Rastislav
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Arc 8 Chapter CXVIII: Winddown
🕑 Added 2025-04-23 23:19:50 +0000 UTC(General POV)
Captain Fridvar of the Jagged Crown felt his fingers nervously tap the bulwark of his ship as the small army disembarked onto the docks of Winterhold. Even days after he was both repeatedly healed and had all the time to rest, his heart would begin beating harshly at the slightest rise in sound.
He was making good effort in hiding it from his crew, but he knew that before long something would break.
Unfortunately, for all the authority of being the Captain of the High King's personal flagship brought, there still remained people whose scrutiny he could not avoid.
"Captain" The Hortator of Morrowind greeted him quietly.
"Your Grace" Fridvar bobbed his head "What brings you here?"
Those far too understanding eyes pierced into him as they always did "At first" The elf turned away "I wanted to thank you for your services, but it looks to me I might need to thank you for the sacrifice as well."
Noticing his right hand shaking, Fridvar harshly stamped it down with his left and grit his teeth "Comes with the job" He affirmed more to himself "No need to fret when you've faced far worse."
"Ah" Reyvin snapped his fingers "And the problem magically goes away!"
The Nord felt his face heat up slightly against the sea winds, nearly sputtering before he forced himself to simply glare at the city docks.
"I am not trying to ridicule you, Captain." The elf shook his head and leaned on the bulwark as well "My own first experience with shouts was not quite as terrible but getting slammed into a wall by a Draugr should still count, no?"
Seeing him barely so much as twitch at the mention, Fridvar forced his own reaction down lest he shame himself "What are you getting at?"
The elf didn't seem to care about his harsh tone and merely shrugged "I'd have probably gotten traumatized myself if not for my rapidly growing power" Reyvin rose his hand to forestall him "And so for your service I'd like to offer you a small boon."
All Fridvar could do was stare dumbly as he was handed a small roll of parchment holding a singular rune he recognized as belonging to the dragon tongue, and a long line of text below it "I..." He went to refuse but found his words leaving him.
"Sometimes the best way to deal with terror is to surpass it" Reyvin clapped him on the shoulder "Besides, Torygg could always use more power to his loyalists."
Fridvar gulped as he began skimming the scroll and by the time he turned to thank the elf, he had already disembarked and joined his entourage.
(Reyvin's POV)
The ascent to Winterhold proper had already been cleared of snow before our arrival, the many sailors and dockworkers stopping their work as we passed them by, soon joined by the citizens themselves who had somehow already managed to scrounge up a minor festival.
Damn rumor mill surpassed even the gods, and it was only going to get stronger!
As I watched Minthara beaming at the greeting and hesitantly accepting the gifts offered, my mind went back to the conversation with Fridvar.
The good Captain was someone I had grown to respect over the recent weeks, his reaction to the instant deaths of a massive chunk of his crew and obvious PTSD notwithstanding.
The man was skilled, hard working, a good leader, and most importantly, loyal to Torygg and through him to the Empire. And losing him to something like this would have been a massive waste, doubly so for what was coming.
Oh I was certainly aware of the hypocrisy of letting his crew suffer without a care but I could not save everyone nor would I ever wish to. Fridvar would either fall into the pit of despair or come out of the experience far stronger, and I would profit from it.
Was it incredibly foolish to begin silently spreading knowledge of the voice? Quite possibly.
Dare I say it was downright idiotic on some accounts.
But innovation did not come from hoarding information, and even if it happened decades later, a certain number of people would inevitably come up with new and interesting ways of using the voice, and I would once more profit from it.
What of the Greybeards you ask?
Nords may respect tradition but even that can only stretch so far, and after the death of Alduin, everyone and their mother dreamt of using the voice in their quiet moments, and many would fall to the temptation, no matter the peer pressure they would be under.
But sadly those schemes would have to wait their decades out, as I had more important things to do. Like greeting Assur and going through all the motions of being the conquering hero...
At least I didn't have to deal with the near-worship Minthara was receiving.
Not in this place at the very least.
-----
"Unbelievable" I hear Minthara's amused mutter as she looks down through one of the windows of the Sea Ghost's Respite bathhouse.
"What is it?" I open one of my eyes, a bit miffed at having my water nap interrupted "No riots I hope."
"If you count all the taverns in the city running out of mead a riot" She shrugs and plops down into the heated water.
"Truly" I drawl "A dreadful fate for any Nord."
"Good thing they were already expecting us then" She smirks before shaking her head "But no, that is not what I was talking about" She points her thumb at the window "We've barely been here for a few hours and a trade ship has already departed for Solstheim after loading up on food and basic supplies."
Huh "You have to respect the decisiveness" I chuckle "Not one bit of hesitation to grab the new opportunity." A quick scry confirmed it was a captain I had worked with before. Probably had the good sense to trust my reputation to bring him wealth as it did once before.
"Best part is they will definitely profit massively" She points out as she allows herself to sink to her chin "Morvayn was already complaining about raw resources before we left."
