(ESO FanFic: Templar of Shezarr – Part 5)

Expect the Unexpected – Closed RP (Rusia Cassiana & Misto Thalos)
Locations: House of Reprieve, Hawke Manor

Rusia wasn’t quite sure what had pushed her to visit the House of Reprieve, especially considering how much hearing beautiful music still hurt her soul and made her think of her lost father. Maybe it was the new lute she’d bought and tried to play, only to fail miserably and lock back up in a trunk out of sight. Some part of her wanted to reclaim her love of playing and singing, but it was a part buried deep beneath the sorrow of her parents’ murder so long ago.

If mother isn’t truly dead though… Could father also be alive? Rusia shakes her head hard to kill that torturous thought. She didn’t even really know if her mother actually had somehow faked her death, then sent a Daedric assassin to try to kill her own daughter a decade later. The truth is they probably are still both dead and that wicked creature lied just to taunt me for some reason.

Trying to clear her mind of all the misery and confusion swirling around, Rusia takes in the beautiful exterior of the bard’s college called the House of Reprieve. Had her life gone on the path it should have, she probably would have wanted very much to go to a place like this. But although she had loved playing several instruments, and had a passable singing voice, she never would have been skilled enough to actually become a bard. Not that her mother would have ever allowed that anyway.

They might have been minor nobility, but they’d been directly down the line from some Duchess or other in Burma. Cavorting about the countryside as a traveling bard might have been something Rusia daydreamed about, but her real life would have been a much more mundane path of marriage, children, and polite rounds of boring conversation with her ‘ladies’ over tea. Long ago, she might have even been happy with that life. Now, though, the very thought made her cringe.

Reaching the entrance to the House of Reprieve, Rusia gently pulls open the door and steps inside. She immediately hugs the wall to her back as she surveys the room full of colorfully dressed figures wandering about and gathered around a stage nearby. She had been a very outgoing and social child, but after her parents allegedly died, no one had stepped forward to claim her. Some distant relative had laid claim to her house, however, and every other bit of belongings and income her parents had left behind. She’d been unceremoniously dumped at an orphanage, never to see her home again. 

Although the staff at the orphanage had been kind, it had been a place of training and discipline designed to turn out recruits for the mercenary company that served as its benefactors. Over time, Rusia had grown withdrawn in many ways. She was gregorious in battle, and often the first to strike a blow. Outside of combat, however, she preferred to stick to the companionship of only a very few close friends, and usually avoiding most social gatherings and parties. 

Rusia understood in her head that her feelings of anxiety stemmed from a fear of doing something wrong, and somehow losing people she liked or loved yet again. Her twelve year old self still lived inside her, always believing somehow it was her fault her parents had been taken away. Her heart, though, didn’t like to listen to her head. So she was still filled with anxiety any time she tried to step out of her comfort zone to go to new places, or socialize with new people. No matter how much she told herself it was stupid.

“Mm! Ah! So many people!” An altmer woman reclining on a couch nearby exclaims a bit loudly, as though startled by those standing around her. “Indeed,” Rusia mutters under her breath as she slides slowly across the room toward a woman serving drinks at a bar. “So very many people.”

“Good evening Miss Selanwyn,” someone Rusia didn’t see replies to the altmer woman. Rusia guesses the sleepy altmer must be Dean Selanwyn Coreiel, who had signed the House of Reprieve open house flyer she’d seen at The Rosy Lion in Daggerfall.

“EVENING!” Dean Selanwyn proclaims even louder. “Oh, oh dear. My nap was only supposed to be a short one.”

Rusia leans on the bar and orders a glass of red wine. The woman behind the counter smiles at her as she passes her a cup, as though she can see how uncomfortable Rusia is. She tries to smile back but just ends up mumbling a slightly incoherent ‘thanks’ and retreating back to a dimly lit corner with her wine. She misses part of what Dean Selanwyn said next, but catches the tail end of her words.

“Everyone, please! Interact with each other and explore!” Dean Selanwyn gestures toward the crowd. “Just remember the House rule, no armor!”

Embarrassed, Rusia looks down at her armor, which at least was freshly cleaned and polished, and blushes not very prettily. She didn’t realize there was a dress code for the establishment. She must have missed that on the flyer that had prompted her visit.

