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Post by pat673 on Sept 14, 2008 4:23:15 GMT
I've wanted to do this story for a while now, but usually I don't have the time or patience to start a new story unless I have nothing else to do. Funnily enough, I have lots of things to do so now I'm going to write a story. This will detail the life of Arcturus Raman, from childhood to birth, one of my many Oblivion characters that became a Mage and worked for the Mages Guild. I won't give the story away, but suffice to say Arcturus is not your average protagonist, in fact he may as well be the bad guy. Also a quick tip of my hat to FC4 and his work on The Mechanics of Magicka, as it greatly helped me learn to write about magic and how it cast in the realm of Tamriel, rather than just pressing a button and watching a ball of fire envelop some pesky Town Guard. Anyway, on with the show! *** The rays of the angry orange sun beat down mercilessly on the whistling golden sands of the endless sea of dunes, shifting and changing at all times. As sure as the sun rose and set, the sands of the deserts of Elsweyr would always be altering, something that infuriated the lone figure that stumbled through the harsh winds, hands clasped around a tattered brown headscarf, his brown robe billowing in the blustery weather. The figure continued to trudge through the deep dunes, his footprints swallowed up by sand in a matter of seconds. If he didn't know this desert like the back of his hand, he would have died days ago. The caped form of the man slid down a steep embankment, finding temporary respite from the brutal and buffeting winds. As he drew back his headscarf, lank and greasy brown hair fell to his shoulders and over craggy and roughly hewn features. Wiping beads of sweat from his brow, the man known as Serverus walked forward, breathing heavily and began stamping his feet onto the seemingly solid sand. The ground beneath him began to sag under the weight of the bulky and built man, before he reached down and wiped away handfuls of sand. Serverus' scarred and heavily tanned hands found the iron ring of the trapdoor and pulled upward. He emitted a deep and primitive groan as his tired muscles strained with the heavy trapdoor. Within a few more seconds, he let the door hang open vertically and stared into the bleak gloom of the dugout, before ripping off the irritating headscarf from his shoulders and jumping in. He landed with a thump and willed his eyes to grow accustomed to the relative blackness of the pit. Closing the trapdoor behind him, the Imperial walked forward doggedly, arms outstretched before him and grit and sand grinding underfoot. Suddenly a small emerald green light ebbed forward, basking the entire tunnel in it's pleasant glow. Serverus stopped and in the dim green light, a thin smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The smile soon turned into a grin as the light grew nearer, the user approached without so much as a footfall. "Serverus, you had better hurry; it has already begun." Came a rich and musical voice, marking the speaker as one of the Mer races. Even if they did speak the Common Tongue, they managed to make it sound melodic. Or at least in Serverus' opinion. "How long?" He asked, his voice gravelly and hoarse from lack of water. "The last thing she would want is if I missed it." The figure laughed before letting the light grow stronger, showing to complete effect the strong contrast between the two figures: one a weather beaten and unkept Imperial, and the other a finely dressed and lithe form of an Altmer female. "I don't think you would want to be there when it started, I've never heard her curse the Nine Divines so much." Serverus laughed and resumed his walk, the Altmer falling in beside him. "That's what happens when you're pregnant, I suppose. I don't exactly relish you females, Earana." "Well, I sincerely hope I don't get pregnant. From the looks of your wife, Serverus, I would say she is in a great deal of pain." "Is that normal?" He asked, worry beginning to sink into his heart. "I mean, shouldn't Ysabel..." Earana put a comforting hand on the man's shoulder, silencing him. "It's perfectly normal. I think I've seen more pregnancies in the service of the Blades than I have when I was a Healer in Vvardenfell; you know Dunmeri women are." "Yes, well we Blades have to keep ourselves entertained don't we?" Serverus stated mischievously. The two turned a corner that slanted deeper into the earth, this time the long corridor was lit by a series of torches in brackets nailed to the cool limestone walls. The Imperial saw Earana gather her cloak closer around her; while one could burn to death on the surface, below the sands and in the limestone caverns beneath the deserts, one could also freeze to death. "What news of Cyrodiil?" Asked Earana as they walked. From a questioning look from Serverus, she added. "I don't get much time mingle with anyone with these days. It doesn't help that we're out in the middle of nowehere, either." Serverus sighed, "It would seem that the Emperor's health is failing. Wether or not it is just a rumour, I don't know, but the news still troubles