Chapter 13: What comes next?
When they got back to the temple of the divines, Mohamara heard far too many people at work for how early in the morning it was. The Auxiliary dragged him through several checkpoints, thankfully at one of which someone gave him a blanket to cover up with. From words he overheard from the Legionaries there was a widespread mobilization of troops. Something about a Stormcloak attack on Morthal?
"Hold it, Auxiliary," a gruff voice spoke with weight. "That's Jarl Elisif?"
"Yes, General Tullius sir!" The soldier that had seen to Mohamara and Elisif's evacuation stood at attention and released the cat presumably to salute. "Legate Rikke ordered me to see her and this boy out of the combat zone, sir."
"You think that's a child do you, soldier?" There was someone crouched down in front of Mohamara, he could tell by the way he felt a breath tinged with Imperial wine puff in his face. "This is a tojay Khajiit, fully grown. Shame about the blindness though. You okay, cat?"
"Yes, um… General Tullius was it?" Mohamara inclined his head in the direction the wine-breath was coming from. "Your Legate… Rikke and her men are the reason why a Draugr didn't get the chance to chop me up, I think."
"Rikke is one of my best, glad she could get you out of there, son." The wine-breath faded away, and the General addressed the Auxiliary. "Get the Jarl to the Blue Palace staff, then check with the Thalmor to see if they're missing any Khajiit. You're dismissed."
"Sir!" The Auxiliary once more grabbed Mohamara's wrist and the cat realized he should have run when they had a chance. It was a few minutes of silent marching later when the Auxiliary spoke up again, in a whisper. "You in trouble with the Thalmor? Your fur's standing up on end."
"Yeah," Mohamara answered. He hadn't noticed his fur poofing out and hastily started to pat it down.
"Wish I could help you, but orders are orders."
"Don't worry about it, once my Orc friend gets back up here we'll get it all sorted out. You could just leave me with the Jarl's people and I can fill them in on what happened down there?" It was a slim hope, but Mohamara had to try. The sounds of Castle Dour faded and were replaced with the sounds of the Avenues district which in turn soon became replaced with the Blue Palace's silence.
"Jarl Elisif!" Another voice Mohamara couldn't put a face to, one he had heard from the court advising against sending forces to secure Wolfskull, cried out in shock and the sound of slippered feet came rushing over. "She isn't
dead , is she?"
"No, just sleeping." Mohamara looked up in the Auxiliary's direction. "I could have dispelled that by the way, but this way meant you brought me with you all the way to the Blue Palace and away from the Thalmor." The Khajiit grinned, ideally into a scowling Imperial face.
"…That's fair, I guess," the Auxiliary muttered. "Do you have a place I can set her down, so the cat can wake her up, lord Firebeard?"
"Yes, yes right this way." 'Firebeard' led them into the palace and right into the foyer.
Mohamara hoped that the man actually dyed his beard a mix of red, orange, and yellow to mimic fire or he'd question the worthiness of the name. Once Elisif was set down Mohamara easily Dispelled the sleep that had been placed on her. For all the talking he had done with Stentor about Mysticism, she never seemed to piece together that it was possible to shatter the sympathetic bonds between a spell, its effects, and its target.
When Elisif woke, it was with violent outrage as she instinctively lashed out and punched Mohamara square in the face as he was the closest one to her. It was then that the tojay remembered she was a Nord, and Nords seemed to have a racial ability to throw strong punches.
What followed was an explanation of the situation with Potema, Stentor, and why the cat had been dungeon diving while blind.
"The answer to that might upset certain people in attendance, my Jarl," Mohamara said when Elisif put the third question to him. "Are you sure you want the answer?"
"Yes. My life was at risk—my
subject's lives were at risk." Elisif's voice was brisk and uneasy, riding an emotional wave to make it seem like she was fine when likely she was far from it. "I cannot spare the time to care about people's feelings right now."
"Well, it was because people like Stentor… and your steward didn't think it was important enough to bother with." Mohamara's tail flicked a bit in agitation, remembering the appeal from Varnius just the day before. "If they were right, I would have been fine, and if they were wrong then I wanted to be in a spot where I could help. And staying behind would have meant letting my friend go in there alone."
