Gathering Clouds, Chapter 25

  • Chapter 25

     

     

     

     

                          The first thing Harrow asked for after he woke was a selection of books from the library. The healers had been all too happy to oblige, if only to keep him inside the hospice.

     

                    Takarro paused briefly outside his room. Part of him felt a bit of unease as he wondered how he would take the news. I’m sorry, child, but it’s for your own good.

     

                    He pushed open the door. Harrow’s eyes, the first part of his body to recover full functionality, flickered to him immediately. The boy struggled to sit up, inclining his head in his best approximation of a bow. ‘Good morning, Grandmaster.’

     

                    ‘Please, don’t force yourself,’ Takarro said, raising a hand. ‘Your motor cortex hasn’t recovered fully yet.’

     

                    ‘I’ll be all right, Grandmaster,’ Harrow said, slumping back down on his pillow again. ‘Fine movement is beginning to come back. I can already hold small objects and flip pages.’

     

                    ‘So I see,’ Takarro noted. ‘The Ballad of Ser Shiny the Saint, by an “Anonymous Tusker”. Showing an interest in contemporary Orcish literature, are we?’

     

                    ‘It’s a great deal more vulgar than most of the other books I’ve read.’ Harrow smiled lightly, snapping the book shut and placing it on his nightstand. ‘But it offers great insight into- ungh.’ He stopped midsentence and massaged his temples.

     

                    ‘Headaches still trouble you.’

     

                    ‘Lingering effects of the Yellow Flask,’ Harrow rubbed his forehead, wincing. ‘It was worth the pain, though. Even now, while I’m still incapacitated and confined to bed rest, I can feel my reflexes improve. I can see more in a brief period of time, and outside stimulus registers much more quickly than before.’

     

                    ‘Yes, and the trauma almost ruptured all the major blood vessels in your brain,’ Takarro retorted. ‘You nearly died of massive hemorrhagic stroke. Prior to that, you risked permanent muscle paralysis by taking the Pale Flask. Our healers were able to prevent both of those outcomes, but your luck won’t hold forever.’

     

                    ‘I survived nonetheless, Grandmaster. Don’t worry, I should recover within the next week, and be back at full capacity in another. The Green Flask is scheduled for Year 182 in Morning Star of next year, so I should have plenty of time to prepare.’

     

                    ‘Harrow,’ Takarro sighed. ‘You know that the Rendanshu potions move in ascending order in terms of complexity and risk. Look at what the Yellow Flask did to you. How can you honestly think to weather the Green Flask without harm?’

     

                    ‘With respect, Grandmaster,’ Harrow said, the stubborn glint lighting up again in his eyes. Just like his father. ‘Harm or not, the Green Flask would allow me to become much more effective in my assignments, as I can exert myself for far longer periods of time. It’s only logical to take it after the modifications to my muscles and reflexes, to ensure that I make the most out of my advantage. Seeing as normal potions no longer affect our bodies, this becomes even more important if we want to recover and retain fighting ability in the field.’

     

                    ‘That’s the same argument you used last time,’ Takarro countered. ‘And what happens after you finish the Green Flask, if somehow you manage to escape catastrophic damage to your lungs? Will you move on to the Blue and Golden Flasks, and risk having the Magicka and ki ripped completely out of your body? If by some miracle you survive, will you proceed to the Red Flask, ignoring what it could do to your blood? Will you ignore all semblance of reason and try to take the Black Flask, which has been known to kill even Po’ Tun?’

     

                    To that Harrow had no reply.

     

                    ‘I won’t lose one of my finest kits just because he killed himself with Rendanshu. That’s why I’ve taken you off the candidate list for the potions.’

     

                    He half expected Harrow to shout, to curse him for his cruelty, to yell at him to get out. Instead, he watched as the boy withdrew back into himself, eyes downcast. He could almost hear his confidence crumble.

     

                    ‘You don’t need them, you know,’ Takarro said gently. ‘The shinobi of ancient times did not make use of Rendanshu, and still they managed to drive such fear into the Tsaesci they retreated from Po’ Tun lands entirely. You yourself managed to accomplish most of your missions without relying on physical superiority.’

     

                    ‘I only scraped by, Grandmaster-’

     

                    ‘Good! That’s what a shinobi does. That’s what a Shadeclaw does. We scrape by. We use all the dirty tricks taught to us, think of some more on our own, lower ourselves to the most depraved, unseemly depths, and exploit the most unfair advantages; we walk in shadows, lurk in gutters, hide and cheat like cowards, run and scurry like rats, all to tip the odds in our favour. So stop agonising over being a good shinobi, Harrow, because you already are one.’

     

                    ‘And the advantages that Rendanshu offers mean nothing?’

