Rastislav
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Arc 8 Chapter XLIX: Blacklight
🕑 Added 2024-12-15 18:31:14 +0000 UTCThe first thing that clued me in we were near our destination was the distant smell of the sea cutting through the constant ashy taste of the air, an hour later it was joined by the sound of waves endlessly flowing across the rocky coast, and finally the long mountain road was replaced by a vast coastal plain.
"I had not expected to return home so soon." Almeril mutters softly "Or at all for that matter."
Davos, who was riding just next to him, snorts "You are a tough bastard, Faren. You would have survived just to spite them."
The Redoran elf lets out a chuckle "Your faith in me is inspiring."
My own attention was far more focused on the sight before me as they bantered, though I did add a quick "At least it is a place worth coming back to." Much to Almeril's pride.
I even noticed Savos looking downright wistful as he looked down but judging by the air surrounding him I decided not to interrupt him with questions for the moment.
The city of Blacklight dominated the landscape, its tall walls surprisingly pristine, covered from the ash storms as they were by the mountains to their south. The place was very large by Dunmer standards, the equivalent of solitude if one slashed the population to a third, and far more ornate in its construction, as the architects tasked with expanding it were usually the trusted centurial masters of their craft.
A massive harbor covered the entirety of the city's north, with dozens of ships of both Dunmeri and Imperial design docking within at this very moment. I could practically hear the rowdy atmosphere from all the way here, literal kilometers away from the city.
The rest of the current capital of Morrowind was neatly organized into districts, none of them looking particularly poor while the area around the palace looked rather opulent, though in that rugged practical sense I've come to expect from the Redoran.
And speaking of my hosts to be, while at first the ones traveling with me, including the Archmaster and a good chunk of the councilors that followed him south, kept their distance, they soon found themselves warming up to me as we spent our nights around campfires, talking of deeds performed and victories won.
Once the challenges and spars started coming up, their cautious respect of my power swiftly turned into genuine respect for my prowess, even if I still mostly relied on my superior physique to defeat the true masters of melee.
I never did face Sarano though, two Great House leaders fighting in any way was too much of a shitshow in the making for either of us to indulge in. We did partake in some rounds of that strategy game Minthara got me, and as one might expect he was far better than I at strategy.
Not that I couldn't have won with magic but that would have just been pathetic.
Such were my thoughts as we neared the city, and the hour or so of marching that still remained passed in a blur, as it was decided we would not ride ahead of the army following us so that the people could be given a small parade for the victory.
Which of course included a chosen group of Kragenmoor militia, their arms and armor polished to shining the night before, and of course a troop of five hundred of my own Sworn Mer, whose armor needed no such care.
The gates opened before us and Sarano and myself rode into the city side by side, the other nobles following closely behind while the soldiery marched in practiced lockstep just behind them, and as news had already been sent ahead the crowds knew to cheer their hearts out in greeting.
I could still feel a few apprehensive and even hateful glances directed my way but frankly they were so irrelevant it was more amusing than anything.
A private reception was, of course, organized within the great palace itself, where Sarano made a short speech, honoring every leader, minor or otherwise, involved within the operation and thanking them in the name of all of Resdayn.
The usual platitudes, in short.
And while the food was most interesting indeed, my attention was quickly grabbed by other guests who had arrived long before us.
Namely the leaders of two other Great Houses.
"Dagoth." A rather old yet vigorous Dunmer greets me bluntly.
I raise an eyebrow at the curt tone "Demnevanni."
He just stares at me for a good ten seconds before realizing I wasn't about to answer his unasked question "How did you do it?"
Ah, so that is what this is about "Do what, my good man?"
Rather quickly, though not quickly enough for me to not notice, he grabs me by the shoulders "The damnable automata you bastard!" He tries to shake me while hissing manically and fails miserably "I've been trying to make my own for centuries and here you come shitting them out by the thousands!"
Honestly I could understand the frustration, the man had dedicated uncountable years, still incomprehensible to me even as I became something more, to a task only to see another overtake him with barely any effort.
Naturally, I chose to make it worse "Skill issue."
The poor fucker looked like I just stabbed him in the heart as he just slumped his shoulders, his apprentice looking at him worriedly while directing terrified glances my way every few seconds.
"Right." Baladas Demnevanni straightens himself in an instant "I guess I will just have to make you tell me."
A loud facepalm draws our eyes to the short figure of Vels Karvanni "By the gods, Baladas, calm yourself."
"Calm myself?!" The Archmagister rounds on his nominal subordinate.
"Yes." The far too toothy elf grins "You are being an embarrassment."
Subtly signaling to Sarano that no fight was about to break out I rejoin the conversation "I never said the cooperation we agreed to was void." The old elf's eyes brighten "Though the value of the knowledge will obviously need to be met by actions of your own."
The Archmagister blinks before giving me a look of pure fucking disappointment "You want to waste it on house business? And to think I was actually starting to respect you."
"Well that is a shame." I sigh dramatically "Say, Karvanni, would you be interested in-"
"As I was saying!" Demnevanni interrupts, his entire demeanor shifting once again "I would be delighted to discuss cooperation between our two houses."
"Excellent." I grin "No need to brain him anymore, Junior."