"My Jarl," Firebeard started, then paused for a moment. "You were right, and I was wrong. If we had sent a legion into the cave, perhaps this situation could have been avoided."
"Unlikely." The tojay wagged his finger at where the steward's voice came from. "The binding ritual the necromancers were going to use on Potema didn't include her Dovahzul name. No matter what happened, she would have gotten free and made her way into those catacombs. Unless of course one of those soldiers you sent in happened to be Dragonborn."
"I think I'd notice if one of my fellow soldiers had scales and wings," the Auxiliary tried to crack a joke, but instead earned the unwavering stares of the Jarl and the steward. Mohamara's stare was diminished by the band of cloth in front of his eyes. "Sorry."
"You said your friend, the Orc Companion, she knew about Sybille being a vampire for years?" Elisif addressed Mohamara, who nodded. "Heh, I wonder who else knew and thought me a puppet for her. …Falk?"
"There were rumors, my Jarl, and nothing more." Firebeard—Falk—seemed to have regained confidence in himself since apologizing. "Sybille wasn't well liked in the city, but I can't say I heard many people accusing her of wickedness like this."
"Vampires are products of Molag Bal violating women," Mohamara started to recite what he had heard in Temple about the many types of undead. "Like dragons that have a deep-seated desire for power and domination. This can make them rabid for power, or insidious in their plots. She could have had you under a spell and you'd be perfectly fine with her—perhaps someone
did start accusing her of this and she made you forget. Since she likely didn't write it down, we'll never know. With her skill in Restoration, she could have been
feeding off you and you'd never notice."
Though Mohamara could not see it, Elisif quickly placed her hand around her neck—feeling for any bite marks.
"That… I want to say you're blowing this out of proportion." The steward spoke again. "But after hearing that Sybille was part of a plot to resurrect Potema, I can't rule anything out."
An awkward silence started but was eventually broken by the Auxiliary coughing. "Well, Jarl Elisif I'm glad you're okay. But I have my orders—I need to take this Khajiit with me to the Thalmor."
"But he's with the bard's college, not the Dominion," Elisif spoke up for Mohamara and stood up from the way her bench creaked suddenly. "I demand to know why you must hand him over to the Thalmor, soldier."
"Well—the General's orders were to see if the Thalmor were missing Khajiit, and the Khajiit said--"
"I am a citizen of the Tamrielic Empire," Mohamara quickly started, standing between the Auxiliary and Elisif. Fortunately, the hegemonic Empire he'd come from in the Twenty-First Era had decided on a throwback name which meant technically Mohamara wasn't lying. "Born and raised in Skyrim—in Haafingar, even, on Mount Kilkreath. I am one of
your citizens, Jarl Elisif. Don't let them hand me over to the Dominion just because I'm a Khajiit. Please?"
"I… I don't want to, but General Tulius…." Elisif probably had an understandably difficult relationship with the foreign military leader in her city, it was hinted at in her tone.
So Mohamara took off the cloth over his eyes and turned up his 'cute cat face' to maximum levels. It was his last way of killing time before Yagraz caught up with him.
"Under article sixteen, section twelve of the White-Gold Concordat," Falk declared like he was announcing a royal decree. "The Dominion cannot pursue legal action against citizens of the Tamrielic Empire who are not in breach of the clause concerning the worship of Talos. And under the Provincial charter for Skyrim, even in times of war the Empire cannot detain or extradite people in a Jarl's court without a writ from the Emperor himself." There was a moment of silence while the humans worked their minds and Mohamara kept his 'cute eyes' up.
"I recall you bringing up a topic of a patronage for the bard's college when we last spoke, yes? I hereby grant your request and offer you the position. Will you accept?" When Mohamara, naturally, accepted, Elisif directed a question to Falk. "There used to be court Skalds, or bards of Jarls, yes?"
"Ah, not quite my lady. It, um… the official title was 'court jester' or 'fool'. Sometimes 'knave', but that was back in the time of the First Era."
