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Arc 8 Chapter XXI: Minthara's Troubles And Vampiric Squabbles
🕑 Added 2024-10-30 22:41:44 +0000 UTC(Minthara's POV)
The spectators hold their breath as I stare down at the immaculately crafted board representing a section of terrain, my mind hard at work as I observed the many figurines positioned on it by my opponent.
"There is no shame in admitting defeat." Julius Gracchus says a bit smugly "It has been many years since I was defeated in a proper game of war."
Ignoring the smug twat I narrow my eyes as the beginnings of a plan start forming. Soon my hands begin moving the figurines, far faster than we were playing for the past few hours, the General of the Imperial Legion forced into following my pace lest he be seen as too slow in contrast.
My seemingly nonsensical moves baffle him for a while but after I have my light infantry ford the shallow river leading to his supplies his eyes widen and he realizes what has been happening. For almost a full hour I had been preparing his forces for a full surround, the wisdom I inherited from my slain kin easily allowing me to plan dozens of moves in advance.
General Gracchus is forced to watch turn by turn as my imaginary forces completely dismantle his own, taking minimal losses in return and completely ruining his admittedly good strategy for countering my Nordic army with his Legionaries.
A complete silence overtook the gathering of officers as the lot of them gawked at their leader's complete and utter defeat.
"I must admit." The General mutters, still a bit stunned "I did not even consider things would go this way." His dazed expression shifts into one of cheer in a near instant though as he looks up to me "Though this just serves to prove that the Emperor was right in granting your wish!" He chuckles loudly "The Empire shall indeed rise once again!"
The sudden shift in attitude seems to shake the rest of his people from their stupor as they all begin offering their congratulations, some going just a bit too far in the praise and turning to outright flattery.
I carefully made sure I did not glare some of them to death as their gazes wondered just a tiny bit too low. Honestly if the idiots kept going like this I will have to start promoting the women over the men when the time comes, at least they have some propri-
Aaaand one of them is staring at my ass... Great.
"Say, Julius." I turn to the General "Think you could send over a copy of this game?" Reyvin would definitely like it and I admit it is kind of addicting.
"Certainly." The man grins "I will have a personal edition carved out for you at the first opportunity!"
His voice lowers by a bit as he leans in "And speaking of opportunities, I have just received news of a tribe of minotaurs that has settled in the southern Colovian Highlands. My boys and girls would be delighted if we got the chance to... prevent any unfortunate happenings."
"The southern highlands?" I raise an eyebrow "The same highlands that just happen to be next to the Hammerfell border?"
"A simple coincidence, I assure you." He doesn't even pretend to be speaking the truth.
"And all of these... boys and girls" I enunciate slowly "Are volunteers, yes?"
"Indeed they are." He grins "Veterans mostly see, too agitated by their experiences to remain idle." He could have smacked me in the face with the insinuation and it would have been less subtle.
"So they want to go on one last hunt, eh?" I smirk lightly at the surprisingly devious man "And since most of them are no doubt from the west, disbanding them after the mission and paying their retirement with their equipment and a large train of supplies would just happen to be the most prudent choice, yes?"
"But of course." The General nods along as he leads me to his study, his officers pretending to be engaged in conversation with each other as they listened in "It wouldn't do for us to needlessly burden our comrades with the extra marching after all."
I close the door behind me and speak clearly "Alright Gracchus, cut the bullshit. What base are we hitting?"
The man's easy grin widens into a bloodthirsty one as he whips out a highly detailed map of all the ongoings in Hammerfell between the Redguards and the Thalmor. The position of Odahviing's own band of five dragons marked in the mountains as well.
No one said I couldn't do some scheming of my own on the side, right?
Besides, all I was doing was going on a simple. enthusiastic. walk.
(Reyvin's POV)
"Huh." I blink in surprise as I block a rather potent, at least magically speaking, stab of Alor's silver spear.
The Falmer dashes away in a few well timed steps and takes a defensive position "My lord?"
"Apologies." I shake my head "I just felt a sudden surge of pride and couldn't identify the source."
