Chapter 224
2nd Era 582
Gautier Senior looked a lot like his son, though of course older. His hair was of the same thick type, though not as long as Darien's and it was beginning to get touched by silver. He also had a lined face; the kind of lines borne from hard fighting and close combat over years of service. He also carried himself as a seasoned warrior. The first thing out of my mouth when Darien led me there (it was a waiting or drawing room or parlor... I never knew how interchangeable or not the terms were) was how sorry I was to keep him waiting.
He shook his head. "No apologies needed. I was concerned about you, actually. I didn't know there would be any visitors today."
"I was..." ...Not going to say "I was having a hard time acclimating to that your son kept all this from me and it resulted in me fainting". So I decided to have a nice little white lie: "I was... hungry. I haven't eaten in a while." Verandis (who was in the room with us) could back this one up: he'd known when we had been in Arkasis's lab together that my legs had been feeling weak, when I had not eaten then. I'd never actually fainted from hunger, but Mr. Gautier here didn't know that.
His gaze shifted to his son. I could clearly read that he was beginning to be upset with him, and I wondered if this was a regular occurrence? Before he could say anything (either of them), I quickly said, "I fainted just inside the door. There was nothing he could do about it." Here I was, lying (sort of) to protect someone from a parent. I almost felt like a teenager, making excuses for another teen when something happened and we were being interrogated about it. The "it's all my fault, blame me" kind of way to avoid embarrassing parental situations. Technically, it was both our faults: his because he waited so damn long to tell me something important, and mine because of that I got really upset about it and continued to hold on to that grief. Hopefully I could just... let it fully go sometime. It was slowly going on its own, but not quick enough. I could feel Darien nodding next to me.
His brows rose and then he went to another hanging cord and before he pulled it, he turned and asked me if I would like something to eat. That was kind of him.
"On two conditions." I replied, and his brows rose again, like he hadn't been expecting stipulations. Who would have?
"Very well," he answered, after a beat. "What are these conditions?" He sort of looked like he was bracing himself, in case they were big and/or obnoxious. If he was doing this, it made me wonder if this was a unique situation, or that Darien had brought bratty women here in the past. Something to corner him about later.
I held up one finger. "One, that the meal is vegetarian; I don't eat meat or eggs of any sort--" Gautier Senior's expression was pure surprise, here "--and Two--" I held up the second finger "--is that you join us for that meal. None of us three have eaten yet and it would be nice if I could get to know you a little better." These were realy simple conditions. Nobody in their right mind would deny them.
He visibly relaxed. "I accept your conditions. I admit I was expecting them to be bigger than they had been." He pulled the cord and I knew (according to Darien's description of the function of it) that it rang a bell somewhere. He turned back to me and asked my name. "We have not been properly introduced."
I considered giving him the name I gave a lot of people here (Leea, which was a sort of nickname I'd given myself long ago), but then discarded that idea, and gave him my true name, which few people back here in the Second Era knew at all: "My name is Kishori." I replied. I gestured with an extended arm to Verandis, who stood nearby, near a suit of steel armor on a mannequin. "I assume you know by now that he is Count Verandis Ravenwatch? Of Rivenspire."
"Yes, he introduced himself to me some time previously." A female voice came from behind us (me and Darien, to be specific) at this moment, and I recognized Delphina's voice. "Yes, my lord?" Then she seemed to see me. "Oh, my dear, how are you feeling?"
I turned around. "I'm fine, thanks."
She smiled. She looked (and sounded) like a nice lady. "I was worried about you when you suddenly fainted in the foyer."
Senior Gautier told the little older lady, "Delphina, we would like a meal, if you would please. Something without meat." He then told her to make sure "Harlaug" got it right. She bowed and left. I was surprised to not see any surprise on the little lady's face. Usually people looked at you with pure surprise on their faces (like Mr. Gautier did) or they had expressions on their faces like you suddenly morphed into a three-headed alien with purple skin with lime green spots: shock and not knowing what to do about it. I was used to that reaction, back in my old world, even though vegetarianism was not any new diet by any stretch of even a dullard's imagination who'd spent his entire life living under a rock. Here, people had the same general "my God you're a vegetarian?" shock reactions as they did, back in my old home. Some things never changed, despite the changing of where I lived. Gautier Senior was saying, "...if you would join me in the dinning hall, we can get more acquainted while we wait for the meal to arrive."
I nodded and said, "Thank you."
* * *
We had battled our way down more hallways with even stiffer resistance than we'd encountered in all the hallways beforehand. We ended up in a formation of sorts: Mathiswen at the very front with Tal and Calath beside him like an arrow formation, and me and Arianwe in the back, behind Tal and Calathetial, raining down ranged support. The platinum-haired Altmer was like the keel of a boat: cutting the "waters" (the bandits) of the "boat" (us) so we could take on everything easier. He was pretty much a force unto himself. Not to say the other men here weren't excellent fighters (they were), but he was amazing with that gigantic hammer. Harder and harder resistance only meant to me that we were finally getting to the end of this place, and perhaps the leader that Matt had heard about but had not seen up to now.