"I was the one who had to listen to all that" I pretend shudder "All you did was happily count your newfound treasure over and over like an overenthusiastic magpie."
"You are just jealous" She sniffs at me.
My ensuing look is as dry as the desert "My vaults are larger than this building."
She doesn't miss one beat "Our vaults, dear."
Naturally, not being petty in the least, I send a current of electricity though the water, laughing my ass off at her surprised squeak even as I was tackled below the surface.
---
With an offended pout, Minthara once more tries taming the still electrified bits of her hair, all of it useless as the stubborn tangle simply jumps up a second later, making her do it all over again, vibrating in her seat as she held herself back from smacking me in full view of the room.
Around us, the Respite was loud with noise and music, the band I had hired so many years ago making a respectable effort of it even if Marco would no doubt have managed better (not that the little shit would ever hear me say that aloud)
I could see the festive atmosphere practically draining the tension of some of our followers, and even Skirnir, who had gone through a resurrection of mine only recently, looked like he was comfortable within his own skin again, now that he was surrounded by his people in their natural state.
No matter how good I got at it, the soul of a non-mystic was not meant to be leaving their body, despite how fun the idea was on paper.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed the newest batch of college students all joined with their older colleagues, the striking figure of an inebriated Ulf the Terrible looming over them as my... Dark Apprentice spoke to them in dramatic hushed tones about the upcoming conquest of Tamriel.
That some of the bright eyed youths took him seriously nearly made me slam my head into the table, but I persevered.
This time.
My own people were, as was their want, far more contained in their relaxation, content to simply enjoy the moment of relative peace even if some of their banter inevitably ended up on house rivalry and the usual dickmeasuring.
'No, Sadras, just because one of you got eaten by a dragon doesn't mean your entire regiment gets to be called dragon slayers.' I hold myself back from actually berating them and let my gaze drift about as my meal arrives.
Hold on a second, why was Davos, the traitor, drinking filthy leaf juice?
This will not sta-
A shrouded figure sitting in front of me saved the traitor's soul, Minthara having decided to go and greet her old college colleagues a few moments earlier and thus leaving the two of us alone.
"Why if it isn't my favorite boner enthusiast." I greet the greater lich with a smirk.
"You are not nearly as bright as you think you are." Phineas makes sure his illusory expression remains blank but I see the skeletal scowl behind it.
I pretend to hide my smirk behind my mug of brandy, taking an elaborately long slurp of my favorite drink before ever so slowly lowering it and lighting up a Deathstick™ "So, how can I help the honorable Archmage of Winterhold?" I ask after an obnoxiously long puff.
He doesn't answer immediately, instead taking a cautious look over the gathered crowd before turning back to me with a newfound fire burning in the pits of his eyes "We are finishing it tonight" He declares, unable to hide his excitement behind even his undeath.
"Finally managed to work it out, eh?" I quirk an eyebrow before smirking smugly at him "Or did someone else do it for you?"
If he had the organs for it, he'd be rolling his eyes "Oh come off it you arrogant bastard, the prototype is almost done and everyone is waiting for you."
"You didn't want to start without me?" I ask 'breathlessly' while batting my eyelashes "How delightfully generous of you~"
He actually shudders at this "Tolfdir kept yammering on about you being part of the project from the start" He looks away and scoffs "Not like I wanted to listen to your tripe any more than I have to already."
"Awww, so you do care!" I clap my hands excitedly "Let's get going then! Wouldn't want you to miss out on the party."
He nods and gets up, waving for me to follow "A question." He speaks up after I signal to the others that I'd be leaving for a while.
"Ask away, oh skeletal sovereign." I offer a mocking bow as I toss away the ashes of my Deathstick™.
"Did you" He hesitates, looking around with a bit of paranoia "Did you get anything useful before the... well."
"Before I murdered our dear friend, Hermaeus Mora?" I ask him loudly, causing him to jump and yelp as he rounded on me.
He visibly held himself back and cast a detection spell, actually deflating as he realized we were under an anti-attention illusion "You are bloody insane."
"And you bloody love me for it" I snap my fingers and wink "But to answer your question I did indeed manage to get some interesting reading material before it all evaporated."
Skeletor Sr. perks up and begins greedily rubbing his hands.
Oh sure I may have been fighting for my very soul but that didn't mean I was going to miss out on all the loot! Just because mollusk supreme was pissed didn't mean everything in his domain simply disintegrated, and the thousands of books currently languishing in my inventory should be grateful to be liberated from such an irresponsible owner!
Maybe I was the magpie all along?
Nah, that is impossible! I didn't hoard after all.
...Do ignore the vault.
---
The chamber atop the Hall of Refinement was brimming with even more wards of all kinds than usual as we entered, the concentration of magic in the air so potent I felt the slightest resistance to my steps as we passed them.
Within awaited the usual suspects, everyone from my fellow archmagi, an excited (for an undead) Marwyn, and to my surprise Nerevar, Serana, and Valerica Volkihar of all people.