"That does seem odd." Alor nods, a sudden wry twitch on his face "And as much as I might desire the pride to be directed at me, I doubt my improvement in combat is worthy of such praise."
"So very verbose in hiding your aspirations." I deadpan at him and he permits himself a smirk "You have improved considerably, especially with the way you tend to tense your Magicka and rapidly vibrate it before every strike. Very inspired move, that one."
Seeing as I obviously wasn't going to resume our bout, he lowers his stance and twirls his spear into a more relaxed hold "It is still in its experimental stages but I have found it greatly enhances my ability to destroy a target. I thank you for your praise non the less however."
I nod along "It is certainly potent at cutting through defensive enchantments and to a lesser extent physical armor." I unsummon my weapon and crown as I keep speaking "Though you seem to still be limited to only melee application of the skill."
"To my eternal shame." He bows his head just a tad too dramatically "My control has not reached such a level that I can keep the vibrations going beyond what I am physically interacting with."
"Fucking duh." I deadpan and he startles "You need to intertwine the vibrations into your spell matrix if you wish for it to transfer. The level of control you'd need otherwise is something even I have trouble with, and my entire bloodline is focused on having perfect control over magic."
"Ah." He blinks and scratches the back of his head "I had hoped to challenge myself into a superior focus, yet it seems all I achieved was folly."
Rolling my eyes I wave for him to follow me to the pavilion where only a few hours ago I was cheerfully entertaining a trio of prestigious guests.
Irritating fat Chorrolians aside I kept talking "It is still a good idea to practice as you do, external control grows exponentially more difficult with each bit of distance you add and any increase in instinctual control will allow you to cast spells of greater complexity more easily."
"So the issue is in practicality then?" His eyebrows raise in realization "Admittedly a rather simple solution, far simpler than I was expecting even..."
"Being ambitious is all well and good, Alor." I speak again as we each take a seat and I wave for a servant to bring us drinks "Being overambitious however will just damage you in the long run. Do the best you can but be wise enough to realize some things come only after years of practice and understanding."
"I will be sure to temper myself then." He inclines his head.
A moment passes and I perk up "A thought occurs." His attention is immediately on me "Since your control is limited to your body and its closest proximity, why not find a way of integrating it into a short range cloak-like spell? It won't be as empowering as a flesh spell but could still offer some great protection if placed atop it."
"That..." He blinks and cups his chin "I will need to consider your idea thoroughly, my lord."
He offers his thanks and we both take an extended moment to relax.
Naturally, as the great Murphy demands, this was exactly the moment one of my guards approached the pavilion and gave me a clipped salute "My lord, a messenger has come to petition for your time."
"Did he introduce himself?" I quirk an eyebrow.
"He did." The Sworn Mer nods "His name is Ioannes, representing 'The Order'. He seemed to heavily imply you would know what he was referring to."
"You are correct." I suppress a grumble "Bloody vampires can't stop poking their noses where they don't belong." The Dunmer tenses slightly but doesn't otherwise react "Fine then, lead the way." I give the Falmer a sideways look, considering him only for a moment before adding "Alor, you are coming with."
-----
The Imperial man in his late twenties was rather respectful as he delivered his invitation to me. He did seem rather miffed when he was informed Alor would be coming along but had enough braincells to rub together as to not talk back.
What made me actually remember his name was the fact that he wasn't an actual vampiric thrall, his mind was completely clear and yet he displayed the same loyalty for one's bloodsucking master a thrall would.
It was a shame I couldn't pick his brain without melting it yet, I would no doubt have found a lot of interesting things in there.
Just as we were about to leave though, I received a message from Titus about a certain project he required help with. He finally seemed to be getting ready to deal with the whole 'big fuck off slum' problem plaguing his capital and wanted to pick my own brain for all the insight I gained when I dealt with Solitude's problem.
The whole thing would no doubt take days but I still had the evening to myself so I just added it to my schedule and kept walking to the Market District, toward that same tavern atop whose balcony I almost melted the annoyingly prideful vampire lady when I first arrived.