me. Nor does it help me sleep at night with news of some ancient...plague befalling Morrowind. Rumours of death and destruction are abundant these days, it would seem." "I think you'll be able to take your mind off things for a while, anyway. With you, Ysabel and the little one moving back to Skingrad, things sure will be quiet around here. By the way, have you thought of a name?" Serverus hesitated, biting his lip as the pair maintained their steady walk deeper into the earth. "I was thinking Arcturus; after my Father." Earana nodded solemnly, "Of course. Arcturus Raman," she said, as if seeing how the name rolled off her tongue. "Was he -- your father, I mean -- named after the constellation? The name of a star given to a child is very significant." "Well, actually, he was named after Tiber Septim's Imperial Battlemage, Zurin Arctus. He was responsible for ressurecting the Numidium and bringing Tamriel under the banner of Tiber Septim, and so bringing peace to Tamriel." Earana nodded again but kept silent. While she worked for the Blades, she was still loyal to her home of Summerset Isles and talk of the Empire's past and of Tiber Septim's conquest of Tamriel irked her a little. A piercing scream cut through the tense silence that followed between the two and Serverus was soon running towards the sound, the Altmer right behind him. In less than a minute, he came bursting into the study turned Nursery, his wife Ysabel screaming and puffing as people hurried about. Serverus approached and took his wife's hand in his, only for it to be squeezed like in the grasp of an angry Ogre. "By the Nine!" He exclaimed, wincing as Ysabel pushed and squeezed his hand. "You're doing great honey. Just keep pushing." Within the next few minutes, Serverus' son was born, a healthy baby boy by the name of Arcturus. Serverus took his son in his hands as his wife slept. He turned to Earana and grinned wildly, his eyes dancing with delight, "This boy is meant for greatness."
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Post by pat673 on Sept 14, 2008 6:05:14 GMT
[center]9 years later[/center][/u]
The rain seemed endless as it poured into the streets of Skingrad from the bloated and dark heavens above. Most citizens were taking shelter from such an abrupt and voilent storm, but for certain other inhabitants of the large city, it was high time to thief and cheat the general populace from their gold and valuables. A small but agile raven haired boy ran forward, ignoring the rain pelting into his back as he darted between buildings and stayed out of the sight of the Town Guard. The gloom provided by the storm gave the boy some decent cover, but if he was caught, he was almost certain his Father, the Captain of the Town Guard would disown him and send him packing. He didn't relish the life of a wanderer or a nomad searching for work, but thieving was another matter entirely; he loved the thrill of a heist, the uplifting feeling of his small hand being weighed down by a hefty bag of gold and most of all, the respect and recognition it earned him from the other kids and teenagers in the town.
He passed a burnt out and abandoned building, it's stones burnt black, a grim reminder of the Oblivion Crisis which had occurred nearly three years ago now. But the boy wasn't interested in his town's recent history, if he had the choice he would of left it to it's economic decline.
"Arcturus!" Came a hiss from the gloom ahead. The boy recognised it as his friend Gilbert, seven years his senior. "We found it."
Arcturus flashed a toothy and uneven smile and hurried ahead, his heart beginning to hammer inside his chest. His hand went into one of his many pockets sown onto his brown cotton slacks and retrieved a lock pick and probe. Other children around his age, and older teens joined him as he ran on through the narrow and cobbled streets of Skingrad, careful not to slip up on the wet stones. Passed a curtain of rain, Arcturus could see Gilbert hold up his hand, indicating silence.
Arcturus scurried forward, his hand absently touching the hilt of his dirk strapped to his belt and spied his intended target: the Fighter's Guild Hall of Skingrad. Arcturus was without a doubt the most successful and talented thief Skingrad had seen for dozens of years, but some -- mainly those jealous of his natural ability, claimed that he dabbled in the arts of Magick and that is what helped him all these times.
The simple truth was that Arcturus knew a few spells here and there, but nothing that could get him out of the streets and into the Mages Guild. Even if he had wanted to, his Father wouldn't allow it; he distrusted Mages more than he distrusted Khajiit's and he didn't like the idea of his son being under their tutelage at all. Of course to Arcturus it sounded like a flimsy excuse that made him rebel against his Father and learn some weaker Illusion spells from a bedraggled busker and entertainer that was often in town. For it to be common knowledge, however, would spell the downfall of his successful and blooming thieving career; to use magick in thieving was considered disrespectful and dishonourable, especially to those without such talent.
