of us?”

  “I didn’t came all the way here just for sightseeing, boy. The Marshal ordered me to bring you back, said something about the next step of your training. Remember, I don’t take no for an answer.”

  Axius was left confused. It has been only twenty days since he’d left the Monastery and there was still much to do here. But he needed to obey the Marshal’s order, as a knight and as a nephew. Something about this “next step” intrigues him.

  “Let me just pack my stuff.” Axius didn’t even have enough time to finish his wine. He packed up his equipment, leaving behind the least important items to lighten their journey.

  When he was all set, Ser Radovir lead him towards the stables outside the city gates. Two horses, healthy, well-equipped and saddled waited for them in front of the stone building.

  -------------

  For six days they travelled, crossing the Pale Pass and heading down south of the Jerall Mountains. They had to switch their horses for the Cyrodillic ones at Bruma to better navigate the various terrains of Cyrodiil.

  A checkpoint was erected on the Blue Road. The red dragon of the Empire flapped above the tent as they were stopped by a soldier of the Imperial Legion.

  The soldier asked the knights some simple questions, where did you come from? Why are you here? Can I see your supplies? This went on at every checkpoint. The one who suffered the most was Ser Radovir as his backpack was scrutinized, looking for any signs of him being a Talos worshipper. When they got through the last checkpoint, Axius could overhear the Nord cursing at the Thalmor and their checkpoints.

  On the eighth day, they finally arrived at the Monastery. The stone walls that seem to merge into the mountainside of Dragon’s Tooth were a pleasant sight to see after days of living in the North. The towers cast long shadows which shaded the two when they stride into it.

  A stable master helped them off their horses and tended to them. Ser Radovir told Axius to go ahead without him, saying that the Marshal would be at his usual place.

  Axius took a moment to look around and breathe in the air around him. It brought him memories that turned him into the man he has become. He heard the sound of swords ringing at the courtyard filled knights and initiates testing their dull steel against each other.

  “Look who has returned.” A voice announced himself from near a tree. An Altmer appeared from behind, wearing brown robes and gray sandals.

  “Corlion. It’s good to see you. You haven’t changed a bit.”

  “It’s one of the advantages of being a Mer.” He smirked. “So, what brings you back here other than completing your mission.”

  “Ser Radovir told me that my uncle wants me to come back here. Something about ‘the next step of my training.’ Know anything about that, Corlion?”

  The Altmer’s smiled had flatten and eyes widened when he heard what Axius had said. It was like he knew what it meant and was surprised by it.

  “I.. I don’t know. I think it’s best you see Ser Ignacius now.”

  Corlion then excused himself after one of the knights at the courtyard called for him. Axius wasted no time entering the Monastery. Whatever this “next step” was wasn’t something to take lightly, not after seeing Corlion’s reaction to it.

  He climbed up the spiral staircase until he reached the fourth floor. It was a tiring climb considering the fact that he had to climb another set of staircases and pass through two corridors, each was the length of a small merchant ship.

  Ser Ignacius Cornell, one of the three Marshals of the Order kneeled at the center of a giant circle, depicting knights raising their swords and a dragon soaring above them, meditating or praying.

  “Welcome back, nephew.” He heard Axius enter when he step foot in the room. He stood up, the thin strands of white hair shimmered as it touched the light that shone from the windows. His clothes were nothing more than a hauberk underneath a charcoal surcoat. “I’ve heard that your trip to Dawnstar was successful.”

  “Indeed it was, ser.” Axius replied, bowing his head to show respect. “I was chasing another lead before you sent Ser Radovir after me.”

  “That can wait later. For now, there’s a more important matter at hand.”

  “This must be about the ‘next step’ of my training.” He looked into his uncle’s eyes. “Tell me, Uncle. What is this ‘next step?’ Have I not learned everything I know from the Order? And why is Corlion surprised when I ask him?”

  Ser Ignacius sighed. “What do you know about our Order, Axius?” He asked his nephew.

  “The Dragon Templar Order was an organization created by remnants of the Dragonknights during the late 2nd Era.” Axius replied without taking a moment to catch his breath, as if he had memorized it by heart.

  “Good. But do you know about the Dragonknights?”

  He wasn’t prepared for that type of question. There was little knowledge about the Dragonknights of the 2nd Era. The only information he could find about them was that they were related to the Dragonguards.

  “They.. were… former Dragonguards?” He tried to sound confident about his answer but it sounded less than that.

  Ser Ignacius shook his head. “Even history has forgotten about the dragonknights but not us.” Two figures emerged from behind the stone pillars at the Marshal’s signal. It was the other two Marshals, Lady Jeanne and Ederith, both wore shades of black like there was a funeral nearby. “Sometimes, legacies are passed down through people instead of songs and stories.”

  “What are you trying to say, Uncle?” Axius was confused at the situation, his uncle was talking about dragonknights and history and the two other Marshals looked at him in silence.

  “What I’m trying to say, Axius, is simple.” Ser Ignacius walked towards his nephew and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle pat.

  “It’s time you learn the true meaning of the dragonknight, the Dovahkendaar.”

  Table of Contents

  

  Author's Note:

  At first, this chapter was supposed to be only about the "Taste of  Death" questline but that felt to short. So, I decided to combine two chapters into one. Note that the description of the Monastery may vary from the Prologue and Chapter 1 as those chapters may require some minor editing in the future.

  Next chapter requires me to delve deeper into the 2nd Era lore, oh boy...