We burst into a rather large room (for a cave system) to find one, lone male. He was Altmer, of course, but I could smell... Wet dog. He had a wand of the blackest ebony with the head of a screaming gargoyle in one gauntleted fist (his armor reminded me highly of the armor Sauron had worn in the first Lord of the Rings movie) and the other had a gleaming, red-and-black sword with jagged cutting edges. "I see you have cut down my subordinates." he said simply, as we carefully fanned out in another formation, like the tail fin of a fish: once again the melee fighters in the front (with Matt front and center) and the ranged fighters (me and Arianwe) in the back. She had an arrow nocked on her bow, but the string was not pulled. Yet. Tal had his swords out and partly raised, at the ready, as did Calath and Mathiswen. I tried to prepare myself for anything. Someone with both a wand and a sword generally meant they were a spellsword: someone who fought with both weapons and magic at the same time, like Calath and Ulyn. The man's eyes glowed with a peculiar light as he took us in, standing there, waiting for him to do something... or I had a very good idea Matt would take charge if this pause went on for too long. The light from the candles and sconces reflected off of them... kind of like animal eyes, now that I thought of it. "They weren't the most loyal, after all. You have my thanks, for taking them to the next steps without me having to do all of the work."
"We're here to stop you with whatever you think you're gonna do with the robbery you're planning," I replied. I hoped I made a strong enough statement. I wasn't afraid, mind you, but there was something unnatural about his gaze and the smell that accosted me from across this arena-like room. It made goosebumps roll in waves across my skin.
His eyes fell on me, past the men. "So you would think so. I have seen far more moons than your existence in this world." He had to have been referring to him thinking I was a native to this world and my age, not how long it had been since I was dropped here... right? "I have beaten many who thought to stop me, but all fell before me. You and your Hulkynd friends will serve me, in time. Willingly or not, all that matters is the end result."
"Which is?" Matt asked, holding his massive hammer ready for an uppercut.
"Perpetual servitude, either living or dead. Thralls to spread my gift to the masses, to create an army of those under my command."
"What sort of gift? Certainly not, like, anything they apparently wanted in the first place." Arianwe said, readjusting the grip on her bow.
"The gift of lycanthropy, my dear. I may smell like an ordinary werewolf to you, but I am one of the first. The first in the mortal world to be gifted with lycanthropy. There were others like me, once, but I am the last." Those unnaturally-lit eyes flashed as he shifted his gaze to all of us. "I am a Werewolf Lord. Werewolves who have much power within the realms of Hircine's chosen. Our powers over our lycanthropy were far more than regular lycanthropes who willingly or unwillingly partook of this gift."
"I assume you're gonna take this 'army' of yours and lay waste to first Summerset and then the rest of the world? Like most people with plans of domination?" I asked, sarcastically.
"Of course." He smiled. It was not a nice or even normal smile; there was something wolfish about it, like "the hungry predator sees easy prey and he can almost taste its flesh already" kind of wolfish smile. "Other Werewolf Lords attempted it, but I alone shall succeed, for I am the last of my kind and with the power of my undead minions and the artifacts that will be stolen from the museum, I will be unstoppable." I heard ominous noises from behind us as he spoke, sniffing audibly. "I can sense something different about you, child." he continued speaking, directing at me. "Something powerful. Something not seen in this world for a very long time. If you choose not to serve me willingly, you shall make the most powerful thrall." He had a tone of "this is so delicious", which is usually reserved for, say, chocolate.
"He's raised all the bandits behind us!" Arianwe hissed. She turned around and leveled her drawn bow to the now filled doorway. It was full of zombies; even ones that were missing limbs. If they couldn't stand, they dragged themselves along like things straight out of a horror flick. I turned back to the Altmer Werewolf Lord and stated plainly: "Sorry, I got no plans on being your toady or thrall. I will kill you, though, to remove the danger you are to this world. I like it quite well, and don't want it to end." Despite being dropped unceremoniously here some months ago with nothing but my wits and the PJs on my back... I liked this place. There was more freedom here than my old world. Sure, there were laws, but how many places back there could you be a mercenary for a living? Actually going and clearing out ruins of dangerous creatures and beings for money? Back home, you called the cops, and they got to see all the action. Here, you could be in that action, and not get in trouble for it. There was freedom that you had here that could not be found there, and I loved it.
"So be it." he replied with finality, raising his glowing wand to the ceiling, unleashing his spell.
