Sian's Story part 53 - First Assignment
Entry posted by jfraser in Sian's Story
675 views
I lugged my new armor back to the castle, ducked into the first empty room I came to, closed the door, and changed into my new uniform. Fortunately (or unfortunately), there was a mirror in the room, and when I saw myself in my new outfit, I nearly gave up and killed myself on the spot.
The lower portion was a string thong, of course, but of the thinnest metal string ever. The bikini top had, I swear to god, fucking heart-shaped cups and the helm…I can’t even. It had fucking metal cat ears. Fucking Sanguine is a fucking weeb. And I mean that with every negative stereotype it comes with.
I took the helmet off, pulled the rug back on, then tucked the helmet under one arm – I was NOT wearing that damn thing in front of the Legate - while I carried the sword with the other and went back to the war room.
More people had shown up, and they seemed to be in the middle of an intense conversation as I entered, so I just sidestepped away from the doorway so I wouldn’t block anyone else and waited.
An older man who looked vaguely familiar said, "Tell me again why I'm wasting men chasing after a fairy tale."
Rikke sighed. "If Ulfric gets his hand on that crown, it won't be a fairy tale. It'll be a problem."
"Don't you Nords put any stock in your own traditions? I thought the Moot chose the king. We're backing Elisif. When the Moot meets, they'll do the sensible thing."
"Not everyone's agreed to the Moot. You've been here long enough to know that Nords aren't always sensible. We follow our hearts."
"So what - Ulfric gets this crown and then suddenly he's High King?"
"No, it's not as simple as that, but the Jagged Crown would be a potent symbol for his cause to rally around. But, if we found it first..."
"And we gave it to Elisif?"
"In the absence of the Moot, it would further legitimize her claim."
The man shook his head but acquiesced. “Fine. You said you found a Keṣ Tshaâki for this mission? I thought they were all out on assignment.”
“A new one just joined. And, with perfect timing, here she is.”
Every head in the room turned toward me and there was a deep long silence. Rikke broke it by clearing her throat.
“Why are you still wearing that…rug? It is not part of the uniform. Take it off.”
I sighed. “As you say, Legate.” I tugged it off and felt every eye in the room lock onto me. Even more than they already were.
Rikke did not look amused. “Where is your uniform?”
“This is it. Remember? Cursed by Daedra?”
“…Show me. Strip”
“Here?”
“Yes, here. You’re basically naked anyway”
Fair point. I sighed again and took off the armor. It reverted to its usual bulky self. “Interesting. You, give her your chestpiece.”
One of the men took off his chestpiece with a bemused expression and handed it to me. As soon as it was strapped in place, it became a bikini. Less than a bikini, in fact- it basically turned into nothing more than steel pasties.
Rikke looked a little shaken while the men in the room gasped. And leered, but really, who can blame them?
Rikke shook her head. “That is…incredible”
“That’s one word for it.”
“All right, I believe you. Put your armor back on and you may wear your…rug. Perhaps we can find something more suitable?”
“I’ve tried everything, including drapes. Rugs are the only thing that have stayed themselves.”
“Wel…perhaps we can find you a rug with the Imperial seal on it. Anyway, on to business. First, let’s get you sworn in. General?”
The older man cleared his throat – he seemed still working on making sense of what he had just witnessed. “Of course. I am General Tullius. What is your name, Commander?”
“Sian Fraser.”
“A name as unusual as your armor. Raise your right hand and repeat after me. Upon my honor I, Shawn Frasher, do swear undying loyalty to the Emperor, Titus Mede II...and unwavering obedience to the officers of his great Empire…May those above judge me, and those below take me if I fail in my duty…Long live the Emperor! Long live the Empire!" Then, "Welcome to the Imperial Legion, Commander. Just remember, we take care of our own. Once you're in the Legion, you're in it for life. Legate?”
I did not voice my opinion on the “for life” part as Rikke motioned me forward and pointed at the map.
“This is Korvanjund. It was once a temple of Stuhn, one of the old gods. Our spies tell us that the Stormcloaks have discovered it is also, somewhat ironically, the tomb of the man who outlawed the old gods, High King Borgas. With him was buried the crown of the High Kings of old – the Jagged Crown. They are dispatching a Company to claim it.”
“It’s a fool’s errand, if you ask me,” the General interjected.
Rikke ignored him. “As I’m sure you have come to understand, the Nords are a proud people bound by traditions of their own. The crown represents a time when the High King was chosen by successor, not vote. Seeing the crown on the head of one of the leaders of this war could cause a great many to flock to that person’s banner. However, even if the General is right and nothing comes of having it, it will not hurt to keep it out of the Stormcloak’s hands. The nearest Imperial camp is here.” She touched another spot a little to the north of Korvanjund. “A unit there has been assigned to help; Prefect Dargho will be expecting you. Do you have any questions?”
“No. Oh, wait, I do have one – any chance part of my new job involves a horse? I’d be able to get around much faster with one.”
