User blog:SkyrimsShillelagh/Nine Masks for Mother Ashna (Part 2)

Prelude
Alright, so, I guess that's technically two in one day, since I posted the first at one in the morning, but I wanted to get another done, and this one is much longer. Besides, I doubt any of you can find these without me telling you, so I'll keep it secret until tomorrow.

Nine Masks for Mother Ashna (Chapter 2)
“What are you doing?”  Dacian demanded, yanked the boy by the scruff of his neck up into the carriage, out of the luggage hold.

The Breton lad didn’t have a reply, he simply lowered his silver eyes to stare at the floor, trying to disappear. He had similar bone structure to Dacian- androgynous features, pronounced cheekbones, a long, slender jaw, but everything else was his mother’s. Namely the eyes and hair- silver and green, respectively

“Jean-Claude, you answer me this instant!”  Dacian growled.

“I wanted to find out where you were going.”  The boy whispered, almost not loud enough to hear.

“You wanted to find out where I was going.”  Dacian repeated, furious. He was supposed to continue this journey on his own. And now he had a sixteen year old boy with him, full of hormones, irritating questions, and poor decisions. “And what made you think this was a good idea?”

“Well… it’d worked before.”

Dacian’s eye twitched. “You’ve done this before?!”

The boy sheepishly nodded. “A-about two… three times.

“You’re in for a quite a talk later.”  Dacian said, folding his arms and sitting back, staring coldly at his son.

“Monsieur, are… we…”  The carriage driver opened the door to see two Bellamys sitting across from each other. He’d only counter one, last he checked. Unless they spontaneously generated, he didn’t see how another was possible.

“Yes, start the carriage.”  Dacian ordered the carriage driver with authority. The man scurried off to do as he was told.

They rode in silence for several minutes, before Jean-Claude finally spoke up.

“Um… papa?”  The boy dared.

“What?”

“Where are we going?”  The boy had not wanted to come as far as Skyrim. He didn’t even think Dacian was leaving the kingdom of Wayrest, let alone the province.

“The Rift. And from there, a ruin.”  Forelhost…

<p class="MsoNormal">“Why?” “Don’t question me.”  Dacian snapped, still frustrated by the whole situation. “There is just something valuable there.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Jean-Claude connected the dots pretty easily, undeterred by his father’s anger. “…like a Dragon Priest mask?”

<p class="MsoNormal">Dacian’s furrowed brow raised as he met the boy’s eyes with a curious gaze. “How do you know that?”

<p class="MsoNormal">Jean-Claude shrugged. “You left the books out in the library.”  A library. One amenity of the Bellamy estate that both father and son took largely for granted. Dacian was actually impressed that Jean-Claude had figured it out, and had even had the balls to follow his father. Dacian normally might not have cared. Except that he knew what the real world was like. He knew there wasn’t the safety of a library out here. Any adventure they had or danger they faced would not be from the pages of a book. And perhaps that’s what was really bothering Dacian. He was worried about the safety of his son. Because, as he’d learned so many times before, he couldn’t protect everyone.

<p class="MsoNormal">____________________________________________________________________________________________

<p class="MsoNormal">A fog sank over Riften as the carriage rolled in.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Gods, this place is disgusting.”  Grumbled Jean-Claude.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Yes. It is.”  Dacian agreed. “Be certain to keep your head down. Our wealth will not attract the kind of attention we want.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“What? Like celebrities?”  Jean-Claude asked, typically naïve of boy who had been sheltered his whole life.

<p class="MsoNormal">“No, like thieves.”  Dacian grumbled. “Just follow me.”  Jean-Claude shut up and followed his father out of the carriage and into the city. The guards opened the gates. There was no ‘visitor’s fee’ for these two.

<p class="MsoNormal">Jean-Clade gawked at the city. It had a magnificence unlike that of Wayrest. While that was well crafted metropolis, this seemed like something else. It was almost like a bunch of people had come together, agreed to build a city, but each had a totally different idea on what it should look like. Jean-Claude wasn’t sure what he thought of it. Regardless, Dacian interrupted his thoughts as they arrived in the center of the market.

<p class="MsoNormal">“I am headed to the temple.”  He declared. “I must get a priest of Arkay to guide us. They know the ruins of Skyrim well.”  He unstrapped the sheath of his rapier and shoved it into his son’s hands. “if anyone comes too close, do not be afraid to get stabby.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Jean-Claude gave a worried look and opened his mouth to respond, but Dacian had already turned away, and headed for the temple.

<p class="MsoNormal">Inside, he found the head priest, a Redguard man who Dacian assumed was of some renown in the city. He quickly advanced on the man, not even registering he knocked some Nordic woman out of his way.

<p class="MsoNormal">Before the priest could open his mouth, Dacian cut to the chase.

<p class="MsoNormal">“I must hire one of your priests, one taught in the Arkay discipline, to investigate ruins.”

<p class="MsoNormal">The Redguard glanced from Dacian, to the Nordic woman he had knocked over with a furrowed brow.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Yes of course… trusting you can pay.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“I can.”  Dacian said, with a shrug. No price this guy stated would be too steep. One, Dacian was loaded. Two, he was priest. They took an oath of poverty, yeah?