But Arcturus didn't really care, if he could get the most gold and treasures from the people of Skingrad by the use of a little Magicka, who was he to complain and not use his natural gift. The boy followed Gilbert to a side door and the two held a quick conference.
"Through this door is a corridor, a stairway will be to your right and left. Ignore both and take the door to the right," explained the older Gilbert, brushing his fine blonde locks out of his eyes. "Through that door you'll come to three doors, take the one on the left. Through that door is the storage room, but on the other side is the door leading to the basement, where they keep it."
Arcturus nodded, letting the information sink in. "No stairway, door to the right, left door, storage room and then the basement. Got it."
Gilbert nodded and grinned, "Great. Now, once you have it, don't go the same way you came; it's more likely you'll get caught. Instead, head to the first corridor and take the stairs to your right. At the top of those stairs is a window, open it and jump out: me and the boys will be waiting with a sheet to catch you. Got it? Good. Good luck."
With that, Gilbert scuttled off around the corner, leaving Arcturus before the looming wooden door, his instruments shaking slightly in his right hand. He always got shaky before a big score.
Sniffing and blinking the rain out of his lashes as it fell from his short hair and the sky, Arcturus worked the probe and the lockpick like a master; the click of the lock sounded within minutes, the sound of it like music to the boy's ears. Firelight spilled out into the gloom and Arcturus hurriedly entered and closed the door behind him as quietly as he could. He snuck forward, grudgingly aware of the wet footprints he has going to leave after him and silently praised Gilbert for his thinking of taking another route for his exit.
Fortunately, all of the doors within the vast building of the lavishly decorated Fighters Guild were left open, making his job a lot easier. Several minutes later of sneaking with the help of a spell of Night Eye and having dodged several members still out and about, Arcturus had found the storeroom and the basement door at the opposite end. Sticking to the shadows that hugged the walls of the storeroom, Arcturus came to the door and willed his mind deeper within himself and dipped into his Magicka reservoir's and stretched out his hand and laid it on the lock. A soft purple light flooded from his finger tips, the shape of the appropriate key forming in his young mind. Eyes closed, the key sled into place, the tumblers of the lock rolling back and with a soft click, the door was unlocked. A spell that could have taken a Mage's Apprentice days to master had taken Arcturus months, but he felt proud of himself nonetheless as he crept forward and closed the door behind him.
Only one torch burnt in the Storeroom, offering meager and fractured light. Arcturus went onward and found his quarry set on a barrel set at the far end of the room. It was almost too easy. He crept forward, his eyes never leaving the golden ring. He stretched out a hand, his heart beginning to sound in his ears as his fingers were mere centimetres from grabbing the prize.
His instincts screamed at him that something was wrong and that he should turn back and run. Usually, Arcturus would never ignore his gut feeling, but to be so close to his prize and not to be able to lay his hands on it; it was almost as if there was something distressingly wrong about it. Shaking his head as if to clear it, he stretched out his hands once more and grabbed the Ring of Khajiiti.
Arcturus was motionless, his eyes squinched up as he expected some sort of trap or reprisal, but none was forthcoming. Letting out a pent up breathe, Arcturus pocketed the ring and crept back out of the basement. Doing as Gilbert suggested, he turned and went up the stairs and came to the foggy window. Licking his lips in apprehension, Arcturus set his weak hands to the window but it wouldn't budge or shift. A shiver ran up his spine as a shout went up somewhere in the Guildhall, making the boy freeze with fear and his hair stand on end.
He crouched and hugged the wall as footsteps approached from downstairs and began to climb the stairway. Licking his lips once more, Arcturus prayed the person wouldn't see him, bathed in shadow and trying desperately to become the wall. The footsteps continued to climb until they stopped metres from the boy, the sound of a knife being drawn seemed to bounce off the silent and cold walls.
By now Arcturus was on the verge of tears as his chest tightened with fear and anxiety, his breathing came in little pathetic gasps. Two more footfalls and the cold sting of a knife blade was pressed against his bare neck. The boy squirmed and uttered a pitiful moan as the realisation that he had been found out struck him like a blow to the face.
The figure leant forward and whispered harshly, "Give me the ring and we can forget this ever happened." The voice sounded disturbing familiar, but in his state of fear, Arcturus couldn't put a face to the words.
When the boy didn't reply, only sobbed and cowered away from the press of the knife, the figure leant closer, his breath a mixture of onion and some homemade brew. "Give me the ring, Arcturus! I could kill you right now, and no-one would ever know...or care. Just give me the ring and I'll let you live."