"If it means I don't get High Elves sticking sharp metal things in my skin until I tell them things, I will gladly accept any of those titles," Mohamara informed the Jarl and steward. "Hell, you can call me 'royal cat' and I will only consider you sort-of racist."
Elisif snrrked at Mohamara's joke. "Okay, I'll consider the 'royal cat' thing if I ever actually become High Queen." Her tone became far more formal, presumably as she was addressing the Auxiliary. "Inform the General that this Khajiit is part of my court, and I do not take kindly to him attempting to violate the Provincial charter of Skyrim, even unintentionally. You are dismissed, soldier."
The Auxiliary left with little resistance. Likely he only resisted the idea at all because it meant he had to report directly to the General. And no one wants to tell their boss that their other boss is mad at them.
--
Mohamara, the new 'Fool of Solitude' for a little while at least, was given a guard to escort him back to the city to locate Yagraz. Which turned out to be easy—she was in the Winking Skeever having drinks with the Legate who had saved the day down in Potema's crypt, Rikke. "I'm so glad that while I was risking being sent to the Thalmor," Mohamara told her, voice flat, "you were getting wasted."
"Short-stuff, you woulda gotten out." Yagraz pointed at him with her bottle of mead, and almost spilled it on the floor. "Just had to get naked-er and run away like you did in Markarth."
The tojay scowled in Yagraz's general direction while she snickered. "I don't know if I'm more annoyed that you brought that up in public, or that it would probably work. Still, I know how to get vengeance on you come tomorrow." With a self-assured stance, Mohamara stumbled his way to his room.
As it turned out, however, when the next morning came Yagraz was not in an awful hangover like Mohamara expected, so he could not have his vengeance in that way. So, he roped her into his backup vengeance.
Talking to every. Single. Person in Solitude about how they felt about Elisif, what they liked and what they disliked. Every store owner, every dock worker, every child running through the streets, every beggar on the corner, every madman wandering the alleys about how his master was vitally needed. There was only one of those, however.
Mohamara recorded their responses with his slate and started to work on the final report to present to Elisif. Fortunately, the Burmice servitor was able to take dictation for hands-free writing. Which meant that he could have his Yagraz mount travel to the bard's college for review.
Naturally, Viarmo thought it to be far too critical of Elisif but he understood once Mohamara explained it was the sentiments of the citizens which Elisif was paying him for.
"Alright, I'm sorry for leaving you alone to almost get snatched by Thalmor," Yagraz finally admitted on the approach to the Blue Palace.
Mohamara adjusted the hood of the Jarl's court outfit he'd switched into and made himself as comfortable as he could on the Orc's shoulders. "And?"
"And for telling an entire bar about an embarrassing story you told me in confidence."
"There we go, you're forgiven." The tojay made sure nothing was going to get caught on Yagraz's shoulder spikes, then hopped off to walk on his own. "Now let's go wreck a Jarl's day."
As a member of the court, Mohamara didn't have to wait in the foyer with the few people seeking an audience, he could stand among the Thanes and delight in how they tried to politely shoo him away.
After a proposal for a parade was dismissed, considering a recent Stormcloak attack on the city of Morthal, Elisif addressed the blind cat. "Ah, my Fool returns so soon. Composed a little ditty about how my people feel for me, yet?"
"Indeed, my Jarl." Mohamara bowed in her general direction while moving to the middle of the throne room. "And that is a prelude to how this is going to go, I'm afraid. If you would like to receive it with just you and the steward in the room?"
"No, no. I would like my entire court to hear what the people think of me, so they can all help to improve upon it."
"As you wish." Mohamara cleared his
throat and made it look like he was reading from his slate while breaking out into lyrical
speech. "You say: The price of this war is a price that you're willing to pay." He pointed opposite the Jarl's throne, to indicate the city outside.
"They cry; in fields, on the hills or at sea after battle goes by. Why so blue?"
The palace itself was indicated, though the people felt more it was that Elisif had been in mourning for far too long given a war going on.
