Void's Fury, Part 6: A Meeting of Minds

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                The Palace of Kings was all but empty when they entered. It was a stark contrast to the number of people and volume they generated that morning when Rez had walked in. Ralof led the way to the “War Room” as they called it. It was simply a small room with a large table and map of Skyrim on it, but all the major planning of the civil war from the previous year was decided in this room. Ulfric, however, was not there. Ralof turned to one of the guards that stood against the wall. “Where is the High King?” he asked.

                “He is seeking council with The Unliving, sir.”

                “Thank you,” Ralof said. The two men headed back for the entrance to the palace an turned right towards the upstairs chambers where Wuunferth’s laboratory was. The second floor was even quieter than the main hall, but the men could hear a conversation carrying down the hall. As they approached the room at the back, they could hear Wuunferth’s old voice addressing Ulfric. “Now, after this most recent test on the tissue of… What was the Argonian’s name again?”

                “Geer-Za,” replied Rez’Aleem as he and Ralof entered the room.

                “You’re finally back,” yawned Ulfric. He had not slept much in the past few days because he was preparing for Rez’ return to Skyrim. He wanted to make sure that the Dragonborn received a warm welcome. Now all of this standing around and talking was getting the better of him.

                “As I was saying,” said Wuunferth, “After testing Geer-Za’s skin tissues again, I have determined that the strain of vampirism that he contracted originated from Morrowind, but there are some discrepancies. Firstly, even a direct bite from a vampire would not cause the change within mere seconds. It would still take a few hours. Secondly, his jaw structure and mouth had changed significantly. Normally, the canines elongate and some muscle tissue forms at the jaws, but the jaw itself does not enlarge because of this. Lastly, you say that this man spoke of visions from his attacker?”

                “That is what the men told me. Yes,” replied Ulfric.

                “That seems most unusual. Usually the disease is the only thing that is transferred. I am thinking that this strain of vampirism is not only extremely old and undiluted, but also a mutation of the normal strain of the disease itself. What say you, Dragonborn? I was told that you spoke to Geer-Za.”

                Rez stood for a moment, trying to remember what all the Argonian told him that morning. At last, he spoke. “He spoke of a battle at Red Mountain and people’s skin changing.”

                “He speaks of the Battle of Red Mountain where the Dwemer disappeared and the Chimer became the Dunmer? That was thousands of years ago,” questioned Wuunferth.

                “I am only telling you what he said, Master Wuunferth,” Rez remarked. “He said that this Mer did not change and that he still had golden skin. After that, the memory shifted to him fighting people in darkness. The last thing he said was that the elf appeared somewhere outside of Windhelm. Any idea what that means?” asked Rez.

                “Nothing off the top of my head,” Wuunferth remarked. “Let me think on it for a few days. In the meantime, I have created tools that are to be passed out to every merchant in the province. These tools have been enchanted to detect Alteration spells.” Wuunferth held out a piece of charcoal to the other men. In his other hand, he produced some gold from his cloak. He moved the charcoal over the gold and the gold began to glow a purple color. “This piece of gold ore was transmuted from a piece of iron by yours truly. If this elf we are looking for did this himself, we know that he must be a very powerful mage. Unfortunately for him, now we will be able to catch him if he shows his face. I have a few experiments I would like to conduct on him. Now, where has he gone?”

                “We are not sure,” stated Ralof. “Geer-Za said that he simply disappeared.”

                “Hmm, definitely a powerful mage,” Wuunferth commented. “What now?”

     

                Rez had thought of the answer to that question since he had left Whiterun. So when Wuunferth asked, he answered almost before the mage finished talking. “We need more information about all of this. Ralof, I want you to head for the College. They owe me a favor, so you should have easy access to the Arcanaeum. Look for any books related to Red Mountain and the Dunmer. I want to know why he did not change with the rest of his people. Wuunferth, you are a neutral party, so I want you to go to the Grey Quarter and talk to the people. Ask if they have seen this mage.”

                “And what are you going to do?” asked Ulfric.

                “I’m going to talk to are assets in the south. They should have some information about these three dead men.” With that, Ulfric, Ralof and Rez left Wuunferth’s room and headed for the main hall. Ulfric bade them both farewell and retired to his quarters for the night. Rez left the palace with Ralof in tow. “Rez, why are you going to the Thieves Guild?”

                “Those men we found were no mere bandits. They were doing a job for this mage. I think the Guild may have made the introductions. Either way, they know almost all criminal activity that goes on in Skyrim. They will know something.”