Arcturus swore at himself as tears made dirty tracks down his cheeks. The man pressed his knife in harder for emphasis. The boy fished inside his pocket and brought out the ring, instantly wishing he had used it instead of pocketing it, and set it in the free palm of the figure.
"Thanks, Arcturus." came the curt reply of the man, his voice squeaking a bit. Arcturus frowned and turned his head slightly to see vaguely familiar pants. The man gruffly pulled the boy up by the back of his shirt and propped him against the window. "W-what are you doing?" he asked.
"Giving you what you deserve," snarled the man, pocketing both his knife and the ring before viciously kicking out with his right leg. Arcturus was propelled out the window, the fragile glass shattering, he screamed shrilly, his stomach twisting and his legs tingling as he fell. He hit the cobbled street with a sickening crunch, his shinbones breaking and his head colliding with the stones. He let out a piercing wail before squirming and managing to turn over, the last thing he remembered was the image of Gilbert standing at the window ledge, a triumphant grin spreading across his face...
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Post by pat673 on Sept 15, 2008 8:36:13 GMT
Arcturus woke, if it could have been called awake, to him it seemed as if he floated in between the realms of the living and that of the dead. He tried to open his eyes, only to find them glued shut and refusing to open, the strange blend of colours as bright light penetrated his eyelids, pierced the gloom of his own making. He tried to sit up, only for strong but gentle hands to push him back down, and that's when the pain seemed to register in his mind.
He shrieked in agony, the pain in his legs was unbearable and the sharp throbbing in his head almost overshadowed. Arcturus arched his back as the pain came in waves, threatening to overcome him. He convulsed and tried to scream again, but all that came out was a hoarse croak.
"...him water, please, Sara. And a cloth," Came a soothing voice somewhere close to him. "Shh, boy. You'll do yourself no good by acknowledging the pain."
Arcturus cringed and tried to curl into a ball to find his searing legs unresponsive. Another cry escaped his lips as fingers and hands probed his legs, no matter how gentle the touch, it was enough to make him vomit from the pain. A hand grabbed his shoulder and eased him into the soft cushiony surface of what he assumed was a bed and a waterskin was pressed to his lips. The ice cold water flooded down his hoarse throat and cascaded down his chin, somehow he managed to forgot the excrutiating pain for a moment and focus on the water.
"Easy, lad." Came the voice again, "Too much and you'll vomit it back up. Now, can you speak?"
Arcturus managed to nod his head slightly as tears of pain and fear rolled down his cheeks, his eyelids somehow became looser. He'd never felt such pain before in his life and as he fluttered at the edge of consciousness, a soft hand lightly tapped his cheek before a damp cloth came over his eyes and face. "Don't worry, boy. Your eyes were glued together with your own blood. There we go, open your eyes. Slowly."
Arcturus did as he was told, a bright shaft of light penetrating his eyes and seemed to bounce around the walls of his skull, making him groan instinctively. Two darker figures flickered at the edge of his vision as his eyes refused to focus, pain coming unabated.
"What's your name?" His head reeled as the voice seemed as loud and harsh as a war-horn in his head.
Arcturus moaned, wishing desperately for the pain to go away. When it didn't, he managed to say, "Arcturus. Arcturus Raman."
The figures that loomed over him slowly came into focus, a small, pretty girl with blonde hair stood to his left, clutching at a stuffed toy worriedly. To his right towered a mer, white-blonde hair falling in front of his face, over finely chiseled and elegant golden features. "Well, Arcturus, the first thing you need to know is that you're going to be alright. But I need you to promise me something, okay? I need you to promise that you're not going to give up; what I'm about to do is going to hurt alot and we have to move you elsewhere, so just hang in there and be strong."
Something about the words of the Mer reassured him and Arcturus strove to ignore the pain and willed it to go away. From the corner of his eye he could see a soft and comforting blue light beginning to pool in the Altmer's hand. The boy winced and moaned in pain as the Altmer lay his hand on his broken legs, but his pain soon began to dissolve as the blue light began to envelop his legs and re-assemble the shattered bones. Like cool water washing over a burn, Arcturus found himself wincing with the sudden change.
