246 Side Quest III: Cloud Ruler
You thought it was only one chapter, but no it was three!
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(Another two months later, Minthara's POV)
The thick forest finally parts as we emerge onto a rocky clearing, the crisp mountain air bringing an immediate smile to my face as I was reminded of my true home.
I couldn't wait to get back to Skyrim. Even if my family was supposedly from Bruma, the place just made me all kinds of uncomfortable.
My reminiscing is swiftly cut short as my eyes land on a ruined structure, the architecture of which looked so odd and foreign that the uneducated would think it some kind of Ayleid remnant. I immediately recognized it as Akaviri, which most likely meant Blades.
"Would you look at that?" The grouchy voice of Marco reaches me from behind, his shoulders slumped from the constant climbing and his eyes too tired for his usual cheer "The map didn't send us down a cliff for once."
Part of me really wanted to defend whichever ancestor left the clue for us to follow, I really did but after going through so many ever increasingly ridiculous obstacles under its guidance all I could do was not curse them aloud.
Still did it in my head though.
"I think we are finally there." I say hopefully, and the feeling that led me to travel to Cyrodiil seemed to agree. It was an odd thing, letting myself just get pulled around by mere vagaries but a deeper instinctual part of me understood that it had to be done.
"Like the last five places we've been to?" Marco asks mockingly, he was growing more frustrated with our 'quest' by the day and has long since stopped caring about my glares.
'Who knows, maybe he will one day finally grow an actual spine?' One can only hope...
"I am certain this time." I still narrow my eyes at him and palm the now thoroughly dented iron slab tied to my belt "The inscription mentioned a temple and this looks very much like one."
"Or..." He raises his index finger dramatically "It could be the residence of a local half-snake vampire! Didn't think about that one, now did you?"
"There are no Tsaesci left in Tamriel." I deadpan.
"None that we know of! And remember, vampire!" The elven ponce points out helpfully.
I exhale slowly "Fine, you damned child, there might be one but that was not the point. I am actually certain this time."
He suddenly turns serious "The feeling?" He asks.
I nod and start walking up toward the dilapidated fort/temple structure "It feels like whatever I was looking for is inside."
"You never did explain that to me" Marco says curiously as he follows me "What exactly do you feel?"
"A guiding hand, unerring certainty, a decision already made..." I list off and blink in surprise.
"You doing alright there?" His concerned question shakes me awake.
I shake my head "It is nothing, I just... I was never able to actually describe it before now."
His face brightens, though something tells me he just wanted all this to be over and done with instead of actually being happy for my search "That has to mean something, right?"
"Yes" I deadpan once again "That I am actually certain this time."
He chuckles and raises his hands in mock surrender "But of course, who am I to question the divine providence that guides you? I am only here to get song material after all. Won't become the most renowned bard without proper inspiration."
"How is that going for you by the way?" I ask as we start ascending the half crumbled stone stairs, the old grey brick gatehouse still standing strong to its sides.
"As well as it can" He sighs tiredly, his shoulders slumping slightly "We've been running around so much that I got much more practice in fighting people instead of singing about them. Honestly at this rate I will never get anything done."
Well, that is not going to pass "You usually only whine about doing actual work, this is the first time you complained about... bard stuff."
"Bard stuff" He snorts and shakes his head "I guess I've just not been having much success and it finally struck me. I can write a nice rhyme whenever I want, don't get me wrong, but I just don't feel I will ever be able to get that real masterpiece you know?"
I turn and give him what some would describe as a creepy smile "I am sure that you will have all the inspiration you need once we manage to defeat the World Eater."
He immediately flinches and groans, grasping at his hair "Why did you have to remind me of that? I am too young to get grey hair!"
"If I have to remember it every day then so do you~" I reply in a singsong voice.
Our conversation trails off as we emerge onto the temple's main courtyard, the air turning slightly ominous I notice numerous fallen skeletons armored in what I believe is Blades armor, their eponymous swords discarded to their sides like so much trash and left to rust as their wielders rot. The temple itself looked far worse than merely half ruined as signs of fireball damage appeared all over its surface, with some kind of grander spell having destroyed the uppermost tower.
No doubt a Thalmor attack at the end of the war, but what were they looking for here?
I turn to Marco only to see him mumbling a prayer to Arkay to which I leave him. I close my eyes and feel a tugging sensation, almost dragging me toward a certain buried part of the temple.
Wordlessly I start walking toward it, completely ignoring Marco's demands to wait up.
The air turns from ominous to solemn as I pass the ravaged halls of the once glorious temple, many of the side rooms completely caved in by the destroyed roof, leaving me with only a singular path to follow deeper inside.
I do not count the passages as I pass them by, completely uncaring for traps as something told me that there would be none, things turn into a blur until finally I emerge into an almost fully intact chamber filled with enshrined swords, a stone dais laying on the other end of it.
The moment I stepped inside apparitions wielding those same blades and wearing their signature armor stepped out of the shrines, yet my eyes immediately fell upon a far taller feminine figure who stood on the other end of the room and radiated a sense of familiarity.
"Whoa" I hear Marco quietly mumble but I barely pay him any attention.
No, most of my focus is held firmly by the ice blue eyes of the apparition standing in front of me.
Have you finally come to claim your destiny?
'Yes' The answer comes to me instantly.
Very well The figure raises her sword Then prove your worth.
"Do not interfere" I tell my companion and raise my hammer.
We stare at each other for only a moment longer before both of us attack the other in ablur of motion, the other Blades merely watching us intently and with a reverence that was not there before.
A rapid slash barely goes over my head as I duck and deliver a thrust with the pointed tip of my weapon, only to get evaded and leave me overextended.