"The one at the risk of dying out there isn't you. Am I making you mad? If you're sick of lying, then I'm your man." Falk had been completely wrong about how many people complained about Stentor, to the point where Falk himself was considered an unscrupulous liar. But the song wasn't about him. Mohamara gestured with wide arms to Elisif,
"what comes next? You've been freed. Do you even really want to lead?" The next part saw Mohamara show off his high-jump capabilities to show excitement.
"Potema's dead. Awesome! Wow!"
All amusement left Mohamara's body language, but not his expression for the next part.
"Do you want to know what happens now? Oceans rise, Empires fall!" The citizens had been with her in supporting the Empire, but more than half of them thought the institution was past the tipping point and would fail on its own.
"Except now it's really your call. So, when push comes to shove, will you rule them all with fear or with love?"
Part of the job of a Fool was to get people to laugh, so a ridiculous dance number during a cool down period for his voice. A bit of self-healing during the dance allowed him to keep going after without fear of his voice cracking.
"They say their coin is draining and they can't go on! To you, they'll be complaining when it's all gone." Mohamara cartwheeled over to the Jarl's throne, sidestepped the armored and thus noisy housecarl who tried to stop him and leaned against the back of the Jarl's fancy chair. Even seated, he knew she would be taller than him.
"And I will not change the subject. For these are your own subjects. Your less than happy subjects. Your loyal "royal" subjects." The use of air quotes marked Mohamara leaving the throne zone, jumping up, landing on the housecarl's head and leaping away to his starting position.
"What comes next? Like those before, will you fight the fight and win the war?" If he had been aware of the late High King's portrait in the throne room, he could have used that to drive the point even deeper. But he didn't so he just turned his back on Elisif and spread his arms toward the city of Solitude.
"For their love, for their praise? So they'll love you till their dying days?" Again, the cat drastically moved position, spinning his way toward where Stentor had stood during the court proceedings last time.
"When you're gone, will they be glad? And tell everyone how you were bad? So, when push comes to shove…" The housecarl was making another attempt to grab him, Mohamara could tell from the sudden approach of steel plate boots.
"Will you rule them all with fear—" he jumped over the man's grab at him, landed on his back and bounded away to drive the housecarl face-first into the wall.
"Or with love?"
A final bow marked the end of the performance, to weak applause. Expected, considering he'd gone with the tune of an Eighteenth Era play's music for the piece, and the subject matter.
"I'm… not sure I quite understood all of it," Elisif started when the clapping ended. "But from what I gather, the people are not happy with me for multiple reasons."
"You are as foreign to them as General Tullius, my Jarl." Mohamara stood up and pretended to work on something on his slate. "They know nothing about you, and think you'll end up as a tyrant if this war keeps up."
"Yes, that is one of the things I picked up on." The Jarl shifted on her throne, to address the court at large. "How might this be remedied?"
"Lower the tax burden on the citizens," a female Thane said. "The East Empire Company can afford to pay more."
"And if the Company decides to leave Solitude to go somewhere with fewer taxes?" A male Thane responded to the other. "Skyrim isn't as rich as High Rock or Cyrodiil, they have no obligation to do business here."
"My Jarl," Mohamara spoke up again. "Do you go to the temple of the divines often?" Elisif responded in the negative, Mohamara sighed. "Julianos tells the faithful 'when in doubt, seek the wisdom of the wise.' Your court can help you to rule Haafingar
efficiently , but perhaps you would be best served by asking your fellow Jarls for advice on how to keep your people happy?"
"In better times, I would agree." Elisif's tone was sorrowful. "But I've heard reports from Markarth and Morthal. The people there are far from happy—and Jarl Siddgeir of Falkreath is even newer to ruling than I."
"What about Whietrun, then?" The female Thane once again spoke. "Balgruuf holds no animosity towards you, and his people are happy enough."
"If he's the one to ask, my friend and I will be passing through Whiterun on a quest to retrieve some stolen property from Eastmarch." Mohamara gestured to Yagraz who stepped out of the shadows to look as menacing as possible. "We could deliver the request and bring it back to you?"