As the blue light seeped into his skin and made it's way upward, cacooning his thighs and soon his hips, mending his damaged body, Arcturus found his eyes focusing and his resolve becoming stronger. He wiped away his tears with one hand while the other held his pounding head. Suddenly the memories came flooding back, the theft of the Khajiiti Ring, sneaking up the stairway, the ice cold grip of fear clutching his heart as the knife pressed harder into his neck, glass shattering and incredible pain...And Gilbert standing at the window, a wicked grin spreading on his face. Now fear and pain turned to seething anger and hatred. He had been betrayed by his best friend! It had all been a setup, nothing more. Gilbert had planned it from the beginning, to gain both the ring and to get rid of his competition, Arcturus.
The Altmer must have seen the look in his eyes and leant over the small Imperial boy. "It's alright. You're safe now...I don't know what happened out there, but Sara and I found you lying in the street surrounded by glass and blood. You're in my room at the Inn, but we need to get you home. I've done all I could, but I'm afraid I can't do anything more. What you need is rest and lot's of it." The Altmer smiled warmly and laid a comforting hand on his head. "Now, where do you live?"
"Next to the South Gate," Arcturus replied slowly, the pain beginning to ebb away. "But what's your name?"
"Raven," the Altmer replied before looking at a loose strand of his white hair falling in front of his steel and cunning blue eyes. He laughed, "I know, it doesn't seem to fit, but it's a long story and for another night. I'm going to pick you up now, alright?"
Arcturus just nodded and braced himself as Raven's elegant but strong hands collected him into his arms, his mind suddenly turning to the haunting pain and feeling of falling returning to his gut. The girl named Sara, who Arcturus noted was human, clutched at her bear harder before asking hesitantly, "What are you going to do with him, Raven?"
"It's alright, Sara. I'm taking him to his home, he'll be safe there." The Altmer replied, carefully adjusting Arcturus in his arms. The little girl didn't look convinced. "You can stay here, be ready to continue our exercises when I get back."
The little girl nodded briskly, "Yes, Master."
Raven nodded, pleased and continued out of the bedroom, opening the door with a quick flick of his wrist as magicka flowed out like water from a cup. "Do you have a family, Arcturus?" He suddenly asked.
The boy hesitated before replying, "Yes...M-my da is the Captain of the Guard. My ma is a traveling merchant; I don't see her much." Inside, Arcturus still seethed from the betrayal and he was still in small amounts of physical and mental pain.
"Does that trouble you?" Raven asked, opening the door out into the street, the golden sunrise marking it dawn the next day. "Not seeing your mother, I mean."
"Yes, I suppose," answered Arcturus, tears beginning to well up in his eyes once more. "Actually, I miss her a lot. I used to her see her everyday when I was smaller, but then my da became Captain of the Guard and they had a big fight, and then she left. I've only see my ma a few times since then...What about you, Raven, do you have a family?"
"No," the Altmer replied sourly. "Or at least, none that I would care to acknowledge as my family. I'm older than I look, Arcturus, many of my family are spread over Tamriel and, well...we have grown tired of each other."
Arcturus nodded, sleep beginning to make his eyelids heavy. "Take the next left and follow it down to the end. My house is on the left again, right next to the Gate."
Raven nodded and said soothingly, "It's okay, Arcturus. You can sleep, you're safe now. When you wake up, you'll be in your own bed."
Arcturus decided he needed no more reasons than that and drifted into a troubled and fitful sleep...
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Post by pat673 on Sept 19, 2008 22:04:47 GMT
The mug full of near stale ale slammed into the oak table, it's contents sloshing onto the fading polish. The silence that followed was tense and fraught with apprehension. Arcturus cowered slightly at the sight of his enraged father, who's cold grey eyes stared unblinking at some unseen image. The boy felt his lower lip quiver as his father, Serverus, turned his malicious stare toward Arcturus, who instinctively hobbled over and put the table between the two; since his fall from the window and his healing from the hands of Raven, his left leg had never completely healed, and never would. Nor had he seen Gilbert or his supposed friends again.
"I don't want you see him ever again, Arcturus," came his Father's stern answer. "He's trouble; Mage's always are."
"But da, I don't understand...Raven and Sara are my friends!" Arcturus exclaimed, his young mind not able to grasp what his Father was saying. For several weeks now, after Raven had delivered the sleeping boy into the arms of his Father, Arcturus had been visiting the wise and kind Raven and his odd protege, Sara. His father had soon but a stop to it, however, something that he still didn't quite understand.
Serverus stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair onto the wooden floor of their relatively small and quant house. He crossed to the window, his footsteps heavy and his walk slow and deliberate, before wiping away some of the condensation that fogged the glass. His father sighed, his fingers making random shapes in the misty glass as painful memories stirred within him.