I quickly raise my left hand and launch a gust of wind, hoping to crush the apparition against the wall only for it to raise its own hand and dispel the magic a moment later.
Almost as if a signal was given both of us activate Alteration magic, both protecting and enhancing our might and reflexes, and immediately burst into another flurry of attacks.
Parry for parry, feint for feint, spell for spell. Whenever I attempt to bring something new to the battle it is met with exactly equal force and power, my frustration growing with each exchange and my blood boiling at the insult.
But I was taught to resist lashing out and instead focus my fury into my strikes.
Almost pointlessly I continue fighting on, realizing ever more clearly that I could have been cut down at any point if my opponent had not been holding back, and that was enough to turn my blood from merely boiling into outright searing rage.
Yet still I held my focus, and a quick if simple plan formed.
If I could not beat her with anything she already had, I would use something only I possessed.
Allowing myself to be pushed back I jump away to create distance and without hesitation shout "FUS RO!" Blowing the apparition back and to my throat's great protest I add "WULD NAH!" Forcing myself to dash across the room faster than most magic would allow and spearing her onto the ground.
She was still not done, obviously, so with one final exertion I breathed in once more, my throat screaming for me to stop but I pushed on anyway "YOOOOL TOR SHUUUUL!!!!" I kept the shout going for as long as possible before staggering back away from the blackened wall, the apparition nowhere in sight.
Well done. I felt something caress my cheek lovingly but that must have just been the battle nerves.
I do not know how long I was stuck just breathing as deeply as my lungs would allow but I was soon shaken awake by Marco offering me the last bottle of our most powerful regeneration potion, I drank it all without hesitation and immediately felt my eyes clear and my throat no longer trying to rip itself apart.
As my sight cleared I was met with an unbelievable scene. All of the other Blades bowed before me, their ghostly eyes radiating reverence and loyalty, and the nearest of them looking expectantly upon the now tangible sword of my challenger.
Understanding the message I carefully picked it up, and the moment I did all of the apparitions dematerialized and were seemingly sucked into the blade, the words "Ulrika's Oathblade" Glowing majestically upon it.
Apparently, I had said that out loud as Marco gasped the moment he heard me "Did you just say Ulrika?" He asks excitedly.
"Yes... why?" I blink
"There is only one Ulrika who was a member of the Blades, Minthara. Everyone knows this." He explains patiently his eyes practically gleaming in anticipation.
It clicks almost immediately "The Champion of Cyrodiil?"
"Exactly!" He nods "And you just defeated her in combat!"
"No, I did not" I shake my head, my pride would sting far worse if I tried to take the credit for something I did not achieve "I don't doubt for a second I would have died if she was actually trying to kill me."
"Truly?" Marco blinks "That is both scary and amazing."
"Quite." I say dryly "You can admire history later, we need to figure out what we came here for." The moment I say that I feel a slight prick on the hand holding the sword and look down just in time to see a drop of blood fall on the stone dais.
For a moment I feared some kind of trap, my heart racing as I realized that both of us were too deep inside to get out in time, but as the droplet fell all I felt was a slight shudder, and looked up to see the stone wall before the dais lower and reveal a passage deeper in.
Once more I feel the odd draw beckoning me forward and I step into the darkness, magical torches coming alight with each step I took. The passage led us to a large room, somehow completely devoid of dust and all of it looking as pristine as if it was built yesterday, a small leatherbound book lay atop the central table immediately catching my eyes.
Without hesitation, I took a seat on a nearby bed and cracked it open, and immediately squinted as my eyes were met with a tiny script written with crumbling charcoal.
"27th of Last Seed 3E 433: I finally managed to get out of those damned sewers, how in all the gods' names he expected me to protect The Amulet I have no idea. The old fool was probably riddled with potions of all kinds by the time he reached me so the fumes must have gotten to him. Still, it was a man's last request no matter how much of a ponce he was so off to the chapel I go."
"A diary?" I mutter and quickly turn the next page, the handwriting was much improved, no doubt due to a less stressful situation, but it was still written with some frustration.
"29th of Last Seed 3E 433: What kind of idiot leaves such an important item inside a gods damned wooden box?!" The page goes on to describe in gratuitous detail what the booklet's owner would do to someone named Jauffre.
"Wait a moment" Marco voices as he peers down from my side "This... this must be Ulrika's diary!"
And just like that, I am completely absorbed by it, flipping page after page and uncaring for the time.
Hours pass as I read through the pages containing both victory and triumph, determination and horror. The further in I go the more convoluted the story becomes with almost all of the Daedra being involved in one manner or another and an incarnation of Pelinal being mentioned. Hunting down the Dark Brotherhood nearly to the last man, slaughtering a village of goblins, banishing Manimarco, the Triumph at Bruma, and finally the mantling of Akatosh and the humbling of Mehrunes.
Finally, I reach the most recent pages, written far less frequently but I swiftly manage to piece together that there was something going on between the Champion and the last Septim... something which ended up continuing the imperial bloodline.
"...I go now to face the machinations of the vile lord of madness. No one else but I can do so after all. Forgive me, my child that I will not be able to see you grow up and be happy." I flip to the last page and my eyes widen at what I see "And to you, my descendant with hair of fire and soul of a dragon who visits my visions, the world is cruel to demand more from our family, crueler even to once again place the world upon our shoulders. To you I leave what has always belonged to you, may it serve you as it did your ancestors."
With a flash the book disappears, leaving behind a metallic necklace that looked like a simple if a bit oversized silver ornament... with a large diamond shaped hole in its center.
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May my twists shake thy hollow domes
and my words liberate thee of thine stones!
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