“You may change into more suitable attire upstairs, in our student quarters, or down here, in our actor’s changing room,” the Dean continues. Another guest also in armor – thankfully she wasn’t the only one – speaks up to protest the dress code. “Hm, I’m afraid I have nothing else…”

“To this end, you may borrow our house costumes,” Dean Selanwyn says expansively, waving a hand toward the armored man, “but do be gentle”

Rusia doesn’t hear what the altmer woman or anyone else says after that as she puts down her goblet on the bar and heads for the door to leave. Not being comfortable with changing into borrowed clothing, she decides to retreat back to her manor, thinking it might be best to try this whole socializing thing another time.

Rusia swerves to avoid a fierce looking Dunmer elf coming toward her like he is about to speak and hurries outside as quickly as she can manage. Once she reaches the courtyard, Rusia swiftly invokes the teleport spell to her house.

Cursing as she arrives on the steps of Hawke Manor, Rusia berates herself for once again falling prey to her own inner anxieties. She contemplates going to sit by the pond and try to read herself into relaxing by candlelight, but just as she starts to take a step that way, Rusia feels the house wards ‘ping’ against her skin that someone else has arrived on the grounds.

“Now what,” she grumbles sullenly, putting one hand to the machete at her side. Rusia peers through the dim moonlight toward the entrance gate but it remains closed. She is pretty sure her steward, Lagrobt, is out for the evening, but the orc wouldn’t have set off the house wards anyway.

Keeping her blade ready, Rusia climbs the rest of the steps to the front entrance of the manor and slowly creaks open the door. Moving carefully inside, she sees a vaguely familiar figure standing near the entrance to the kitchen. From what she can determine in the dim light of a few lanterns Lagrobt had left on for her, they were not brandishing any weapons and were holding out their hands in a non-threatening sign of peace.

Rusia didn’t remove her hand from her weapon, but her gut tells her there was is immediate threat. She steps fully inside and lets the door close at her back. Whispering under her breath, she speaks the keyword to light the chandelier overhead so she can get a better look at her unexpected visitor.

“Um, hello? Can I help you?” Rusia says as she puts the foyer table and a chair between her and the mysterious guest. With the brighter light shining down, she recognizes the Dunmer elf who had gotten in her way as she was leaving the House of Reprieve. “Didn’t I just see you at the bard’s college?”

The elf raises his hands in a calming gesture. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten you. And yes, you did.”

“Mmm, I’m not used to unexpected visitors,” Rusia said, tightening her grip on her machete. Especially ones that can just pop into her house through her wards with no trouble. “Is there a reason why you are following me?”

“Yes, actually,” the elf says, stepping toward her. Rusia sidles back and to the side instinctively, once again putting the table and chair between her and the intruder. “I saw you at the bard’s school, you didn’t look like you belong there,” the elf continues.

Rusia shakes her head sadly, releasing her blade to rest both hands on the back of the chair in front of her. “No, I suppose I didn’t look like I fit in at all.”

“You look more like a warrior to me,” the elf says inquisitively. He crosses his arms and waits to see how she will respond.

Sighing deeply, Rusia nods. “Uh, yes. Sorry. I’m afraid I’m not the best person for visitors. Please, um, take a seat if you like.” She follows her own suggestion, taking a seat in the chair she’d been formerly using as a shield, watching as the elf takes a seat across from her. “Yes, I’m a merc by trade. I was there for… personal reasons.”

A loud meow from a nearby bench announces Hawke Manor’s resident cat has finally decided to acknowledge she is home and has a guest. Not that he cares about either of those things, besides thinking one of them might serve him dinner. “Not now Grimmy, I have company, I’ll feed you in a bit.” The large floofball makes an indignant sound, hops off the bench and wanders toward the kitchen in search of a snack.

The elf looks toward the cat with an odd expression, “Hmm, animal lover.” Turning again toward Rusia, he places his hands on the table and leans toward her to emphasize his next words. “Your business is yours, but I could use some help.” He exhales softly. “The Order wants to be all proper, but certain things need to be done now.”

Slumping back into her chair, Rusia lifts one eyebrow at the Dunmer. “I seem to be running into a lot of that lately. Helping people.” She cocks her head at the elf, deciding she will at least hear him through. After all, he’d already breached her house wards easily, so she strongly doubted she’d be able to toss him out unwillingly. “I’m Rusia, by the way, Rusia Cassiana, formerly of Bruma. And you are?”