“So you would, and yes. Go to the paddock and they will give you a horse. Try not to kill it – it is very expensive to get them shipped up here.” Rikke frowned as she cast her eyes over me. “You’re not going to be taken seriously in that outfit. Lazhah!”
One of the men stepped forward, a reedy Imperial with a shock of yellow hair and soft blue eyes. “Legate.”
“This is Praetor Lazhah. He will be the supervisor I mentioned. He will fill you in on the details of the Legion and be able to answer any questions you have. Let him do the talking when it comes to procuring supplies, at least until we figure out what we can do about your…uniform issue.”
I fought hard and I think succeeded in not glaring at Lazhah, even though I already felt resentful toward him. “Yes, Legate.”
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Rikke turned and picked up a belt with a scabbard that had been hanging off the back of a chair. “I had someone retrieve the scabbard that goes with your sword.” She handed it to me and I took it with a nod. “I think that is all, then. Dismissed.”
We all did the salute thing, then I turned on my heel and left the room with what amounted to my new forced husband following. Neither of us said anything as I retraced my steps to my impromptu changing room, where I shoved the sword into the sheath, slung it over my shoulder, and started gathering my old armor, which had, of course, become its original bulky mess of metal and fur. Lazhah saw what I was doing and helped, and I gave him a nod of thanks before we tromped off down the hallway, each with a double armload of miscellaneous armor pieces.
I sold the old armor to Beirand for whatever price he quoted, being uninterested in haggling at that moment, and made a beeline to the inn (after stopping to show my fancy new license to three separate guards for the sword that still clung to my back).
Once inside, I moved to a quiet corner and turned on Lazhah.
“So what is your job, exactly? Are you going to follow me around like a puppy all the time?”
“That is basically it, yes. I’ll help fight, of course, but I am here to make certain you are…well, to put it bluntly, not a spy.”
I tilted my head. “Is that what this is about?”
“Well, technically I am also supposed to make sure you are doing legitimate Imperial work when you are on assignment. Apparently past Keṣ Tshaâki went on assignment and just stayed away, even after their missions were complete, to avoid their duties here or at one of the camps.”
“Right. And I suppose you are expecting me to do one of those duties with you tonight?”
He shrugged. “That is the job, I’m afraid.”
“Here.” I handed him the bag of coins I had just procured from Beirand. “Find a nice whore, compliments of me. Hell, have three. I’m going to bed. I assume you don’t need to watch me sleep? Good. I’ll meet you here tomorrow morning.”
“I…”
I left him there, climbed the stairs to the second floor two at a time, and was almost running by the time I got to our room
I burst through the door, slammed it behind me then, after a moment, grabbed a chair and shoved it under the doorhandle.
Kellan sounded amused. “Um…so how did it go?”
“Great.” I slumped down on a different chair, then jumped up, pulled off the sword and set it on the table, then sat down again.
Kellan was laying on the bed with a small book on his chest. Despite his tone, he looked concerned. “I see they gave you a sword. That is good, right?”
“I suppose. How much money do we have?”
“Why?”
“We need to hire a sex worker.”
“A what?”
“A whore.”
Kellan laughed. “So I’m not good enough for you anymore?”
“You are plenty enough for me, and that’s the problem.” Then I explained my new soldierly duties. By the time I was done, all traces of humor had faded from Kellan’s expression.
“So you have to give this guy a tug every day?”
“And do his laundry and make his meals. And do the same for at least some of the men in every Imperial camp we might come to. Not to mention the barracks when we’re here.” I shuddered. “I hate this world so fucking much.”
“Well, we have plenty of money for now, thanks to the treasures in Bleak Falls and Ustengrav. We’ll just have to keep making money. Speaking of, how much are they paying you?”
Well shit, that was a good question. “I…didn’t think to ask.”
Kellan burst out laughing. “Of course you wouldn’t think of the most practical questions to ask. That’s why I love you.”
Then we both froze. Well, my eyes opened to the size of dinner plates, but otherwise, there was a very long and awkward pause where I’m not sure either of us breathed.
“Um…” Kellan cleared his throat. “That’s what I love about you. That’s all…”
I hastily tried cut him off, trying to stave off the wave of panic that was threatening to wash over me. “No no! It’s fine! I understood what you meant!”
But he had continued talking even as I spoke, “…I meant. Not that I don’t care for you. I do, especially…”
“You don’t have to explain! Really, it’s fine! We’re fine!”
“…after all the things we’ve been through together and…”
“I need a drink. Do you want a drink?” I stood up, shoved the chair that was blocking the door away, and yanked open the door, only to find myself face to face with Lane. “Hi! We’re just going to get drinks. Want to join us?”
Lane smiled and held up three bottles of wine. “I was thinking the same thing. We can celebrate your new job. Assuming you got it?”
“You are a saint.” I grabbed a bottle and let her in, then closed the door again. Then we spent a long night drinking and talking about anything and everything except what had just happened.
Don’t feed the bastards. Feed yourself instead.
Edited by jfraser
17 Comments
Recommended Comments