<p class="MsoNormal">Maramal did not like Dacian instantly. Especially since the Breton had shoved his priestess over. He needed to teach this Breton a lesson. The church did not need money, they already received plenty enough, but he supposed depriving this proud man of a few Septims wouldn’t hurt.

<p class="MsoNormal">“A donation of… five hundred Septims would get you the guide you need.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Five hundred Septims?”  Dacian replied, skeptical, but not shocked. “Isn’t that a little expensive?”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Trivial, in Our Lady’s eyes.”  The priest said with a knowing nod. He wouldn’t be swayed.

<p class="MsoNormal">Dacian looked rather disgruntled made a motion for the priest to bring out some wax for Dacian to stamp. When the priest did so, the Breton produced his sigil, authorizing the Chapel to credit him the 500 Septims.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Cheap bastard…”  Dacian grumbled as he pressed the sigil into the wax.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Very good.”  Said Maramal. “Ira here will escort you.”  The Redguard nodded to the priestess Dacian had knocked down on his way in. Dacian slowly stepped around to lay eyes on is guide. Dusting herself off, was a plump, Nordic woman with a road face and light brown hair. She met Dacian with a wide smile, her thick cheeks breaking in dimples.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Nonsense.”  Dacian decided, immediately turning back to Maramal. “I must have someone else.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Unfortunately, Ira here is the only priest of Arkay fit to go.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“I don’t care.”  The Breton growled. “You must provide me with someone else. Preferably a,” he glanced at Ira, “man.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Maramal smirked. “All are equal in Mara’s eyes.”

<p class="MsoNormal">And so, Dacian was stuck with Ira.

<p class="MsoNormal">____________________________________________________________________________________________

<p class="MsoNormal">“Head back to the carriage.”  The unhappy Breton grumbled to the priestess as they exited the chapel. He pulled his cape tighter around himself. “You can’t miss it, it’s rather spectacular. I must go retrieve my son.”

<p class="MsoNormal">The two parted ways and Dacian headed for the market, to retrieve Jean-Claude.

<p class="MsoNormal">The boy was bent over, speaking to an old, frail, female beggar, seated at the edge of the market square, who extended her hand out to touch Jean-Claude’s arm…

<p class="MsoNormal">And was immediately slapped away as Dacian engaged.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Father!”  Jean-Claude protested in shock, shooting upright.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Don’t let the vermin touch you.”  Dacian said, leaning over to glance at Jean-Claude’s arm, as if to assure himself it wouldn’t combust. “She’s infected with all things venereal.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“I was just asking her if she needed any help! She said she’s down on her luck!”  Jean-Claude replied, frustrated. ‘Down on her luck’ was the understatement of the century.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Bah! She is fine. She looks very comfortable in her…”  Dacian glanced at woman’s rags, trying to determine was covering her body. “…scarf?”  Dacian assumed. He shook he head, and one gentlemanly hand closed around Jean-Claude’s wrist. “Come on, we’re going.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Papa, this isn’t fair. She needs gold. She barely has enough to eat!”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Then she can earn it herself.”  Dacian said dismissively, not sure why they were still talking about this.

<p class="MsoNormal">“She can’t.”  Jean-Claude growled, yanking his arm from Dacian’s grip. “Why are you so close-minded?”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Just a little gold, govn’r.”  The beggar decided to interject quietly at this point, earning a glare from Dacian.

<p class="MsoNormal">Jean-Claude did his best begging face.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Fine…”  Growled Dacian, reaching into the straps of his armor. “I’ll give her some gold…”  He yanked the biggest purse free that either the boy or woman had seen In their entire life, and dropped it right in front of the latter. The jangle of gold inside it turned heads.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Oh thank you, sire!”  Gasped the woman, leaping on the purse.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Jean-Claude.”  Dacian began in a stern voice, leaning down slightly to get level with his son. “You don’t ever share with people who haven’t earned it. You’re only enforcing their behavior.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Okay, let’s go.”  Jean-Claude groaned, growing red, casting his eyes down at the ground. Dacian’s lecture was drawing looks.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Look at me.”  Dacian said, holding a finger in the air to get his son’s attention. “Do you understand? Life is a competition. Always do whatever you can to get ahead.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Okay…”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Do you understand me?”  Dacian repeated.

<p class="MsoNormal">Jean-Claude slowly met his father with a glare. “Yes. Yes I understand you.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Good.”  Dacian declared, straightened out again. “Now let’s go. The plebeians seem to be getting curious.”

<p class="MsoNormal">They two Bellamys headed for the gates and soon were back in the carriage. Ira was there, but Jean-Claude recognized the orange robes, and decided not to question it. The carriage rolled forward with a jerk as it started to pull out

<p class="MsoNormal">“Where’s my rapier?”  Dacian suddenly asked, noticing Jean-Claude’s the empty hands.

<p class="MsoNormal">Jean-Claude went red again. Right after that lecture…

<p class="MsoNormal">“I loaned it to a man…”

<p class="MsoNormal">“You’re never going to get that back.”  Dacian snorted, not that upset at the weapon’s loss (there were a dozen more like it in the Bellamy armory), but he was disappointed that his son had given it away so freely. He knew it was hard adjusted to the outside world after a sheltered life, he’d experienced it somewhat himself,

<p class="MsoNormal">“I know it seems stupid now, but he made a very convincing argument!”  Jean-Claude exclaimed as the carriage pulled away from Riften, headed for Forelhost.