* * *
It was a very grand dining hall. Even more grand than where Verandis's dining hall was, though of course there wasn't three large stone sarcophagi in the peripheral, like it was in Verandis's castle. It also had more seating at the (what seemed rosewood or something similar... a luxury wood, that was certain) table; enough seats where speaking with the head of the table - if you weren't seated close to it - meant either asking the people trailing up to it to "chain whisper" what you wanted to say to the head of the table all the way up there, or throw manners to the wind and shout to be heard. There was gilding and carvings and marble statues everywhere. It stirred my annoyance (the "he kept this from me" irritation), which I clamped down hard on. Darien's family obviously had lots of money; the Imperial Palace was (very obviously) very rich in decoration itself, but it was the seat of power for thousands of years of Emperors... whether they deserved that title or not. At any rate, it definitely had decoration that out-rivalled this, but this was still very richly decorated. Far more than the Montclairs', even though they also had been a noble family. I did a quick count and there were twenty two (!!!) chairs at the dining table, so I remarked, "You got a big dining table. How often is it filled?"
Edward (as he said his name was, on the way to this room) pulled out my chair for me... near the head of the table, and he replied as I seated myself with a thank you, "Not often. The current generation of our family is smaller than previous ones. On the rare occasions that all of us are here within the manor house, it is only half filled." So... that meant there were eight or nine other Gautiers around, excluding Darien and his dad. So... did that mean Darien had brothers and sisters he didn't tell me about?
Seeing the look on my face (and no doubt reading my thoughts), Darien stated, "I don't have any brothers or sisters. They're all aunts and uncles and cousins and nephews. That sort of thing." Good chance he wasn't lying; his dad was right here and would surely correct any falsities had Darien made any up on the spot.
I nodded as Verandis sat in the seat opposite me, Edward sat at the head seat (where I assumed he sat normally) and Darien (of course) sat right next to me. "So when are those rare occasions that everyone's together? What do they do out in the world?"
"There are several holidays where they visit the manor. Are you familiar with Breton holidays?" He leaned on the table before him with tented fingers.
"No. Last time I was here was quite a few months ago, and even then that was my first time and I didn't get around much."
Servants began coming in and setting out plates before us, with a dizzying array of spoons and forks. I knew I'd mess up and use the desert fork for something it was not "intended" for. I never bothered with too much cutlery back home in the Palace (or even beforehand, in Breezehome) and it was a fork, spoon, and knife. That was it. There was no real need for so many different versions of forks and spoons, in my belief. "Where did you come from, if I might ask?"
"Are you asking where I hail from, or where I was before I came here the first time?" There was three glasses, all wine-versions, now being set up. I knew I was slouching in my chair and that no doubt looked bad. At least there was just one napkin... "Where you hail from. You do not look Breton to me, if you'll excuse my observation."
Probably because I wasn't one. I wasn't from here, but I was not going to mention that. I'd been mistaken for a Nord before, so that was what I went with. After all, saying "I don't come from this universe and by the way I'm from a thousand years in the future, too, and not to mention I'm Anu's Champion and a few other equally-important titles strung along after that" would have a hard time sinking into anyone's head. "I come from Skyrim."
"Ah, I thought you seemed Nordic to me." At least I'd pulled that one off! "Is that where you met my son?"
"No. I met him in Summerset."
He looked infinitely surprised. He glanced down past me to Darien, and he was nodding. "Yes, she's telling the truth, father. We went up against a Daedric Prince and she saved me and then killed the Prince. It was certainly more than I had been planning on doing!"
Great. He'd mentioned that. I was hoping he wouldn't have. Now I'd have to explain. Edward was looking at me expectantly. So I said, "Yes, I met him there in front of the Crystal Tower. Nocturnal was trying to use it to remake reality and make herself an infinitely powerful being, but we stopped her. She's... dead. Has been for months."
He looked utterly blown away. As far as anyone knew, Daedric Princes pretty much were immortal, and pretty much impossible to kill. Well... none of them had contact with the source of Incorruptible Light Himself, which through His Divine energy I just chanelled and killed her that way. I was less the hero and more the prism crystal that directed light somewhere else. "How were you able to accomplish such a feat? Daedric Princes can't be killed."
"They can be, if you have the right tools for the job," Darien added (finally adding some more to the conversation; he'd been letting me lead it for too long). "We had the right tools for that job, but I didn't until she came along." I shot him a barely-disguised "no flirtation" glance and he winked at me. I rolled my eyes. "We've been together ever since."
"It's not the way it sounds," I said, refraining from kicking him under the table for making it sound as if we were "together" in that other way. "He protects me, but I'm married... and not to him."
I could tell Gautier Senior knew I was leaving a lot out, but he said then: "Where is your husband, then?"
"He's... away." I would not say he was in the future, protecting a future Dragonborn Emperor. Instead, I said, "He's protecting an important noble." I "tested the waters" and asked carefully, "Have you heard anything about Akaviri coming to Tamriel again recently?" That was about as vague as I could make it and still expect an answer in return.