"Arcturus, you need to understand..." Serverus breathed heavily before continuing, pain evident in his eyes. "You need to understand that without your mother here, it hasn't been easy for me -- us. I know that you miss her and that you wish that you could see her more, but with her...line of work and after the falling out we had...But, I have some good news for you, after the accident that you were involved in, she's left from the Imperial City last night and should be here some time today."
It took a moment for the information to fully sink in. Arcturus frowned for a moment as his father turned to survey his reaction before flashing his lopsided grin and squeaked in excitement. Serverus smiled a little at his son's reactions but his happiness was soon destroyed as his thoughts turned to different matters. Wiping his hands on his trousers, Serverus turned to his son.
"But I won't be seeing her, Arcturus. I couldn't see her -- not after what happened..." He added as if to himself. "She's going to be staying at the Inn here, but only for two weeks."
Arcturus' excitement was drowned out by childish confusion. Didn't his parents love each other? He also opted not to point out that the Inn is where Raven and Sara were also staying. He just nodded and turned his Father's chair upright.
A tense silence followed, only to be broken by the hoarse voice of Serverus stating, "You can meet her at the gate if you'd like. I won't stop you." With that, he sat down once more and picked up his mug and took a long draw. Arcturus stood looking at the apathetic eyes of his father staring into the table before picking up his small satchel bag and ran out of the house, his gait uneven due to his left leg.
As soon as he heard the shout go up and a score of Town Guard run by, Arcturus knew something was wrong. He looked to his left out the Gate, his stomach twisting in a mixture of apprehension and expectation. He limped his way forward, trying desperately to see over the high shoulders of the Town Guard and other populace who were milling about the road into the town. A shriek of pain pierced the afternoon buzz of the Town, followed by several shouts of surprise or shock, Arcturus couldn't tell.
"Excuse me," he said to no effect, trying in vain to see what the hubbub was all about. "E-Excuse me, sir!"
"Someone get a Healer!" Came a shout through the crowd. Arcturus frowned as someone cut through, shoving people out of his way to get to the Healer, offering a brief glimpse of a carriage overturned into the dirt road. Arcturus squeaked in surprise, his chest tightening with anxiety. Eventually, he ducked and weaved his way through the crowd as the Town Guard began to urge them back to their work. Breaking free from the mess of bodies, Arcturus froze at the sight of the overturned carriage, his mother's bloodied body sprawled in the dirt, a passenger stood to one side, clutching at a bloodied head. The horses that led the carriage had both been killed, one with a broken piece of wooden harness through it's belly, the other's neck twisted at an unnatural angle.
Arcturus cried out in shock, ran forward and dropped to his knees, shaking his mother's shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of her son's shrieks of emotional pain. She clutched her stomach before looking up at her son, the word 'Arcturus' barely escaping her lips before her head stooped and her eyes stared outwards into nothing. Dead.
The boy wailed, hugging his mother's lifeless and bloody body as he was wracked with sobs. The Healer ran forward, unnoticed by Arcturus, followed by Raven. "Arcturus, there's nothing you can do, come..." Raven whispered into the boy's ear, laying a gentle hand on his heaving shoulder. He got no response.
Raven stood, running a hand through his silvery hair before walking up to the passenger. "What happened?"
The man looked up, shaking with shock and his eyes blank. "I- I don't know. It happened so fast, they were waiting for us, just at the crossing. It wasn't supposed to happen this way...She should never have come. The Blades should never put family before the good of the Empire."
Raven suddenly understood and curtly nodded to the man as the Healer approached to tend to him. The Altmer walked back to Arcturus, still apprently clinging to the body of his mother. The Mer stood back in surprise as Arcturus turned, an ornately carved steel dagger and a sealed letter in his hands, taken from her belt. He stood, tears coming unbidden to his eyes, and broke the seal of the letter. He wiped his face with the back of his hand before scanning over the contents of the letter. Raven made no move to stop him.
He felt to his knees again, overcome with grief as he read the missive signed by Chancellor Ocato. Ysabel, his own mother, hadn't come to Skingrad to see him after his life-threatening 'accident'. She was ordered here by the head of the Empire to spy on the Count, nothing more. He ran forward into Raven's arms, sobbing into the fine dark brown felt of his flowing robe. Everything in his life was turning upside down. Raven hugged the child back, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his fine lips...
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