     

                    ‘Oh, pooh, Rendanshu, Rendanshu! It’s a tool, child, nothing more. Just like kunai, or shuriken, or katana, or kama, or smoke pellets. Just like your body and your mind. It’s not the only tool you have at your disposal. It’s not even the most important. In fact, I daresay you’re only so fixated on it because it’s the one tool you have trouble accessing!’

     

                    Harrow didn’t say anything to that either. Feeling a hint of frustration temper his sympathy, Takarro patted the boy on the shoulder and went back to the door, leaving a small Akaviri proverb slip on his nightstand.

     

                    ‘Don’t conform blindly and try to force yourself behind the footsteps of others, only to end up losing sight of who you are and what you are truly capable of. I won’t have a kit like you waste his potential like that.’

     

                    With that, the Grandmaster disappeared. Harrow stared. There had been no sound, no smoke, no distraction or sleight of hand, and he was sure he hadn’t looked away. How did he do that?

     

                    Turning to his nightstand, he picked up the proverb slip with fumbling fingers, translating the Eastern Akaviri in his head.

     

                    ‘He who craves an edge can always hone his own.’


     

                    The city of Skingrad had been severely damaged in the final days of the Great War, where the Imperial Legion clashed against Aldmeri Dominion reinforcements rushing to assist their comrades in the Battle of the Red Ring. As such, Thalmor presence is treated with thinly veiled hostility by practically all inhabitants, and patrols rarely set foot there as their mer have been known to disappear under mysterious circumstances.

     

                    That was why Lencius knew that the Justiciars were here for him the moment they arrived in town. Nothing else is as important. They rose to follow him as he left the restaurant, staring straight at him and shuffling menacingly. They weren’t even trying to remain inconspicuous.

     

                    He reached for the Colovian composite bow strung on his back as the door closed for a moment behind him, then stopped and grimaced. I can’t start a fight here. I could try to get the guards’ help… but they don’t have authority over Thalmor, and I’m in Legion gear myself, for the love of Akatosh. If I can’t do anything, who can? The Fighter’s Guild? That’s even worse, and they’re on the other side of town. They’d catch up to me well before that.

     

                    So he kept walking, leading the seven Altmer into an alleyway. He turned a corner, then immediately nocked an arrow.

     

                    Lencius drew the bow and shot it once into the wall as a warning, forcing the elves to come to a stop. He nocked another arrow, his trained hands completing the motion in half a second.

     

                    ‘Now that I have your attention,’ he snarled. ‘What are you Old Maries doing here?’

     

                    ‘We should be the ones asking you that,’ the captain of the Justiciars said smoothly, taking one step forward. ‘I thought old Titus wanted our visit to be a secret, but barely a week after our agreement he sends one of the Penitus Oculatus to rendezvous with one of these… Shadeclaws? You can understand our curiosity.’

     

                    There’s been a leak.

     

                    ‘You,’ Lencius growled, shifting his aim. ‘I don’t like you. Refer to His Majesty by his title.’

     

                    ‘So ill-tempered. We simply want to oversee this meeting of yours, that’s all.’

     

                    ‘These are the Emperor’s affairs, not yours.’

     

                    ‘Foolish Imperial,’ the captain purred, stroking the side of his sword. ‘Titus’s affairs are our affairs, as is-’

     

                    Lencius shot him.

     

                    The Altmer cried out in shock as the captain toppled backwards, a shaft sprouting neatly from his right eye.

     

                    ‘He was pissing me off,’ Lencius shrugged. ‘Guess my hand slipped.’

     

                    They charged him. His second arrow found its mark just below a Justiciar’s neck, in the hollow above his chest. His third arrow powered into another’s belly, finding a chink in his armour. His fourth arrow never left his bow. A Justiciar grabbed him by the wrist and forced him to the ground, where the rest of them held him down by his hands and legs.

     

                    ‘Son of a bitch, he’s quick!’

     

                    ‘Did you see his hands move? He’s part Bosmer, he has to be!’

     

                    ‘Why did you shoot?’

     

                    ‘Please,’ Lencius snorted. ‘I know a team assigned to kill me when I see one.’

     

                    ‘Where were you told to meet the Shadeclaw agent?’ The question was accompanied by the hard bottom of a boot on his fingers. Lencius groaned, but he didn’t answer.

     

                    ‘Cover his mouth before you break anything,’ one of the Justiciars advised. ‘Try not to draw too much-’

     

                    ‘Oh, come on now, really?

     

                    A warm female voice, coming from behind them. The Justiciars stood up immediately, releasing Lencius but also taking his bow. All he had left now was the knife in his boot, and taking on four Dominion footmer at once with nothing but a half-foot-long blade was suicide. So he waited behind them and watched, biding his time.