"Ah" I nod "So that is how you managed to get it done so quickly" I ignore Phineas' grumbles as I approach the aforementioned vampire matriarch "Lady Valerica" I grin "Always a displeasure."
"Dagoth" The disdainful chill of her tone had still not left her it would seem "You've certainly been busy."
"Always am, I am afraid" I shrug 'helplessly' "Though I will admit, I am surprised your left your island."
She doesn't react visibly "Favors and assurances were offered." Is her simple answer.
"Sure you didn't take control of her Phineas?" I jab my elbow at the scowling skeleton "Would probably make dealing with her easier."
He takes a step away from me and wisely nopes out of the conversation.
Serana sighs in exasperation.
And finally, this time Valerica does react, left eye twitching as she contained her irritation "I had hoped rule would make you more mature, but it would seem it merely emboldened you."
"And irritating you shall always be a pleasure" I grin, taking far too much enjoyment out of provoking her. She was a piece of shit, and even if we were allied I still did not like her one bit "But that is not why we are here, sadly."
She could wait.
"Finally" Phineas drawls and steps up to the tarp covered slab in the chamber's center.
Tolfdir drags in a large enchanted board, sprawling diagrams spread on its surface detailing enough about the human body to challenge a third millennium surgeon, with the inevitable effects of the existence of magic on top of it.
Shalazar summons an entire armoire's worth of potions and tinctures, some of them feeling like genuine war crimes to my senses even as the glorious Lizard Wizard practically juggled through them as he assembled everything we would need.
Even Nerevar looked unnerved by some of the shit the Argonian brought out, though he did still hesitantly nod after examining the contents.
Savos naturally fell into the overseeing role, no matter the actual titles he was still far too used to it and none of us wanted to bother.
Oddly enough I found myself standing opposite Valerica, the unamused vampiress tapping her far too sharp claws as I readied my own surgical tools.
I never paid it any actual heed but after having healed and disassembled so many people being elbow deep in guts didn't even faze me anymore, and the precise efficiency I had developed over the years made me far more qualified than any of the others in actually cutting and stitching the homunculus up.
Phineas hesitated only briefly before he removed everything from his skeleton and laid atop the other half of the slab, cracking open his skull to make things easier for us as he did.
The tarp was dragged off the prototype and thus our work began.
The body that greeted my eyes was a blocky abomination, a face that not even a grandmother would call handsome and musculature that belonged in a shitty low pixel game and not to an Archmage of Winterhold.
But it was a start.
"Begin incision" Savos cut through the silence and soon his voice was replaced with the squelch of flesh as my knives got to work, Valerica's oversight stopping me from making some very stupid mistakes as I instinctually tried following the usual nervous layout.
The primitive 'wires' spread through the homunculus were far more fragile than those of the weakest of Mer, their sole purpose being to confirm that they could work at all.
Throughout the whole operation, I made sure to pay attention to Tolfdir's diagram even as the old man narrated everything we were doing (I was already aware of most of it but it never hurt to have a reminder handy with something as delicate as this.)
The entire assemblage was rudimentary enough to be called a meat suit and not a body, all the different organ systems being mere proof-of-concepts instead of their actual final forms. Everything was made to act as simple as possible no matter how eager Phineas was to feel the world again.
It felt like I was in some kind of a caricature of an operating theatre, a small hand drill twisting in my hands as I literally poked holes into the Phineas' skull before dragging the overlarge nerves through them, connecting them to the primitive brain within, tasked merely with transferring sensation and not actually processing information.
It left me feeling all kinds of surreal.
But in the end, hours later, as Nerevar spilled the final drop of a flesh-binding tincture, and Valerica and myself hit the body with a potent mix of restoration and necromancy, one to bind the flesh and the other to animate it, we saw the blocky abomination twitch, and then levitate up into the air.
Phineas landed on the cold floor feet first, nearly stumbling before Nerevar stabilized him by grabbing onto his shoulder.
I held back the need to shout 'It is alive!' even if I'd still keep the thought a cherished memory.
"I..." Phineas rasped in complete monotone, utterly uncaring for his current nakedness "I can feel the air."
He took one step forward, and practically snatched the cup of water Tolfdir offered him.
As he took a greedy gulp of the liquid, something told me the fact we skipped the tear ducts in this one was not an accident.
"Well now" Tolfdir chuckled warmly "If there ever was a deed worthy of Winterhold, this is it."
"You forget the most important thing, colleague mine!" Shalazar's squeak broke us from our wonderment as we all turn to look at him "For us to call this a true success, we must offer the body the appropriate stress test!"
Phineas looked distinctly unwilling.
And before long we were all drinking from Tolfdir's personal stash.
Oh sure, the homunculus may have suffered an almost immediate heart, liver, and stomach failure cascading into a violent and painful death but hey, progress was progress!
Comments
Hakkira
Thank you kindly for the chapter 😁
Nazarickk
Thanks for the chapter
