#viper lachance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grimweaver · 4 years

Text

Druin and The Remnants of Oblivion: Part XVIII

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16969119/chapters/64492294

~*~

While the musicians were warming up and practicing in our suite, the rest of us returned to our designated seating arrangement at the court hall to partake in The Grand Celebration Feast. It was largely uneventful, at least compared to the trial LaChance had just been put through. Although the danger of it was well behind us, it was just one of at least three hurdles that had to be cleared. So, while we kept a watchful eye on the Arch-Mage, whom had returned to her seat upon the higher platform at the end of the room, a dense cloud of tension continued to loom over us—except Dorandil, that is. It seemed nothing could ever dampen his spirits or shut him up (at least, not for very long), which is why I did not allow him to come with us to the menagerie. He wouldn’t stop prodding us for more details of the viper story, even turning to other witnesses nearby for their accounts when Lucien refused to talk about it.

I think the only thing that kept me sane throughout the hour of listening to the tortuously dull prating of the high-class was the continuous inflow of divine food, in addition to the cloud of incense that even a steady breeze had not dispersed, which had again persuaded me to think less about our mission and more about the one tasty-looking item that I hungered for above everything else offered.

I leaned towards LaChance and said to him, “I could really go for that… hmm... Midnight Velvet right about now.”

LaChance gave this remark a soft and controlled reaction; a slight and smooth tilt of his head in my direction and one corner of his mouth curling up. “I understand that the current environment has made it difficult for you to take your mind off of your ‘thirst’. I too find myself struggling with the desire for… hmm... an equally tantalizing dish. But we must not lose focus on what should be in the forefront of our thoughts. We need to use this time to meditate upon the soon approaching… ‘performance’.”

“Yes… I know,” I sighed.

Just then, I was startled out of the dense euphoric fog when my shoulder was given a couple quick and hard pokes.

“AAAAH- WHAT?? ” I blasted, as I whirled around and glared up at the one the hand belonged to. It was Farwil.

There was a look of embarrassment on his face, and his eyes darted from one side of the room to the other. My outburst had momentarily drawn too much attention from the entire assembly. My whole body was flushed with embarrassment of my own, and I tried to recover, “Y… you’ve never once in your whole life had baklava?? That’s just not right! Go on and have some, dear!” I said, giving one of the honey-soaked, walnut-filled pastry squares to Farwil.

“Thank you, M’Lady,” Farwil said, taking a small bite. “Sorry I scared you.”

“And I’m sorry I yelled in your face,” I replied. “Just... quit poking me. If you have something to say just say it.”

“I just wanted to let you both know about the dogs over there,” he said, nodding towards the twelve patrol guards walking in, each with what appeared to be a mere dune-hound on a leash. “They did bring them after all.”

The message that Farwil was trying to give us was that the remnants had gone as far as summoning hell hounds to make sure Zalkir and the orb were protected, and they were also magically concealed. It has been said, by the few who have seen them and lived to describe them, that their sense of smell rivals that of sharks, and there was little doubt that they would be able to pick up our scent in the vents and alert their masters to it.

Lucien turned his attention to the dogs and studied them while he took in a deep breath, as if to sample the air for its betrayal of their true identities. “So they have,” he said, clearing his throat a little.

“The collars that the hounds are wearing—just like the necklaces around the necks of their masters—they really add a nice aesthetic touch, do they not?” Farwil asked.

Lucien nodded, understanding that Farwil was informing us that illusions were generated by these adornments.

“Dear gods,” Farwil gasped, trying to control the volume of his voice. “ They’re coming this way.”

“Calm yourself, Sreth,” Teinaava hissed. “We’re all aware that you have allergies , but there’s nothing we can do about it. You’ll just have to put up with it.”

The hounds seemed to gravitate heavily towards LaChance, whining and practically clawing the floor as they pulled their masters over to our table.

“What the hell is wrong with you all?” one of the remnants growled. He then examined us, wondering what it was about this area that had interested the hounds. There was some initial dread, expecting them to howl angrily and spit fireballs at us at any second…

... but no such thing happened.

“Perhaps I still smell like the viper,” Lucien chuckled, sitting perfectly still as he smiled at the one hound that inched closer and excitedly sniffed the back of his hand, which was resting on his knee. Much to everyone’s surprise, not only were they passive, they each licked the back of his hand. “Haha! Or perhaps it’s the roast beef on my hands!”

“But there’s food everywhere,” the remnant replied, giving their chains a firm tug, narrowing his eyes. “It must be something else. ”

Bremman cracked under pressure and spouted out an explanation that was not entirely aligned with any of the responses he was trained to give,“He’s got some kind of aura or something that animals are drawn to. That’s why he’s got so many strays at home. They keep showing up in his front yard! It’s very weird! It has never been explained, but we think maybe his father was a Ward—”

“That’s quite enough, Saxtus ,” Lucien rumbled low, then said to the hounds, “Go on now and don’t be trouble for your masters.”