His expression told me plainly that he wondered why the hell I was asking such a question, but he said (as servants began to come in with platters and tureens of food), "I have. And here they had apparently invaded 12 years ago. For whatever reason, this time they did not wage war against us." He tented his fingers again. "I sense a reason as to that question."
"Because..." I darted a glance to my silver plate. "Because they came for me." He leaned back in his chair in surprise... and more than a little concern. I continued, with the feeling of "might as well before Darien does it indelicately and then I'll have to explain anyway". Beat him to the punch, as it were. "I called them here, and they came all the way from Akavir to find me."
"Why?" I could see the commander in him come out; here was someone who had summoned Akaviri who over a decade previously had ravaged both Morrowind and eastern Skyrim. In his mind, someone like that could not possibly have good intentions at heart, right? Wrong.
I spoke a few words from the greeting the Greybeards had told me. It shook the manor house. Edward was beginning to get up but Verandis was motioning him to stay, murmuring "Everything is fine, my lord." Darien was apparently doing the same thing, because he sank back down, though very cautiously. Servants streamed in, no doubt alarmed by the shaking of the house. I continued to gaze at Gautier Senior, who was staring at me with both awe and shock. "I am the Dragon of the North, which those words said," I explained, keeping my expression as friendly as I could make it. He was tense and I didn't want to alarm him any more than I already had. Funny that Khamira accepted so easily what and who I was, but this guy here was having difficulty with it. "The Akaviri - the Tsaesci and the Kamal, to be precise - have a very long history of revering the Dragonborn. I called all who would support me here to help me in my mission." I assumed he would be smart enough to take from that sentence that I was Dragonborn, without further explanation.
Now he looked blown away. "Dragonborn?" Any moron would know Dragonborns were rulers of Tamriel - through various incarnations of the Empire - and Edward here did not strike me as a moron. "Yes..." he now seemed to be looking back, because I knew rumors were swirling about about me. The Morag Tong knew about me, and Khamira did, so it stood to reason that others would now know a Dragonborn was wandering the world. "I remember hearing rumors of a Dragonborn." Then: "Are you here to help us?"
It was my turn for confusion. "Help you with what?"
"With High King Emeric's bid for the Ruby Throne." he explained, now settling back into his seat. Apparently I was no longer a "threat", or something to be concerned about. Servants still lingered around, though. "He wants to reunite the Empire of men under one banner."
Uhh... no. I would not help with that. I certainly would not help with someone else's ambitions to sit on the throne that (currently, in the Fifth Era) belonged to me, and in this time (but three hundred years in the future), would belong to Tiber Septim. So I carefully said (after a darted glance to Verandis opposite me, who nodded almost imperceptibly), "I don't support anyone. I don't want it for myself, either, before you go thinking that," I added, seeing Senior Gautier's expression shift. "I'm just... looking for help."
He looked confused, as to why me (with thousands of Akaviri soldiers at my call... only he didn't know they were a thousand years in the future at the moment) would need any help. And with what? "Why would you need help?"
"Because of the war that's coming. Have you heard of the Planemeld?" Darien had been mixed up in that, before apparently Molag Bal canceled his plans because his dad no doubt told him to... Because in all my time here, there was never any of the effects of the "Planemeld" that I ever saw but was told about (via various people I'd spoken to, including Darien himself), so it stood to reason Padomay told Molag Bal to not continue with his Planemeld. But why didn't he tell Nocturnal to quit her meddling of the Crystal Tower? Or did he and she continued anyway? Eh, I'd never know.
"Most people have heard of the Planemeld," he responded, after motioning for the servants to begin to plate up the food. "But most have also found that somehow it seems to have stopped." He gazed at me hopefully. I somehow knew what was coming next. "Did you stop it? Or have anything to do with that?"
"Y-y-es, and no," I sort of stuttered through it. "Indirectly and originally unknown to myself. But what's coming is far worse than what the Planemeld was going to be."
"How could something else be worse than what Oblivion had planned for Tamriel? I don't understand."
I stared at the stack (of four) pancakes that were on my plate. Little pitchers of cream and melted butter and sugar syrup were arranged by each chair setting. "The Planemeld was a desire of Molag Bal; who is considered one of the worst of the Daedric Princes." I glanced up at Edward, who looked like I was telling him extremely bad news, when he had just been feeling good news. I did not glance at Darien or Verandis. "What is lesser known is their father, pure Darkness himself. He is worse than anything Oblivion can muster, because he is the origin of it all. Oblivion is simply the Darkness surrounding the utter evil of the being in its center, just like Aetherius is the energy surrounding the being of pure Light." I pressed my lips together. "He is coming for Creation, so he can mold it to how he desires it to be. I need to muster everything I can so we can fight back against him; I need that help. Otherwise, what will happen would make the Planemeld seem like nothing."