'Good times.' Scorch merrily chirps in reminiscence.
A scarred orc stands near the door of the suspiciously empty tavern, the chuckleshit having the temerity to attempt to glare me down as I opened it with magic and without even bothering to acknowledge his presence. He even tried to loom over me but that was quite difficult considering he was shorter than me.
To my grand amusement, as the doors were pushed open, I nearly sent the poor Lady Isabella stumbling, having no doubt caught her in the middle of dramatically opening the way to welcome me.
Though she did compose herself with appreciable speed "Greetings, your lordship." She bows her head "The Order thanks you for your prompt arrival and offers apologies for the inconvenience."
"Yes, yes." I wave her off "Do take me to your so called 'Ancients.' I am curious as to what they thought would be worth my time."
She gulps but nods and starts leading me down a series of stairs "Pardon my impertinence." She speaks up after a while and I wave for her to speak "Was my gift of any use?"
"Your bribe you mean?" I raise an eyebrow with only a bit of mockery in my voice, making the poor woman wince as she remembered my treatment of her in the arena "I am afraid most of the trails you offered were cold."
"Don't get me wrong." I preempt her platitudes "I still managed to track down some clues and even one of the lesser participants in Leyawiin but Titus had already dealt with the corrupt elements of this city quite thoroughly, as your order has no doubt felt on its skin."
"His Imperial Majesty is a wise ruler." She states neutrally.
"Indubitably." I snort, much to her frustration at not being able to just disembowel me for the disrespect no doubt "Still, it did point me to a name of a certain Thalmor currently sitting his pretty golden ass in Hammerfell. So it isn't like your bribe was useless."
Had she a need to breathe she'd no doubt have already let out a relived exhale. Instead we finally reached our destination and she opened the way for me "The Ancients await you within, your lordship."
Nodding at her and promptly ignoring her entire existence, I entered to dark room followed closely by Alor, who was currently channeling so much sun magic just below his skin it made Isabella flinch away minutely.
He was exactly as paranoid as one needed to be when dealing with vampires.
Within the darkened room was an ornate table and a fireplace, the torches on the walls shining just enough to make the whole thing look ominous as a trio of vampires were seated atop equally ornate chairs, with a duo of ever so slightly less fancy seats waiting for the two of us.
Rolling my eyes, I snapped my fingers theatrically, lighting the torches to a far greater extent and shattering the apparent illusion set across the whole room, revealing a duo of slightly surprised vampires in what looked to be comfy sleepwear and a much less surprised older looking man who was actually properly dressed for the meeting.
Also the whole room now looked like what one might describe a particularly opulent medieval nerd cave, with tomes lining the walls, maps laid out all over the place and numerous artifacts of impressive diversity thrown about in a chaotically orderly fashion.
I quickly found my opinion of my host rising.
"Hah." The older vampire, a silver haired man that felt vaguely familiar to me chuckled "Vyren had that same reaction the first time I invited him here."
Suddenly my eyes zero in on the man, narrowing in a light flash of annoyance "There are far too many people who knew my father, or so it would seem." The implication of my words was quite clear.
"A tale older than most men, I am afraid." He notes apologetically "Unfortunately my peers, the Lord Vagyar" The younger Imperial man inclines his head politely but not deferentially "And his Lady Wife" The woman smiles and does nothing else "Are on a limited schedule."
"I see." I state neutrally as both Alor and I take our seats "So tell me, what exactly does the contemporary of the great Champion Ulrika, and the once Count of Skingrad want from little old me?"
"You have answered half of your question already." His lip twitches upward "While I may have abandoned my post due to rising suspicions some one hundred and ninety years ago I truly did love Skingrad." His eyes narrow "I find its current state unacceptable, an opinion I hear you share, or so the whispers tell."
"I see." My eyes narrow as I search for any lie in his words but soften as I find none, something he no doubt noticed with his level of experience "I will listen."
I was not sure if his ensuing smile was one of victory or total sadism.