Right at that instant, the hounds withdrew their attention and the remnant patrol no longer struggled to control them. There was astonished confusion on the faces of the remnants, and it looked as though one of them wanted to question Lucien about it, but they shrugged it off and continued marching on to their destination: Zalkir’s private quarters.

“Well… that was close,” Farwil sighed. “I uh… thought I’d start sneezing up a storm. That would’ve been embarrassing.” He then asked LaChance, “That thing you did in the viper pit… did you just do it again?”

Lucien simply grinned and finished his piece of baklava.

“Excuse me, Master Atterius... Lady Nelvani,” the voice of Ms. Ale’Ruje said, as she approached from our right, “but the time of your performance draws near—it is currently five minutes till. The musicians are already waiting for you at the Grand Pavilion.”

“Thank you, Ms. Ale’Ruje,” Lucien replied, then gracefully rose to his feet and said as he looked down at me, “We should get a move on, M’Lady.”

I nodded and stood up, with a bit of rigidness in my movements despite my trying to keep it as smooth and graceful as his, and asked Farwil, “would you kindly escort me this time, dear Rellintilys?”

Farwil’s face was lit with joy. “Yes,” he said, “It would be a most appreciated honor, Lady Nelvani.”

I hooked my left into Farwil’s right arm, while Lucien took Ocheeva’s left arm in the same manner. With the rest of the group following close behind us, we left the great hall and out into the massive courtyard. Off to our right, past several of the small pavilions we had walked by when we had entered the property, was a wide stone platform that was reserved for the show.

“Pfft! Wooden swords?? You cannot be serious!” Zalkir scoffed, as Ms. Ale’Ruje handed them to us.

“We would’ve used real ones, but we understand that weapons are not permitted on the premises,” Lucien replied.

“Oh! Haha! Right!” Zalkir turned to the two remnant guards at his side. “Give them your swords,” he ordered them.

The remnants hesitated and questioned this order with eyes filled with distrust darting back and forth, from him to us.

“Master... I don’t think that’s wise,” one of them warned.

“With all due respect, Zalkir, I will have to agree with him,” Surraiah said to Zalkir. “Consider the safety of the audience. Should someone get hit by a wooden sword that was accidentally launched from the stage, there may be a chance of them surviving it… but a metal greatsword—”

“Will do nothing but make the show more interesting!” Zalkir argued. “Come on, Arch-Mage!”

Surraiah really had no choice but to surrender to his will. She sank back into her seat, weighed down by the aggravation over his power over her and the inability to overcome it—she had only the power to fight the angry tears that threatened to surface again. She said nothing more, only gave a weak nod as she forced a regal smile. “Very well,” she sighed.

“That’s the spirit!” Zalkir laughed, taking the greatswords from the remnants and handing them over to us.

Lucien and I looked at each other. Though he gave no outward indication of it, I sensed that he shared my suspicions that Zalkir was not thoroughly convinced after all.

“To our starting positions, then,” he said to me in a low voice.

“Finally… the moment I’ve been looking forward to all evening,” I whispered back.

A wide grin emerged on Lucien’s face as we both, simultaneously, turned towards the steps and made our way up to the platform; around its horizontal center, we turned in opposite directions and walked several more paces before pivoting on on heels and assuming a ready stance.

Along with the arising thrill of entering this moment of action and artistry, I suppressed the acidic burn of anxiety by reflecting on what Lucien had sad to me at the very beginning of the first drill:

“You don’t just move to the music. You move as though you are the one making it. In doing so, you breathe life into the story that you are trying to tell the audience. We’re not actually dueling. It is a performance. Steady flow, fluid and harmonious movements with the rhythm must be applied.”

“And you think we’ll have this all down by Loredas??” I had asked him.

“I know we will, so long as you do not forfeit confidence in yourself.”

He was right. Confidence is all it really took. The body was able to move in almost every way that is possible for a humanoid, the mind was capable of learning at a fast rate, the spirit just needed to be convinced that the only thing that could hold me back from achieving what we set out to accomplish was self-doubt. Considering also the rate of my greatsword retraining, I constantly reminded myself that it took only eight weeks to achieve the desired level of athletic ability, knowledge, and skill of an imperial soldier. If that is possible for me, then I could master within four days a roughly five-minute ‘pretend’ sword fight, as well as learn every detail about the person that I was pretending to be.

I took in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds as I tried to clear my mind of all doubt. I released the air—a long, hard whistle through my teeth— and focused on steadying my breathing and shutting out all that threatened to shatter the sphere of focus. I fixed my eyes on Lucien, standing at the other end of the stage.

Don’t overthink this, I thought to myself. Get your mind off of all the eyes upon us… out of the fear of failure. Just breathe… and think about nothing but what you have to do.

The edges of my vision began to blacken as I forced myself to narrow my awareness to just LaChance and the music. The fear of failure was washed away by a cool wave of self-assurance, and I found myself energized all over by positive anticipation.

((CONTINUED...))

#Lucien LaChance #tes oblivion #elder scrolls stories #the elder scrolls

3 notes · View notes