"A pity." My greatest tonal creation rumbles from behind the old elf, somehow going unnoticed until now.
Demnevanni rounds on him, his eyes suddenly laser focused as he stared up straight into Akulakhan's eyes "You..." He somehow manages to loom even with his completely average stature "You are no living being."
With each moment, realization began dawning within the Archmagister's gaze, and he took short but certain steps around Junior, examining him and muttering to himself in an increasingly manic manner.
"My master." Akulakhan speaks up after a while "Is the meatbag attempting some kind of mating ritual?"
Baladas ignores him utterly, somehow managing to make a literal machine increasingly uncomfortable with each passing moment.
I just snort and shake my head, wordlessly telling Karvanni to make sure his liege didn't do anything too idiotic, much to the toothy elf's chagrin.
"A curious thing, no?" An old female voice draws my attention, the seemingly unassuming noblewoman having almost managed to sneak up on me without notice.
"Lord Demnevanni's mechanophilia, or my creation?" I ask, bemused.
The old woman sniffs with amusement "Not quite, though now that you mention it that would explain why the Archmagister remains childless." She pretends to shiver "A rather unfortunate train of thought, that."
"One that I shall promptly erase from my mind." I nod decisively.
"Probably wise." She chuckles "Though again, not exactly what I was getting at."
I give her a curious look "And what did you mean, oh mysterious lady?"
"Cheeky." She 'chastises' "What I meant, oh youthful lordling, is that somehow, the moment you step into Morrowind we find ourselves arranging the fastest conclave since the invasion. A complete unknown, barging into our lands and demanding we hear his words." She scoffs "And worst of all the fact we are all forced to listen."
"You do not sound all that offended by the notion" I point out, a cup of Hassildor's wine appearing within my hands as I offered one to her.
She accepts it with the slightest upturn of her lip "And why should I?" She takes a long sip, something rather telling of her care for noble posturing "A mere two hundred years ago, my house was just a minor retainer to the Hlaalu, and now look at us." Sindrel Sadras states openly "That another one of us with the power and will to shake up this fossil of a nation came up is honestly a good thing in my books."
"Rather enterprising of you, Lady Sadras." I incline my head as a sign of respect "Some may judge you for such swift acceptance however."
"Oh please" She rolls her eyes, pure disdain in her voice "If you were anything like those fools, you wouldn't even bother speaking with me."
Not incorrect, since my own family name was among the oldest still living that have not been outright replaced by their branch houses. I was quite literally the old blood of the old blood in this place, even if the fact was but a technicality.
"As amusing as this dance is" I turn to her fully "To what do I owe your attention?"
"Can't an old woman see what the young'uns are up to now and then?" She smirks but goes on "You aren't a fool, child. I came here to see who you were and how you thought, never hurts to agree to act before things get... messy."
"Expecting the conclave to turn into a mess, are you?" I quirk an eyebrow.
She gives me the patented old woman 'who are you trying to bullshit?' and says "I do hear that dear old Neramir will be running a bit late, what with his pleasure barge barely floating under his weight."
"Interesting" I hum, not a terrible guess, I will give her that much "The troops needed a bit of time to rest anyway."
"I am certain that is true." She hums along "Now that the boring politics are out of the way" She pauses "How about you and I have a long and productive conversation about that Skyrim trade, eh? My pile of gold has been growing shallow recently and that is just poor for an old woman's sleep."
And that is how I ended up spending six hours talking to a money hungry hag, setting in motion events that would turn the Sea of Ghosts into one of the most lucrative routes in Tamriel.
With enough time, of course.
-----
The following days passed me by in a relative blur, most of which I spent exploring the city and discussing things with my peers. The famous hedge mazes dotting the city were quite well ordered and maintained as well, which made for a rather interesting excursion, even if it was utterly ruined by my unnaturally honed sense of space.
Another event of note was Savos dragging me off to the docks one day and showing off a small manor. The building was rather humble, and barely worthy of being called more than a mere house but I soon found out why it was still held under the property of the house of Aren.
It was Savos' old place, one he had been avoiding for the past two centuries, and one he had finally found the courage to face. We spent the entire night there, in the manor's basement, as my grandfather came face to face with his long dead wife and apologized for all his self perceived failings, only to be forgiven instantly, the elven woman far more interested in meeting her grandson instead, a fact I would mock the poor old man with till the end of his days.
By the end of the visit, Savos Aren stepped out of his old home with a surety in his steps I could barely recognize, the fading embers within his eyes set alight once more.
It was nice.
-
A full week after we had arrived, the next house leader showed up in a grand war galley bearing the chain of the Dres, the second youngest of all of us she chose to wait for the actual conclave before doing any politicking, no doubt seeking an opportunity to take advantage off.
Sadly for her idea of using her sudden arrival to her advantage, we were forced to wait for three full days longer before the fat piece of lard that was Indoril Neramir chose to finally waddle his way into Blacklight.
Seeing the utter disgust on Alandro's face as he observed his liege lord was quite telling of how far Nerevar's original house had fallen.
The Indoril requested an additional day of rest that Sarano was obligated to host him for and the moment the sun rose the next morning, all six of us made our way to the Rootspire in the center of the city.
The time of the conclave had come.