The elf inclines his head at her, “Coldwater, and my home is long gone and forgotten.” Rusia thinks the elf means he is from Coldwater, not that he’s named that, but doesn’t get a chance to ask before the Dunmer continues. “But I’m not here about that,” he says, “I’m here about dragons.”

Well, that’s unexpected, Rusia thinks, although what else should one expect from an unexpected visitor? “Ah, dragons. I’ve heard rumors about these terrible creatures. But I’ve never visited the lands where they are supposed to be ravaging.”

Continuing to lean forward on the table, the elf speaks fervently. “There’s no suppose to it, they are in fact ravaging Elsweyr Northern to be exact, and all these nobles are sitting around doing nothing about it.”

The Dunmer slams his fist down on the table, making Rusia wince and nearly grab for her blade again. The elf sighs and leans back in his chair, placing his hands in his lap. “I apologize, that was rude of me.”

“I can’t say I approve of nobles doing nothing while the populace suffers,” Rusia tells the elf. “My family would not have stood by.”

No, she thinks, they would not have left the commoners to suffer alone. Her father would have brought everyone inside the walls of their estate to protect them, and her mother would have led the house guard and town soldiers to battle with sword and magic. Or, at least she thought they would have. She really didn’t even feel she knew her parents at all now after the revelation her mother might be alive and trying to kill her.

“Well anyways, the point is there is no pay,” the elf continues after a pause. “I’ve nothing to offer except a possible early death and there’s only so much I can do by myself.”

Rusia smiles wryly, thinking this has been one of the strangest weeks of her life and just getting stranger by the minute. “Something amusing?” the elf asks, a slightly dangerous edge to his voice.

“Frankly, that’s rather the story of my life lately I guess,” Rusia says, resting her head on her hands and studying the elf across the table. “Except the pay part, I usually do get paid. But at the moment, I owe someone a life debt and they won’t let me pay it to them,” she continues, raising one hand to touch a medallion etched with a bear paw at her neck. “So I need to pay it somewhere.”

“Oh? Whom do you owe it to?” the elf peers at her curiously. “A member of The Gray Legion, for saving my life recently. Their leader, Sindri.” Yes, that extremely generous, weathered Nord had gladly accepted her pledge to join and help his order, but he had refused to take on her life debt. He had simply wanted her to pass the kindness shown to her forward. Still, she felt she owed that life debt somewhere. Perhaps this might be a way she could pay it back, helping this stranger by putting her skin on the line.

“I see,” the elf said, considering her words. “I fear I don’t know them. But it matters little. All I truly care about is doing what I can without ruining the land and making things worse. Which is why I need steel. Magic and stealth alone won’t be enough.”

“Well,” Rusia says ruefully, “I can’t say I’d be much use against such fierce creatures as dragons. But it would certainly be an adventure to see one before it likely eats me.” If you are going to die a gory death, she thinks, at least you can tell people in the afterlife, if it exists, that you went down to a dragon and not some smelly merc or bandit dealing a lucky blow.

The Dunmer chuckles softly. “I can slow them down without tearing apart the fabric of nature, I just need someone to do the actual deed of killing them.”

“I don’t have a death wish,” Rusia says firmly.” “But I also don’t have much of a life either. I promised my father I would always try to help those in need.” She pauses, choking back the feeling of tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “I haven’t been very good at that lately. Maybe now would be a good time to try to fulfill that promise better.”

Rusia clears her throat softly before continuing, “I suppose coming seconds from death and having a perfect stranger rescue you for no reason except their own kindness is a bit of a kick in the teeth to get my act together and try to do some good in this world.”

The elf stands up abruptly, almost as if he heard something Rusia doesn’t. “Good, I don’t desire death myself. I simply wish to make someone proud of me too. So when you’re ready, use this to get in touch with me.” He sets an odd palm size device on the table. “Just speak into it and I’ll hear you. As for now, I need to be off.”

Standing, Rusia nods at the elf. ”Very well…” But before she can finish her sentence, the Dunmer vanished in a swirl of floating lights.

“Damn,” Rusia says to the empty house, reaching for the device the elf had left on the table. “I still don’t even know his name…”

THE LYNX & THE TIGER