     

                    The voice belonged to a Khajiit with lustrous golden fur and green, fiery eyes. She was dressed in a dark grey tunic and a curved Akaviri sword hung at her side.

     

                    ‘Really? Really,’ the Khajiit continued, walking forward like she hadn’t a care in the world. ‘Why is it always the alleyways? It’s almost as if you people think that this is some kind of miracle hiding place and that nobody ever comes in here, when most back exits lead into the alleyways in the first place! Oh, and what’s this?’

     

                    She tapped the paved ground impatiently with a foot and Lencius had to smile. He hadn’t seen anybody quite so animated before.

     

                    ‘It’s a road! Do you know who uses roads? People! By Masser, if I see one more shady deal going on in back alleys I’m going to hack up a hairball.’

     

                    ‘Get out of here, cat,’ one of the Altmer threatened her with the tip of his sword. ‘This is none of your business.’

     

                    ‘You know how to use those things, boys?’

     

                    The Justiciars began to circle her and Lencius cringed. Not good.

     

                    ‘I mean it. Scamper off before we run you through and skin you for a trophy.’

     

                    ‘All right, all right… hey, who’s that over there? Is he all right?’

     

                    ‘Last chan-’

     

                    Lencius blinked. The Khajiit had put her hand discreetly on the hilt of her katana as she pointed at him, and then she was suddenly five feet away in front of him, sliding the last few inches of steel back into her scabbard – but when did she even draw her sword?

     

                    ‘Hey there,’ she waved. ‘You okay?’

     

                    The four Justiciars had stiffened. One by one they relaxed, blood spurting from opened throats and severed heads. Their bodies fell to the ground with a series of thumps.

     

                    Lencius gaped at the Khajiit – no, the Po’ Tun. Never in his life had he seen swordsmanship of this level. The shinobi grinned cheerily at him. ‘You’re the Emperor’s representative, I assume? My name is Unaka. I’m your contact from Tsukikage.’


     

                    ‘How did he react?’ Jorra asked, frowning.

     

                    ‘About as well as you can expect,’ Takarro answered, sighing. ‘He looked a little depressed, more so than usual, but I have faith that he will pull through. He’s not a child anymore.’

     

                    ‘I see – what is that?’

     

                    A glowing, bluish orb was hovering around the window. Takarro opened it, and the orb glided into the Grandmaster’s office. Bengakhi was already at the ready, unfurling a roll of paper.

     

                    The orb pressed into the paper and became a series of bright letters, shifting as they began to arrange themselves into words.

     

                    ‘Tsaesci long-distance scribe spell,’ Jorra noted. ‘Not many in Tsukikage practice these.’

     

                    ‘This one belongs to Unaka.’ Takarro motioned for Bengakhi to set the piece of paper down at his desk. ‘If she’s close enough to use the spell, she should be back within two to three days.’

     

                    ‘Unaka was away on a mission?’

     

                    ‘Two weeks ago the Emperor activated the emergency Shadeclaw request beacon stationed in his office. We left a message at one of the dead drop sites in Cyrodiil, asking him to send a representative to Skingrad. Unaka was sent to meet him.’

     

                    ‘It would have been a lot more convenient if the beacon allowed basic communication,’ Bengakhi rumbled.

     

                    ‘A necessary sacrifice to preserve Tsukikage’s secrecy.’ Takarro peered at the finished text. His face grew sombre.

     

                    ‘Bengakhi,’ he said as he finished. ‘Please contact the West Wall sentinels and have them double the ranging frequency. Scouts are to make twice the rounds. Run armoury and foundry inventory checks. The eatery cooks will need prepare for a feast. And then call for the Council to convene, we have a great deal to discuss.’

     

                    ‘Situation, Takarro-dro?’ Bengakhi asked as he stood and headed for the door.

     

                    ‘The Emperor is visiting Tsukikage.’ The Grandmaster stared at Unaka’s message. ‘And he’s bringing the Thalmor with him.’




     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

Comments

13 Comments   |   A-Pocky-Hah! and 6 others like this.
  • Caladran
    Caladran   ·  January 18, 2019
    I wonder who's the Tusker, hee hee. xD Ooh, The Thalmor again... not good!
  • Karver the Lorc
    Karver the Lorc   ·  February 4, 2017
    Anonymous Tusker, hehehe. Guess someone should add that to their resume :D


    And Thalmor paying a visit. Oh boy, not liking that a little bit. 
    • The Long-Chapper
      The Long-Chapper
      Karver the Lorc
      Karver the Lorc
      Karver the Lorc
      Anonymous Tusker, hehehe. Guess someone should add that to their resume :D


      And Thalmor paying a visit. Oh boy, not liking that a little bit. 
        ·  February 4, 2017
      I wan to know what that book is about, don't you? 


