The Chronicles of Anton pt. 1
It was a strange dream I had that night. I was on a small island, in darkness, with a bizarre burning thing in front of me. I approached, and saw the Emperor struck down by a terrible monster. I fled, where doors stood like tombstones, and dived for the familiar one, the door to my own home in Leyawiin.
Then I woke.
I lay in bed listening a long while. There was a sound, a thump, outside my door. Not one of the town drunks. Too light. I picked up my father’s old shortsword and opened the door.
The night was outside, and the rain. And.. a note. I stared at it, dreading that the Count may have finally decided that I was to be evicted. I clutched father’s sword tighter at the thought that it might be taken from me as I took the note back inside and read it.
The tale it told was incredible. A prisoner had been released by the Emperor while in flight from red-robed assassins, who had nevertheless managed to slay the Emperor, and mortally wound the prisoner, who had been charged with taking the Amulet of Kings to someone called Jauffre at a priory near Chorrol. I looked at the amulet that had been wrapped in the note, and hefted it. There was magic here, magic that scared me. I went to my little hoard of savings and looked at it.
Barely a hundred gold. Years ago I had been able to purchase this dingy house in Leyawiin as a convenient place to rest up after delving into Valenwood or Blackmarsh for treasures. But the treasures were becoming harder to find, and my gold was now just this handful. Gangs of bandits, including the Black Bow Gang, were holing up in caves and ruins around the town, and the talk was that east of the river the Dunmer slavers were driving Argonian refugees crazy, to the point they were attacking travellers. And that was if the animals — or worse — didn’t get you.
The dream came back, and I poured my meagre gold into my purse. I had to speak to Tun-Zeeus.
I went outside to clear my head. The amulet was a serious matter, kings or no kings. Almost without thought I plucked some steel-blue entomola in passing; eating it helped restore my magicka and didn’t make me fart like bog beacon did.
A faint glow beside some rocks attracted my attention. It came from a strange four-leaved plant I had never seen before. And it rang! Never had I seen the like, so I dug it up. The leaves almost immediately wilted and fell off, leaving the queer, blue-green root. S’drassa would know about this; I could talk to him while waiting for Tun-Zeeus to open shop.
“Nirnroot!” the Khajiit exclaimed, eyeing my little sample. “And here inside the city walls, you say?”
“By Gundalas’ place. Can’t believe I never saw it before.”
“I can, delver. No offense, but you’re stupid. Good with a mortar and pestle, yes, but… ah! Sinderion!”
“Who?”
“Sinderion. A bit strange, but he’s been interested in nirnroot for some time. He’s in Skingrad, if I remember rightly. You should take it to him… and let me know. Oh, and while you’re doing that…”
I left later promising to help find some fancy crystals for him. S’drassa was a good teacher, but a little too blunt. Tun-Zeeus was pretty much the same.
“So! The delver returns! What do you bring me today?”
“My gold,” I said, “I have to leave town for a while.”
“So! I’m on the selling side of the line, eh? What do you need?”
I purchased an iron battle-axe. Tun-Zeeus had no armour to sell, and I hoped that waving something big and heavy around would help scare people a bit.
“Be careful, I guess,” the Argonian smith grunted as I left. “Those damn bandits—”
My progress just to Bravil was slow. There was a group of bandits just north of Water’s Edge, and with some exhilaration I claimed their equipment as booty. A nice suit of fur armour made me feel safer as well, since as night fell I ran into another band of the bastards again, and yet again just south of Bravil. I also plucked another dozen Nirnroot along the way; I’d have to tell this Sinderion that when I met him.
But for now, all I wanted to do was offload some of my loot. I was almost too loaded to walk, and the last thing I wanted to do was lug all those fur suits and weapons all the damn way to Chorrol.
Posted in Articles (Fanfic,Fiction) by R Cruickshank 21/01/08 08:27 AM Tags: anton, fanfic, fiction, oblivion
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