"Oh, you're leaving? I thought… no, that's perfect." Elisif clapped her hands, in an attempt to appear Jarl-ly. "Falk, some quills and paper please, I need to write a letter to Jarl Balgruuf the Greater. No, I will not dictate it, I will write it
myself ."
--
Yagraz and Mohamara soon found themselves on a carriage to Whiterun, paid for by the Jarl to speed them in delivering her letter. It had been lowkey hilarious, according to Yagraz to watch the Jarl struggle with sealing wax when her missive was complete. She assured Mohamara she'd snapped a picture of it on her micro-slate to share with him when he got his eyesight back.
On the road, they passed a pair of dueling wizards. Apparently, they were fighting to see whom could apply to be Solitude's new court wizard. The carriage driver stopped at Yagraz's insistence and the pair of them watched the fight while Mohamara asked for details every so often. In a battle between ice and fire magic, fire had the advantage of lower cost to create and a sort of scaling damage—burning a person already on fire would double the amount of fire they were on.
Except the ice mage had one crucial advantage: Physical projectiles. The fire was well and good, but it couldn't defeat three ice spikes launched into the liver, lungs, and head at medium range. Ice won the duel and marched up the road to Solitude.
After days of travel, Mohamara's sight returned and he could see exactly how stupid he had looked with his Jarl's court outfit. The fabric was black velvet with garnets sewn into the color sleeves, hood and buttons with floral silver designs worked around them.
As the horse was given a break in Rorikstead around that time, the tojay decided to talk about it with Yagraz. "Okay,
how much money did those elves owe you to use real fucking garnets in the buttons?"
Yagraz's response was a wicked smile and whisper. "I got them a deal with the Jarl of Whiterun—they do all his and his kid's clothes. So,
a lot is what they owed me."
Mohamara boggled at the idea, he looked at Yagraz, and the real garnets sewn into the robe and still couldn't process it. But then his ears went flush against his head, and his tail began to thrash. "If I go look at the smallclothes from them and find garnets I'm gonna--"
"Excuse me, young man?" An elderly Breton from the town's manor on the hill had come down while the two friends talked in the unhorsed carriage. He had a narrow face and wore quilted brown clothes. "I heard from your coachman that you and your friend were coming from Haafingar? Would you by any chance know Maria, who lives on Mount Kilkreath?"
Mohamara whipped his head around to look at the man while Yagraz leaned forward, with her hand on her ax. "Yes," the cat answered perhaps too quickly. "I'm a friend of Maria's."
The old man's face split open in a wide smile. "Oh, happy day! I'm also a friend of Maria's, but I haven't heard from her in so long, I thought maybe something had happened."
"She's… been kidnapped," Mohamara carefully put it while looking around for any signs of a Vigilant ambush. "My friend isn't a friend of hers, but she's a friend of mine, and is going to help me rescue her."
"Maria? Kidnapped? Oh, how awful." The man's excitement withered away quickly. "No wonder she hasn't responded to any of my invitations to come visit. Where have those scoundrels taken her, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Eastmarch. She's being held in Eastmarch."
The elderly Breton rubbed his chin in consideration. "How could they have gotten her all the way to Eastmarch without crossing this way? Oh, she'll be so very cross with me for not noticing." He looked back up to the tojay, with plaintive eyes. "Please, rescue Maria quickly. Knowing her, she'll want to go home straight away, so I'll ask her to visit some other time. If you can manage to see her back home—I'll find a way to reward you. Just come back to Rorikstead when it's done and find me. My name is Jouane Manette."
"Mohamara Ahramani, and Yagraz gro-Dushnikh," the tojay indicated himself and then Yagraz for the late introductions.
"Thank you for telling me the news and may the light of certitude guide you to Maria, and safely back." Without anything else to say, Jouane briskly walked away from the carriage and into the local bar.
"So," Yagraz started after they were alone again. "Want to give me the odds on him being a Rainbow Man, like you? Ack! Attack of the tail-snake! I am defeated, laid low, and made a corpse by the assault of fluff!"
---
My best friend, who has been a big help with the fic in general, did a cover of Mohamara's little song.
Please keep all criticism respectful and constructive.