      And I sense another purge. 
  • A-Pocky-Hah!
    A-Pocky-Hah!   ·  February 4, 2017
    *sigh* For a group known to assassinate and abduct their targets, the Thalmor really do suck at tailing.
    The Ballad of Ser Shiny the Saint. I didn't knew a certain tusker could publish such a work.
    • A-Pocky-Hah!
      A-Pocky-Hah!
      A-Pocky-Hah!
      A-Pocky-Hah!
      A-Pocky-Hah!
      *sigh* For a group known to assassinate and abduct their targets, the Thalmor really do suck at tailing.
      The Ballad of Ser Shiny the Saint. I didn't knew a certain tusker could publish such a work.
        ·  February 4, 2017
      Brainwashed Khajiit agents? I beg to differ on that.
      • The Sunflower Manual
        The Sunflower Manual
        A-Pocky-Hah!
        A-Pocky-Hah!
        A-Pocky-Hah!
        Brainwashed Khajiit agents? I beg to differ on that.
          ·  February 4, 2017
        Well, 'misled' might be a better word, as I feel that many Khajiit give the Thalmor undue credit for restoring Masser and Secunda.

        Oh, and if I made a mistake with the lore, do please tell me, Kaiser-jo. Your comment a few weeks earlier about...  more
        • A-Pocky-Hah!
          A-Pocky-Hah!
          The Sunflower Manual
          The Sunflower Manual
          The Sunflower Manual
          Well, 'misled' might be a better word, as I feel that many Khajiit give the Thalmor undue credit for restoring Masser and Secunda.

          Oh, and if I made a mistake with the lore, do please tell me, Kaiser-jo. Your comment a few weeks earlier about the war end...  more
            ·  February 4, 2017
          Well I only a few things about lore. But I'll try to inform you on some parts. If you really want to get in-depth, talk to Karver or Lissette.
          • Karver the Lorc
            Karver the Lorc
            A-Pocky-Hah!
            A-Pocky-Hah!
            A-Pocky-Hah!
            Well I only a few things about lore. But I'll try to inform you on some parts. If you really want to get in-depth, talk to Karver or Lissette.
              ·  February 4, 2017
            Pff, don´t sell yourself short, mate. We all know you got the knowledge. :)
            • A-Pocky-Hah!
              A-Pocky-Hah!
              Karver the Lorc
              Karver the Lorc
              Karver the Lorc
              Pff, don´t sell yourself short, mate. We all know you got the knowledge. :)
                ·  February 4, 2017
              Oh please, I can't even read the 36 lessons without having a mind-fuck for every lesson. :^)
              Maybe I can handle most of the lore, but definitely not the meta.
        • Karver the Lorc
          Karver the Lorc
          The Sunflower Manual
          The Sunflower Manual
          The Sunflower Manual
          Well, 'misled' might be a better word, as I feel that many Khajiit give the Thalmor undue credit for restoring Masser and Secunda.

          Oh, and if I made a mistake with the lore, do please tell me, Kaiser-jo. Your comment a few weeks earlier about the war end...  more
            ·  February 4, 2017
          Nah, you are right. Most Khajiit are eternaly grateful to Thalmor for "restoring" the moons back with their rediscovered "Dawn Magic"
    • The Sunflower Manual
      The Sunflower Manual
      A-Pocky-Hah!
      A-Pocky-Hah!
      A-Pocky-Hah!
      *sigh* For a group known to assassinate and abduct their targets, the Thalmor really do suck at tailing.
      The Ballad of Ser Shiny the Saint. I didn't knew a certain tusker could publish such a work.
        ·  February 4, 2017
      Why else do you think they have to rely on contacts, interrogation and brainwashed Khajiit agents? Those Justiciars stick out like sore thumbs :P
      • The Long-Chapper
        The Long-Chapper
        The Sunflower Manual
        The Sunflower Manual
        The Sunflower Manual
        Why else do you think they have to rely on contacts, interrogation and brainwashed Khajiit agents? Those Justiciars stick out like sore thumbs :P
          ·  February 4, 2017
        I think we need to give the THalmor way more credit for their intelligence. 
        • The Sunflower Manual
          The Sunflower Manual
          The Long-Chapper
          The Long-Chapper
          The Long-Chapper
          I think we need to give the THalmor way more credit for their intelligence. 
            ·  February 4, 2017
          Oh, I'm not ignoring how effective their tactics are or how pervasive their espionage circles are. I'm just saying that their standard operatives are... a wee bit obvious.

          I mean, they're seven feet tall and dressed either in flowing robes or...  more