     

                The two men entered Candlehearth Hall and headed for the upstairs. Rez’Aleem turned towards his room and said to Ralof, “You grab us a table. I need to get out of this Steel Plate. It’s been killing my back for hours.” Ralof nodded and continued on without his friend. Rez removed the heavy armor and laid it back in his trunk before producing his enchanted Scaled armor. He donned his armor and turned to the bed. He knelt down next to it and reached underneath. He felt around and finally grabbed his new blade. While he was home in Hammerfell, he commissioned one of the greatest blacksmiths in the province to create him a true Hammerfell blade. Rez unwrapped the blade from its linen cloth and unsheathed it from its scabbard. It was a large, two-handed Scimitar. The blade shined like the sun in the dimly lit room. He looked at the blade for a few seconds before returning it to the scabbard he had secured to his back.

     

                Rez wandered upstairs and sat at the table Ralof had reserved for them. “I already ordered you some ale. She’ll be back in a bit,” said Ralof. Rez looked at him and nodded. The waitress brought them their drinks and asked what food they would like. After the men got their food, they ate and sat quietly for a long time, drinking and smoking. Ralof broke the silence. “You know Rez, I never did ask you what you do in Hammerfell.”

    “Why do you ask?”

                “After seeing you handle everything today, it makes me think that it has something to do with your profession in Hammerfell.”

                “Well, do you see my mustache?”

    Ralof had never paid attention to Rez’ facial hair, it was just another part of Rez’ strong face to him. He looked at it and noticed how the mustache came down to just above his chin, resembling a horshoe. The hair itself was braided with small strips of what looked like leather holding it in place. The very ends were brought to a sharp tip that resembled a spike. “I have never paid attention to it. Does it mean?”

    “We call it a horsehoe. It’s a badge of office for us Marshalls.”

    “What are Marshalls?”

    “After Hammerfell left the Empire, there was much civil unrest through the land. We had soldiers in every town trying to regulate things. Two problems came from this: The first was that our regiments were short on men. The second was that the people did not like the military enforcing the law in their towns. They felt that they had traded a corrupt empire for a dictatorship. So, the Order of Marshalls was established. The idea was to elect people within the each town to help enforce the law. These men would be deputies, who were led by a Sheriff. If a problem arose that required help from the government or more men from other towns, the Marshalls would be sent in. The Marshalls were also elected into office. In this way, the people felt more secure about who was protecting them. Our job was to investigate crimes, capture criminals and bring them to trial. Ulfric actually asked about this before I left. He knows that the town guard is simply soldiers that stay within a town. When the North is united, the Marshalls will be set up throughout, that way our soldiers can go where they are needed and we will not have to worry about the towns being taken over. What happened in Markarth during the Great War is an example.”

    “I see. I was too young to help Ulfric during that, but I remember the stories my father told me. I admit that not having to deal with townsfolk would be nice. Their small problems can often interfere with our military concerns.” Both men finished their smoke and exited Candlehearth. “When are you leaving for Riften?”

    “I’m going to take a carriage now. I should be there by morning.”

    “Well good luck. I’m leaving in the morning. I will see you in a few days then.” The men turned to part ways, but Rez turned back and called to Ralof, “One more thing. After you are done in Winterhold, come see me at my house in Whiterun. I have a library there with a few tomes that may interest us.”

    “Will do.” The men finally parted ways. Rez headed for the city gate. The guards bowed their heads at him as he exited the city. The carriage was sitting there waiting to transport someone. The man was dressed in very light clothes even though the night began to turn cold. Rez knew that the man was Nord and that the cold would not bother him in the least. Even Rez had become accustomed to the colder climate of the region. “Hello there. I need a ride to Riften. Are you heading that way?”

    “I’m going wherever you need, assuming you have the coin.” Rez tossed a bag of coin to the man. When the man caught it and felt the weight, his face lit up with delight. “Climb aboard sir. We will be there by morning.”

    “That’s good to hear. I’m going to get some sleep while we ride. Wake me if there is any trouble.” The driver grabbed the reins and clicked with his mouth. The horse started to walk on command. The ride was bumpy at first. Rez was trying to find a comfortable way to sit in the rocking carriage, but after a few minutes, the ride started to smooth out and Rez fell fast asleep. A dreamless sleep, but sleep nonetheless.

    (Quick note: This is a bit long and overdue. I had some serious writer's block and now it's just flooding out. Hope you all enjoy! Criticism is welcome.)

Comments

1 Comment
  • Hermaeus Mora
    Hermaeus Mora   ·  May 1, 2013
    great series keep it up +1